Bamyan and the Community Village School

Tomorrow we send up a crew to start our Community Village School in Bamyan-it has been funded by a wonderful group of school teachers in Seattle. The following is a story about how this project came to be:

The Village of Jawzjareen “The Village of Golden Oats”

Last fall I was traveling through Bamyan province on a survey project and on my day off, my translator, Hassina and I decided to tour up a valley that was recommended to us, near Bamyan City. We stopped our car at the point the road ran out and started up the valley on foot. Halfway up the pathway we encountered two little girls, and a donkey carrying 200 pounds of flour, stopped in the middle of the path. The girls were tugging, pulling and beating the donkey that was not to be persuaded to move one inch. Upon examination we discovered the donkey was very sick. Reluctantly, I decided to get involved and sent Hassina up the hill to find another donkey. We unloaded the sick one and waited for Hassina to get back. I asked them where their parents were. The older girl said “ Our father was killed by Taliban, and we live with our mother and two other sisters at the top of the valley by ourselves. Our brother is a sheepherder high in the mountains and we are able to live because of him.”

Hassina arrived with the other donkey and a young boy; we loaded up the donkey and walked up the mountainside, stopping at our benefactor’s house for tea. I decided at this point to continue on up with the donkey to see where these two little girls lived. Discussion over tea with the Afghan man about the community situation revealed that about 60% of the families were trying to support widows, war victims and orphans. I asked if the girl children were able to attend the public school 2 kilometers down the valley and he just laughed. Of course! He said, but they are needed by the mother to do the work of the house and to tend the animal’s -if there was time for them to go-they had no male relative to escort them!

After tea this gentleman escorted me up the mountain introducing me to various families, giving me an account of the people of his village. A father without legs from a war wound struggling to support his family, a fourteen year old girl taking care of six siblings living in the ruins of a house-both parents dead from the war, a man caring for his own family and three widows with their children-his three brothers dead from the war. I was very moved as I walked through this village, not by pity but by pride in these people as they struggle after such loss to care for one another.
At the very, very top of this community was a little tiny house. We panted our way up to meet two beautiful older sisters of my two little girls. They ran to get their mother, who was younger than I but looked twenty years older-a no-nonsense, snuff eating, hard working woman who was astonished to see me show up on her front door. As I sat with these women my resolve to work in the Hazarajat crystallized and I promised to come back in the spring with a program and work for the women. Hassina and I distributed what money we had with us to the poorest women, which is something I just do not do here any more. I did it that day because I was so present to the imminent harshness of approaching winter and so impressed by the sweet strength of these families.

Descending the valley, Hassina and I extracted a promise from the leader of the shura for land and a place to make a community garden.

Last month I returned to Jawzjareen with my son, Colin with a sun oven donated by the New Hudson Foundation. The little girls, faces so hardened by work and responsibility had a smile for me. Bibijan, the hard bitten mother looked at me as if I was nuts, bringing her this contraption as well as showing up to keep my promises to her. (The sun oven reduces their work by hours everyday as well as expense) We spent a leisurely afternoon, learning about the sun oven, discussing plans for the Community Village and the garden, negotiating with the shura leader for land to build. I told Bibijan that it was her responsibility to learn the sun oven so she can teach others when I came back. She noted that I was putting a lot of responsibility on her. I agreed with no apology. The two older girls drew me aside to ask me for face cream. They addressed me as ‘auntie” and as “auntie” I answered…”Help your mother figure out how to use the oven and I will teach you to make face cream, and you will go to school!” Jawzjareen is now part of our work, our community, and our family. We have begun it together. Our first Community Village School.
Marnie Gustavson, Executive Director, Spring 2007