| Afghan children attend class at a village school. (File picture)
Wach Tangi, Afghanistan, Feb. 4: Even before the winter wind had scattered the ashes of their village school, the people of this poor hamlet in eastern Afghanistan decided they had to fight back.
On a bitterly cold night last month, suspected Taliban militants set fire to all five “classrooms”, housed in canvas tents donated by a humanitarian agency. It was one of nearly 200 schools across the country burned in the last year by Islamic insurgents.
Four hundred more schools were closed by threats and intimidation, driving more than 130,000 students from their classrooms and dealing a harsh blow to international efforts to rebuild an education system ravaged during the years of Taliban rule.
Over the last three months, however, the rate of attacks has fallen dramatically, with fewer than half a dozen schools believed to have been targeted. Education officials attribute the decrease at least in part to a nationwide drive to create local “defence committees” for schools, enlisting the help of tribal elders, Islamic clerics and, in some cases, home-grown militias.
The people of Wach Tangi believed their village was too remote and their tent school too rudimentary to attract any Taliban militants in the area.
The road leading to the village of 1,800 people resembles a dry riverbed: winding, pitted and stone-strewn. So arid and forbidding is the landscape that in the Pashto language, Wach Tangi means “valley without water”.
But on the night of January 6, arsonists took the trouble to make the journey, and methodically set each tent ablaze. Villagers raised the alarm within moments, but it was too late. The classrooms vanished in a whoosh of flames.
“We realised right away that we had made a big mistake by not doing more to protect ourselves, to protect our school,” headmaster Wali Mohammed said.
A posse of village men took to the dry hills, trying unsuccessfully to track the arsonists. The next day, virtually all of Wach Tangi’s families, even the poorest, agreed to chip in what they could to have armed men guard the school at night once it reopened.
Within two days, the village had organised a protection committee made up of its most influential citizens, charged with the task of keeping the school, its pupils and its teachers safe.
The school is up and running again, in Unicef-donated tents. But the fire remains fresh in everyone’s mind.
“Those who did this to our school are enemies of our country,” said Abdul Wahed, a white-bearded tribal elder. “We won’t allow this to happen to us or to our children.”
Afghanistan’s education ministry has encouraged grass-roots school-protection initiatives in recent months, even though the central government has no money to fund them. There are no reliable figures, but the ministry believes more than half the country’s 9,000 schools are under some form of locally organised protection.
“There just aren’t enough police to watch over every school in the country,” said Zuhoor Afghan, a ministry spokesman. “But the local people know their own towns and villages best. They know who is a stranger; they know who has business there and who does not.”
Villagers are aware that their vigilante methods could cost them their lives. The Taliban, whose name means “students”, see western-style education as a threat to their concept of a pure Islamic state.