Nasreen’s Secret School

A true story from Afghanistan

My granddaughter, Nasreen, lives with me in

Herat, an ancient city in Afghanistan. Art and music
and learning once flourished here.
Then the soldiers came and changed everything.
The art and music and learning are gone. Dark clouds
hang over the city.
Poor Nasreen sat at home all day, because girls
are forbidden to attend school. The Taliban soldiers
don't want girls to learn
about the world, the way Nasreen's mama and I
learned when we were girls.
One night, soldiers came to our house and took
my son away, with no explanation.
We waited many days and nights for his return.
Finally, Nasreen's frantic mama went searching
for him, even though going out alone in the streets
 was forbidden for women and girls.
The full moon passed our window many times as
Nasreen and I waited.
Nasreen never spoke a word. She never smiled.
She just sat, waiting for her mama and papa to return.
I knew I had to do something.
I heard whispers
about a school— a secret
school for girls— behind a green gate in a nearby lane.
I wanted Nasreen to attend this secret school. I
wanted her to learn about the world, as I had. I wanted
her to speak again.
So one day, Nasreen and I hurried down the
lanes until we came to the
green gate. Luckily, no
soldier saw us.
I tapped lightly. The teacher opened the gate,
and quickly slipped inside.
We crossed the courtyard to the school— one
room in a private house, filled with girls.
Nasreen took a place at the back of the room.
Please Allah, open her eyes
to the world, I prayed as I
left her there.
Nasreen didn't speak to the other girls. She
didn't speak to the teacher. At home, she remained
silent.
I was fearful that the soldiers would discover the
school. But the girls were clever. They slipped in and
out of school at different
times, so as not to arouse
suspicion. And when boys saw soldiers near the green
gate, they distracted them.
I heard of a soldier who pounded on the gate,
demanding to enter.
But all he found was a room filled with girls
reading the Koran, which was allowed. The girls had
 hidden their schoolwork, outwitting the soldier.
One of the girls, Mina, sat next to Nasreen every
day. But they never spoke to each other. While the girls
were learning, Nasreen stayed inside herself.
My worry was deep.
When school closed for the long winter recess,
Nasreen and I sat by the fire. Relatives gave us what
food and firewood they
could spare.
We missed her mama and my son more than
ever. Would we ever know what had happened?
The day Nasreen returned to school, Mina
whisperer in her ear, “I missed you.” “I missed you
too,” Nasreen answered back!
With those words,
her first since her mama
went searching, Nasreen opened her heart to Mina.
And she smiled for the first time since her papa
was taken away.
At last, little by little, day by day, Nasreen
learned to read, to write, to add and subtract.
Each night she
showed me what she had discovered that day.
Windows opened for Nasreen in that little
schoolroom.
She learned about the artists and writers and
scholars and mystics who, long ago, made Herat
beautiful.
Nasreen no longer feels alone. The knowledge
she holds inside will always
be with her, like a good friend.
Now she can see blue sky beyond those dark
clouds.
As for me, my mind is at ease. I still wait for my
son and his wife. But the soldiers can never close the
windows that have opened for my granddaughter.
lnsha'Allah.
Author’s note

The Global Fund for Children, a nonprofit organization committed to helping

children around the world, contacted me about basing a book on a true story
from one of the groups they support.
I was immediately drawn to an organization in Afghanistan that founded and
supported secret schools for girls during the 1996‐2001 reign of the Taliban.
The founder of these schools, who requested anonymity, shared the story of
Nasreen and her grandmother with me. Nasreen's name has been changed.
Before the Taliban seized control of Afghanistan,
 70% of schoolteachers were women
 40% of doctors were women
 50% of students at Kabul University were women.
After the Taliban seized control of Afghanistan,
 girls weren't allowed to attend school or university
 women weren't allowed to work outside the home
 women weren't allowed to leave home without a male relative as
chaperone
 women were forced to wear a burqa that covered their entire head and
body, with only a small opening for their eyes.
There was no singing or dancing or kite flying. Art and culture, in the
birthplace of the immortal poet Rumi, was banished. The colossal Bamiyan
Buddhas, carved into the side of a mountain, were destroyed. Years of isolation
and fear had begun.
But there was also bravery from citizens who defied the Taliban in many ways,
including supporting the secret schools for girls.
Their courage has never wavered.

Jeannete Winter
Nasreen’s Secret School – A true story from Afghanistan
New York, Beach Lane Books, 2009