A School for Lac Laconth

Over the past several months Deutsche Welle has worked in cooperation with the non-profit organization Cap Anamur to collect donations to help fund 100 classrooms in war-torn Afghanistan. During this time Deutsche Welle reporter Sandra Petersmann traversed the countryside, speaking to the those hardest hit by the two decades of fighting -- the children and their families. Recently she was present at the opening of a Cap Anamur school in the tiny mountain village of Lac Laconth in northern Afghanistan.

Opening the door for Afghanistan's children

The children in Lac Laconth can’t wait to enter the new building. But first they have to wait for the staff of Cap Anamur to arrive. "Tashakor," they keep on shouting, "Thank you," they yell even louder, hoping the words will make the aid workers come quicker.

Finally, the small staff of the German NGO arrives after a lengthy trip through potholes and quagmire. As in most of northern Afghanistan, the streets around the village of Lac Laconth are in extremely bad condition.

In this jagged mountain region on the border of Tadshikistan everyone lives off the land and the animals. Empty gun cartridges and the rusty shells of army tanks litter the streets -- silent reminders that there was a war going on even in this remote village.

That’s why Cap Anamur’s Peter Geier in his inauguration speech leaves no doubt which kind of spirit shall prevail in the new school. "Teacher, doctor, engineer -- these are the professions of the future, not soldiers," he says to the people gathered for the opening of the new school.

The village elders remain silent, their eyes cast to the ground. They have never learned to read or write.

"Guns are the weapons of ignorance, but a pen is the weapon of knowledge," Geier says in a firm voice. And before the Cologne doctor’s last sentence has been translated into Dari, the children cry out in joyful cheers and rush into the building. They have waited long enough for this moment.

First day at school

Despite their attempts to maintain order, the teachers surrender to the 1,400 boys and girls who are quick to take possession of the 14 classrooms -- 8 for the boys and 6 for the girls. For almost all the children it’s the first time they have ever been to school -- a real school with a black board and a thick red carpet and a roof to keep out the rain and provide shade from the intense sun.

The 15-year-old Sayed Khaireden is excited to finally get a chance to learn. Although he has to walk more than an hour each day to reach the school in Lac Laconth, he says it’s more than worth it.

"We can only learn in the school," he says proudly. "If we don’t go to school, we’ll stay dumb and then we can’t become doctors."

Sayed’s school year is going to be a short one this year. Just as soon as the harsh winter weather with its minus degrees and piles of snow descends on the village, the school will have to shut down and the children will stay at home.

But for the time being the children are concentrating on their lessons. A group of second grade girls sing a song, praising the values of education.

"My beautiful country," they chime, "When you were at war, we could not help you. Now we are learning for peace, beloved country. We are learning for your future."

Education -- a dream for all

Not all the children in this remote region of Afghanistan are as lucky as the pupils attending the new school. Many are forced to stay at home and work to help feed the family.

One of these is Abdul Kahar. Hiding behind the jeep of the Cap Anamur staff, the 13-year-old boy shyly watches what is going on inside the new building. His donkey is loaded with hay, and he holds the reins tightly -- he really should be on his way home, but he is curious.

Abdul can’t go to school like the other boys. He has to look after his mother and his three younger sisters since his father was killed by a landmine a few months ago. Now he is the man in the house.

"Sure, it would be better to go to school," he says, "but I have to earn money. I don’t know what will happen to me. I’ll work as a farmer now." Then, as an afterthought, he adds quietly, "It would be nice to open up a small shop."

Peter Geier listens closely to Abdul, who can’t write anything more than his name. Working children are part of what he sees every day just like bombed out schools, landmines and armed militia. But Geier also knows there are some 40,000 others in this northern Afghan province of Takhar who will be able to visit one of the 30 schools his organization has built so far. And he hopes that number will increase soon.