October 28, 2011 - 12:00pm, by Pearly Jacob
Ulaanbaatar hardly registers as dream destination for study-abroad scholars. But for a handful of Afghan students, all-expenses-paid undergraduate scholarships to study in Mongolia's capital city present a pragmatic alternative to life in war-torn Kabul.
In the bustling canteen of Mongolia International University (MIU), 21-year-old Nasim Sahel, an ethnic Hazara from Afghanistan’s Bamiyan Province, admits that before his arrival the only image he had of Mongolia was of people riding horses -- "and of course Genghis Khan.” Currently, Sahel and at least 22 other Hazaras study in Mongolia, most of them the recipients of scholarships specifically designed for members of the oft-persecuted minority group back home.
In Afghanistan, Hazaras are believed to be descended from Genghis Khan's marauding forces as they swept through during the Mongol conquests of the 13th century. The name “Hazara” is thought to come from the Persian “hazar,” or thousand, a reference to the hordes. Mostly Shi’a Islam believers and Asian in appearance, Hazaras have endured frequent persecution from their Sunni neighbors. The ethnically Pashtun Taliban singled out the group for mass executions and forced deportations, most notably in Mazar-i-Sharif in 1998, and attacks on their settlements in highland towns like Bamiyan, the provincial capital.
In 2009, Davaabat Sainbayar, director of an online, non-profit networking initiative for Mongolians worldwide -- Tsahim Urtuu, or “Electronic Station” -- was producing a local TV series tracking Mongolians around the globe when he visited a Hazara community in Kabul. Eyewitness accounts of discrimination, "just because they were regarded as Mongols," shocked him. Three months later, with Mongolian government support, he announced the Tsahim Urtuu scholarship program. "Our goal was to help these students, who we view as ethnic Mongolians, and see where it leads," he says.
The three students chosen for the first round underwent nine months of preparatory language lessons before enrolling in undergraduate classes at the government-run National University of Mongolia (NUM) in 2009. Despite the crash course, language is still “the biggest challenge,” says Zahra Baksh, a second-year business management student. “We often have to translate words from Mongolian into English and if we still don't get it, into Persian."
For most Hazara students, many of whom experienced life as refugees in Iran and Pakistan, their time in Mongolia offers their first taste of prolonged peace and relative stability. Meqdad Salehi, a Tsahim Urtuu scholarship awardee studying international relations at NUM, spent his entire childhood as a displaced person. He was born in Iran to Hazara refugees who had moved there hoping to escape persecution in Afghanistan. Hazaras speak a dialect of Persian. With their Shi’a beliefs, many seek sanctuary in Shi'a Iran, rather than Sunni Pakistan.
Unfortunately for Salehi and many like him, discrimination followed the Hazaras to Iran. "Tajiks and Uzbeks refugees from Afghanistan look more like Iranians. It is more difficult for Hazaras to be accepted because of our Mongolian features," said Salehi. Unable to find easy access to jobs and schooling in Iran, his family moved back to Afghanistan -- just as the Taliban gained control over much of the country in the mid-1990s. Taliban repression forced his family to return to Iran, but they found the environment so unwelcoming that they opted to return to Kabul prior to the 9/11 terrorism tragedy and the subsequent US-led blitz on Afghanistan. "The second time we came back to Afghanistan and then 9/11 happened. We heard Americans would attack so we ran to Pakistan,” Salehi said. The family has since returned to Kabul.
For Sahel, the student from Bamiyan, Mongolia is the opportunity he had always hoped for. "At least there is a country that's supporting me, a country that says, ‘Yes, you belong to me,’ after I've been exiled from Afghanistan and called a slave,” he said. An outspoken student, his hair dyed a reddish blonde, Sahel says the individual freedom he enjoys in Mongolia has been the best part of his experience. Yet he still yearns to return to a peaceful Afghanistan. "I like the idea of being descended from Mongolians, but I belong to Afghanistan."
For Hazara students in Ulaanbaatar, thoughts of home are sobering reminders of the uncertainty that loved ones continue to grapple with. "Each time I hear news of gunfire or bomb blasts in Kabul, I have to fight the urge to panic and think the worst," says Meqdad Salehi.
When asked to describe the situation at home, Zahra Bakhsh, the business management student, mulled the question for a minute. "Afghanistan is like...” she said before pausing. “I don't know how you say it in English …" After a quick Google search she finds a satisfactory way to express her sentiments: "Afghanistan is like a spell no one can break.”
Editor's Note: Pearly Jacob is a freelance journalist based in Ulaanbaatar.
EurasiaNet
Friday, October 28, 2011
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Many Daikundi schools without buildings
"A high traffic noise and dust don't allow us to focus on our lessons."
By Syed Ghulam
With almost 76 percent of schools across Daikundi province having proper buildings, more than 100,000 students are still studying under tents, officials said on Friday.
A total of 334 schools are operating in the province, Director of Education Sardar Ali Jafri told Pajhwok Afghan News. As many as 118,104 students are taught under trees, in mosques and rented houses.
Nazar Panahi, the director of planning at the education department, acknowledged many schools had no buildings and faced problems, including non-availability of clean drinking water.
As a result, students do not have access to a healthy learning environment, he said, urging donors to help the education department tackle the problems.
Students and teachers also complained of the space problem. "To us, the biggest issue is a lack of school buildings," said Khaliq Nazar, a teacher at the Muhammadia School in Sharistan district.
A student of the school, Yasin, said: "A high traffic noise and dust don't allow us to focus on our lessons."
Across the central province, 155,400 students, 40 pc of them girls, are being taught by 2,909 male and female teachers.
Read more: http://www.rawa.org/temp/runews/2011/10/21/many-daikundi-schools-without-buildings.html#ixzz1bwhCG8uu
By Syed Ghulam
With almost 76 percent of schools across Daikundi province having proper buildings, more than 100,000 students are still studying under tents, officials said on Friday.
A total of 334 schools are operating in the province, Director of Education Sardar Ali Jafri told Pajhwok Afghan News. As many as 118,104 students are taught under trees, in mosques and rented houses.
Nazar Panahi, the director of planning at the education department, acknowledged many schools had no buildings and faced problems, including non-availability of clean drinking water.
As a result, students do not have access to a healthy learning environment, he said, urging donors to help the education department tackle the problems.
Students and teachers also complained of the space problem. "To us, the biggest issue is a lack of school buildings," said Khaliq Nazar, a teacher at the Muhammadia School in Sharistan district.
A student of the school, Yasin, said: "A high traffic noise and dust don't allow us to focus on our lessons."
Across the central province, 155,400 students, 40 pc of them girls, are being taught by 2,909 male and female teachers.
Read more: http://www.rawa.org/temp/runews/2011/10/21/many-daikundi-schools-without-buildings.html#ixzz1bwhCG8uu
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Taliban gone, but Bamiyan still fearful
By Aisha Chowdhry, Special for USA TODAY
BAMIYAN, Afghanistan – The massive Buddhas that were carved into the sandstone cliffs here 15 centuries ago are gone, and so too are those who dynamited them into oblivion.
American troops have cleared out the Taliban from this valley. But the people of Bamiyan live in fear that the strict Muslim clerics and their ruthless brand of Islam are not gone for good.
"We need the Americans," says Haji Hussain, 40, the owner of a grocery store who says he was shot by the Taliban. "When they leave, it will be very difficult and the Taliban will come back."
This province in eastern Afghanistan is known for spectacular mountain scenery of the Hindu Kush and deep-blue lakes that change hue as the sun moves over the sky. It is an ancient land that lies on the Silk Road, the trade route that caravans once took from China.
The people here are Hazaras, Shiite Muslims who descend from Mongols and who for years has been discriminated against by the more numerous Sunnis in the south, known as Pashtuns.
It was the Pashtuns who gave birth to the Taliban. Its adherents prevailed in a civil war in 1996 and made news periodically for edicts it said were rooted in Quran: public executions of adulterous women, bans on music, kites, and men marrying 9-year-old girls.
Bamiyan resisted, and close to 600 of its people died at the hands of the Taliban.
But it was not until March of 2001 that the Taliban made world headlines, shocking archeologists and awakening governments to the unique nature of the regime. Taliban leader Mullah Mohammed Omar ordered the destruction of a treasure of the ancient world, the Bamiyan Buddhas, carved in the 6th century by monks who meditated in the caves of what was an early Hindu-Buddhist monastery.
The larger of the two statues at 175 feet was the tallest standing Buddha in existence. Omar deemed them un-Islamic idols, and when machine guns failed to destroy them they were erased by dynamite despite cries from the world community that they be spared.
Six months later the Taliban refused another request — to turn over to the USA the architect of the Sept. 11 terror attacks, Osama bin Laden. The refusal led to a U.S.-led invasion that dislodged the Taliban from the capital of Kabul but began a war that continues to this day.
More than 100 miles west of Kabul, Bamiyan in July was the first province to be handed to the Afghan security forces by NATO forces.
Today construction abounds in the region, and new stores can be seen in a bustling downtown. A map outside the office of Bamiyan governor, Habiba Sarabi, the only female governor in Afghanistan, displays what Bamiyan might look like one day. It details plans to boost tourism by improving ground and air transport.
Sarabi condemns the destruction of the statues and has been a target of the Taliban, she says. "It was not only the Taliban but other hands behind that too, to destroy the identities of the Bamiyan people," she says.
Life has changed dramatically since the Taliban was forced out by NATO. Schooling is better and more open. There are 125,000 children attending classes and close to half are female. Under the Taliban girls were forbidden from getting an education.
On this day women are seen walking the streets of Bamiyan, books in hand. Hussain Noori, 28, says that is a change from life under the Taliban, which banned women from going outside without a burqa.
"They are not forced to cover themselves," he says. "It is up to them."
Foreign archeologists have flocked here in recent years and have unearthed artifacts that could become a major tourist draw. In 2008, what may be the first known use of oil paint was found in Buddhist images inside some of the thousands of caves here.
Yet the road from Kabul to Bamiyan can be a dangerous route. Better security could make it a caravan route of a different sort, one that brings tourists, income and jobs, Sarabi says.
With U.S. forces scheduled to withdraw by 2014, Afghans here are skeptical of what the future holds. Col. Hafizallah Payman, the local police Regional Training Center commander, insists that if people support the police, the police can protect them. He says the real danger is if foreign nations abandon them financially.
"If financial support stops, people will start to fight each other, there will be a civil war as illiteracy spreads," he says.
Tahir, 18, an interpreter who says his father was killed under the Taliban, says tourism is not good.
"We don't have much tourists now in Bamiyan because not too many people are interested in seeing the destroyed Buddhas, also the security situation is bad," says Tahir, who would give only his first name. "If the Taliban come back, we cannot live over here."
Capt. James DeCann, a U.S. military adviser at the training center, believes that with proper training of the police force, the people here can lead secure lives. But they will have to do it themselves. "At the end of the day, they are going to have to win this fight," he says.
USA TODAY
BAMIYAN, Afghanistan – The massive Buddhas that were carved into the sandstone cliffs here 15 centuries ago are gone, and so too are those who dynamited them into oblivion.
American troops have cleared out the Taliban from this valley. But the people of Bamiyan live in fear that the strict Muslim clerics and their ruthless brand of Islam are not gone for good.
"We need the Americans," says Haji Hussain, 40, the owner of a grocery store who says he was shot by the Taliban. "When they leave, it will be very difficult and the Taliban will come back."
This province in eastern Afghanistan is known for spectacular mountain scenery of the Hindu Kush and deep-blue lakes that change hue as the sun moves over the sky. It is an ancient land that lies on the Silk Road, the trade route that caravans once took from China.
The people here are Hazaras, Shiite Muslims who descend from Mongols and who for years has been discriminated against by the more numerous Sunnis in the south, known as Pashtuns.
It was the Pashtuns who gave birth to the Taliban. Its adherents prevailed in a civil war in 1996 and made news periodically for edicts it said were rooted in Quran: public executions of adulterous women, bans on music, kites, and men marrying 9-year-old girls.
Bamiyan resisted, and close to 600 of its people died at the hands of the Taliban.
But it was not until March of 2001 that the Taliban made world headlines, shocking archeologists and awakening governments to the unique nature of the regime. Taliban leader Mullah Mohammed Omar ordered the destruction of a treasure of the ancient world, the Bamiyan Buddhas, carved in the 6th century by monks who meditated in the caves of what was an early Hindu-Buddhist monastery.
The larger of the two statues at 175 feet was the tallest standing Buddha in existence. Omar deemed them un-Islamic idols, and when machine guns failed to destroy them they were erased by dynamite despite cries from the world community that they be spared.
Six months later the Taliban refused another request — to turn over to the USA the architect of the Sept. 11 terror attacks, Osama bin Laden. The refusal led to a U.S.-led invasion that dislodged the Taliban from the capital of Kabul but began a war that continues to this day.
More than 100 miles west of Kabul, Bamiyan in July was the first province to be handed to the Afghan security forces by NATO forces.
Today construction abounds in the region, and new stores can be seen in a bustling downtown. A map outside the office of Bamiyan governor, Habiba Sarabi, the only female governor in Afghanistan, displays what Bamiyan might look like one day. It details plans to boost tourism by improving ground and air transport.
Sarabi condemns the destruction of the statues and has been a target of the Taliban, she says. "It was not only the Taliban but other hands behind that too, to destroy the identities of the Bamiyan people," she says.
Life has changed dramatically since the Taliban was forced out by NATO. Schooling is better and more open. There are 125,000 children attending classes and close to half are female. Under the Taliban girls were forbidden from getting an education.
On this day women are seen walking the streets of Bamiyan, books in hand. Hussain Noori, 28, says that is a change from life under the Taliban, which banned women from going outside without a burqa.
"They are not forced to cover themselves," he says. "It is up to them."
Foreign archeologists have flocked here in recent years and have unearthed artifacts that could become a major tourist draw. In 2008, what may be the first known use of oil paint was found in Buddhist images inside some of the thousands of caves here.
Yet the road from Kabul to Bamiyan can be a dangerous route. Better security could make it a caravan route of a different sort, one that brings tourists, income and jobs, Sarabi says.
With U.S. forces scheduled to withdraw by 2014, Afghans here are skeptical of what the future holds. Col. Hafizallah Payman, the local police Regional Training Center commander, insists that if people support the police, the police can protect them. He says the real danger is if foreign nations abandon them financially.
"If financial support stops, people will start to fight each other, there will be a civil war as illiteracy spreads," he says.
Tahir, 18, an interpreter who says his father was killed under the Taliban, says tourism is not good.
"We don't have much tourists now in Bamiyan because not too many people are interested in seeing the destroyed Buddhas, also the security situation is bad," says Tahir, who would give only his first name. "If the Taliban come back, we cannot live over here."
Capt. James DeCann, a U.S. military adviser at the training center, believes that with proper training of the police force, the people here can lead secure lives. But they will have to do it themselves. "At the end of the day, they are going to have to win this fight," he says.
USA TODAY
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