Last year, Afghan Zahra A. took the online Antwerp Long Distance Course in English at Linguapolis. She too has been unable to attend university since the Taliban came to power. Today, she writes her own English poems about her situation and teaches other women how to speak in front of an audience and read poetry aloud.
December, 2022. The Taliban announce that women are no longer allowed to study at university. A year later, Linguapolis, together with non-profit organisations Mothers for Peace, Veera, the Nicolas of Cusa Foundation and AUHA, launched an online English course for young women in Kabul.
Zahra A. took the course last year and has been writing English poems ever since. ‘I only wrote poems in Persian, but the language teacher encouraged me to write my poems in English,’ Zahra writes. ‘She was also there to read and appreciate my poems. Thanks to her encouragement, I learned to write poems in English, and now some of my poems have also been published online.’
Zahra is now even teaching her own classes. She started a small volunteer organisation and shares her knowledge with other Afghan women, teaching them to stand and speak in front of a group and read poetry. ‘I’ve met lots of women in these classes who, despite the many limitations, worries and insecurities, are still highly motivated and determined to learn. It makes me sad to see how anxious they are about their education and their future.’
Since September 2023, Linguapolis has been offering online English courses for Afghan women every year. By doing so, the organisation wants to contribute to their emancipation and further education, given that this is officially impossible under the current regime.
I cried for the dreams
That could never come true.
I wrote poems for the wounds
Of my own four dark years.
I stayed in a cage
And tried to fly with no wings.
I swallowed the pain
Of these days falling apart.
Deprived of my own rights,
In cold and silent nights,
I sighed and wept
For girls like me.
Then one dark night came,
With the noise of guns.
My notebook turned to dust,
My books and dreams, gone with it.
In silence now,
I don’t even have the right to shout.
My heart’s words
Were buried in my heavy throat.
I cannot step outside,
My freedom is forbidden.
Even the shadow of my picture
Is seen as a crime.
With fear and shaking hands,
Tied and helpless,
I thought about tomorrow,
With a thousand questions in my head.
Once again, I cried
For the sadness of now,
For the prisoner
Who doesn’t even know
What freedom feels like.
- Zahra A.