Global Issues: Apples
Author: Sailea Nerid
My name is Ilyana… Miss Ilyana, I guess. I live in a village not too far from the city of Landi Kotal in Pakistan. Last month I turned 16. My father and I had a nice dinner and he took a picture of me standing next to my favourite apple tree in our garden. We both wished mom was still alive so she could see her daughter all grown-up. I miss her so much. Don’t get me wrong, dad took excellent care of me even though he was often away from home being the only doctor in the area. One of the greatest pleasures during my childhood was dad reading me a story book and then spending some time together discussing the characters of the story and their adventures. I love books. Dad taught me to read when I was 6 but I couldn’t start going to school until I turned 8 because I was sick for a long time. When I finally managed to enter the small classroom the first thing I noticed was the warm smile of Miss Manara, the teacher. She was very kind and spent many hours trying to help me catch up with the kids at my age. I didn’t disappoint her and made a great progress. I love my teacher, she was like a mother to me. I used to bring her apples from my garden. I knew she liked this particular sort – small and red but as sweet and juicy as you can imagine.
During the last two years dad and Miss Manara spent quite a lot of time talking about me and my future. They were making plans to send me to Islamabad or Karachi where I could continue my education. I want to become a teacher or a writer, something that would allow me to read a lot of books and share my passion for knowledge with the rest of the world. Things were not easy, however. In Pakistan it’s particularly hard to be a girl and receive a proper education. The situation got extremely bad after the attack against Malala Yousafazi. Her example and powerful message shook the country. We were not allowed to talk about her at school and I was constantly hearing rumours that the TalibanS had sworn to close all the schools where girls were being taught. A lot of parents stopped sending their daughters to school since they were afraid for their children’s life. I could understand their fears but felt angry those men who had caused so much pain to my people were winning BY making all of us terrified and miserable, denying girls the simple pleasure of going to school.
Once I asked dad why they were insisting women should be uneducated and if it was truly such a terrible sin. He smiled sadly and told me ‘You should know by now that knowledge is light and ignorance is darkness. A blind man knows what dog is and what a wolf is, you can’t know the truth when you can’t see it.’
Miss Manara appeared to share the same view. She continued teaching us and even persuaded some of the parents to send their daughters back to school. I know she was trying to get the community to support our school more and dedicated a lot of time and efforts to obtain some support from the local religious leaders.
One morning when I arrived at school as usual I found all my fellow student outside the building and very upset. There was a crowd. I tried to reach the building and see what all the fuss was about when someone caught by arm and I saw dad. His face was grim and he motioned me to follow him back home. There he finally told me what had happened. My teacher, Miss Manara was shot by the Talibans. They were not happy with the degree of interest she was raising towards women's education and rights. I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe I would never again see my teacher’s smile and talk to her. I didn’t speak for a week. I didn’t cry, I suppose I was in shock. At some point I remember dad trying to talk to me and explaining me that in the current situation he would not risk sending me so far away to continue studying. I understood he was thinking how to protect me but life was too bitter to accept it the way it was. I thought a lot about all those girls living in countries where studying was not a sin. I did envy them but I knew I couldn’t change the place I was born in.
The school remained closed. I stayed home and took care of the household, occasionally finding a few hours to read dad’s books. I felt pretty lonely and miserable. One day I was hanging the laundry outside when I felt someone watching me. I turned around and saw Naeema, the girl who lived next door and with whom we used to go to school despite her being only 10. I smiled at her. She came closer and said ‘You are reading big books, aren’t you, Ilyana?’ ‘Well, I read a lot of books, some of them are big, some of them are not. Why do you ask?’, I answered. The girl looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time and said, ‘I want to know why some leaves are green and some are red.’ I sighed, trying to formulate an answer she would understand, but then just invited her inside, prepared her some tea and answered about a million questions. When little Naeema went home I felt exhausted but somehow I couldn’t stop smiling. The problem was that next day she returned with two other girls from school. I don’t know how things got out of hand so quickly. Before I could realize what was happening, I was teaching a bunch of little girls about the world they were living in without the knowledge and consent of their parents, my dad, and not to mention the authorities. This whole situation didn’t remain hidden for a long time. One evening dad told me he knew about my ‘school’ as he called it and demanded that I stop this immediately. I didn’t say anything. I was scared too, because I realized it was a matter of time before I attracted some unwanted attention and attention was dangerous. At the same time my heart was breaking at the thought of turning back my girls.
I went outside to get some fresh air. Walking in our garden and thinking about Miss Manara, I nearly jumped when a small hand grasped mine. Naeema grinned and tossed me an apple from the basket she was holding in her hands. ‘You look like you need something sweet to cheer you up, Miss Ilyana’, the little devil said and ran back to her own garden, ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said joyfully. ‘See you tomorrow,’ I answered mechanically, staring at the apple in my hand. Then I thought that even the deepest darkness could be broken by a little ray of light, and there would always be someone to bring it, that’s how the world is.
61 million children worldwide are out of school, the majority of them being girls. Two thirds of 775 million illiterate adults are women. There are many reasons that prevent girls from going to school. Poverty, pregnancy, school-based violence, early marriage, and discriminatory gender norms are some of the major obstacles to girls’ education worldwide. The lack of education limits prospects, decreases family income, reduces health, puts women and girls at risk of trafficking and exploitation, and limits the economic advancement of entire countries.
A lot of efforts are dedicated by various people and organizations to improve the situation and encourage more parents to send their girls to school and invest money in their education. The problem is that very often the limited financial resources are an additional factor that prevent girls from reaching their classrooms. If you want to support this cause, you can pick an organization directly involved with helping girls get an education and make a small donation or help in any other way they offer.
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