Somaya
I remember the heat of the sun, the weight of the water bottles, and a distant sound that grew closer, followed by silence. That day, all I wanted was to help my family survive. I was walking through a calm crowd, holding a box of water bottles, when suddenly, an explosion happened. In an instant, half of my world went dark, the bomb took one of my eyes. I was ten years old.
But that day was not the end of my journey. It was the beginning of a new perspective; not a look at what I had lost, but at what blossomed within me.
When I woke up in the hospital, I could hear the doctors saying that with the injured eye, I would never be able to see again. I thought to myself: Is this darkness going to stay with me forever? I didn’t know how to leave the outer darkness behind, but something inside me remained lit: the will to keep going.
What I had always feared after my father’s death happened. My mother told me that my father had passed away, and the responsibility was now on her shoulders. She said I was no longer allowed to go to school. How could I study with one eye? She said I was going to marry my cousin. He is wealthy, and I no longer needed to sell water bottles. I had always remained silent in front of my mother, but this time I couldn’t stay silent anymore. I told her that I was going to school, I was going to study, and I was not going to marry. She said no one would marry me in this condition. I should thank God that someone would marry me even though I was damaged, and I should be happy. I am no longer that child, but I still feel the weight of my mother’s words when I write.
In that moment, I was not alone. Behind all the tears I shed in silence, I could hear the voice of a girl standing up for herself. Others saw weakness; I saw strength.
In 2017, when I was fourteen years old, I had the opportunity to participate in a public speaking course. The prize for the best speaker was a laptop. Maybe back then, I only went to win that laptop, but what I gained was much more. It was the first time I told my story in front of an audience. Unlike before, I wasn’t afraid. When I saw their smiles and tears, I realized: if told correctly, the story of suffering is not one of pity, but one of inspiration.
After that, educational institutions invited me to give motivational speeches to students. In each seminar, I only shared a part of my life, but I realized my story was not just my own, it was the suppressed voice of many others. Slowly, I accepted myself, embraced my differences, and in the mirror, I saw not a wounded girl, but a leader.
That difference became the motivation to start the "Hand of Hope Charity Foundation." Now, I help children and students from the Kuchi community, not only by giving them clothes or pens but by sending them a simple message: You are not forgotten.
Today, I know that the bomb didn’t only take my sight; it opened a door to a deeper understanding of humanity. The wound I received became a bridge to touch the wounds of others.
This journey has had its bumps. In 2021, when the Taliban came to our country and banned girls from education, many girls protested for their right to study. The Taliban silenced these protests with force, cruelty, and open physical violence. Many girls were arrested during these protests, and I was one of them. The Taliban took the arrested girls to a remote area outside of Kabul, where they first whipped us and then beat us with stones. During that brutal assault, my jaw was injured.
The first question they asked was: You are a girl, why should you be educated? At that time, due to the injury to my jaw from the beating, I could not speak, but the words and answers remain in my throat, and I want to answer here: I am a girl, but before that, I am a human. I study to break the silence. To build a future that belongs to us too. To keep the truth alive. Education is my weapon, my calm but powerful response to a world that tries to silence me.
Today, I know that codes are not just zeros and ones; they are a language of change. The change I once dreamed of while selling water bottles. On this journey, my weapon will be a laptop.