When I was 11, I remember waking up one morning to the sound of joy in my house. My father was listening to BBC News on his small, gray radio. There was a big smile on his face which was unusual then, because the news mostly depressed him.
11-jir markaan ahaay, Waxaan xasuustaa inaan subax kusoo kacay dhawaaq farxadeed oo gurigeena ka jiray. aabahay waxuu dhagaysanaayay aqbaacta BBC-da raadiyihiisa yaraa ee dambasta u ekaay. Wejigiisa waxa ka muuqday dhoolacadeen aad u weyn oo aan caadi aheen waqtigaas, maxaa yelay aqbaaradka marwalbo wey niyad jebin jireen.
"The Taliban are gone!" my father shouted.
" Taalibaaniintii weey baxeen!" ayuu aabehey mar qura ku dhawaaqay.
I didn't know what it meant, but I could see that my father was very, very happy.
ma'aanan ogeyn wuxuu ula jeedo, laakin waxan arki karay inuu aabahey aad iyo aad u faraxsanaa.
"You can go to a real school now," he said.
"Hada waxaad aadi kartaa iskuul dhab ah ", Ayuu yiri.
A morning that I will never forget. A real school. You see, I was six when the Taliban took over Afghanistan and made it illegal for girls to go to school. So for the next five years, I dressed as a boy to escort my older sister, who was no longer allowed to be outside alone, to a secret school. It was the only way we both could be educated. Each day, we took a different route so that no one would suspect where we were going. We would cover our books in grocery bags so it would seem we were just out shopping. The school was in a house, more than 100 of us packed in one small living room. It was cozy in winter but extremely hot in summer. We all knew we were risking our lives -- the teacher, the students and our parents. From time to time, the school would suddenly be canceled for a week because Taliban were suspicious. We always wondered what they knew about us. Were we being followed? Do they know where we live? We were scared, but still, school was where we wanted to be.
Subax aanan weligeey hilmaami doonin. Iskuul dhab ah. Sida aad u jeedid, waxaan jiray 6 sano markay Taliban qabsadeen Afgaanistan misna ay soo rogeen ineey mamnuc tahay gabar ineey iskuul aado. Shanti sano ee soo socotay, waxaan ulabisan jiray sida wiil si aan u ilaaliyo walaashey, oo markaas loo ogoleen ineey banaan si kali ah u aado oo ay si qarsoodi ah u dhigato Iskuul. waxay ahayd wadada kaliya aan labadeenaba aqoon yahano ku noqon karno. waxaan maalin walbo mari jirnay wada kala duwan si ay qofna nooga shakinin meesha aan usocono Waxaan buugaagteena ku dabooli jirnay baagaga adeega si ay u muuqato inaan soo adeeganeenay. Iskuulku wuxuu ku dhexyaalay guri, In ka badan 100 anaga ah ayaa waxa nalagu xareen jiray qol jiif oo yar. waqtiga jiilalka wuu iska yara roona laakin xagaaga aad buu ukululaay. Nolosheena inaan halis galineeno waan ogeen-- macalimiinta, ardayda iyo waalidiinteenaba. waqti walbo waxaala baajin jiray iskuulka ilaa iyo hal isbuuc maxa yelay Taalibaaniinta ayaa naga shakin jiray. Mar walbo waxaan la fajacsaneen waxa ee naga ogyihiin. Miyaan nala beegsan jiray? Miyeey ogyihiin halka aan ku noolnahay? Aaad ayaan u baqan jirnay, laakin weli, Iskuulka ayuu ahaa meesha kaliya aan rabno.
I was very lucky to grow up in a family where education was prized and daughters were treasured. My grandfather was an extraordinary man for his time. A total maverick from a remote province of Afghanistan, he insisted that his daughter, my mom, go to school, and for that he was disowned by his father. But my educated mother became a teacher. There she is. She retired two years ago, only to turn our house into a school for girls and women in our neighborhood. And my father -- that's him -- he was the first ever in his family to receive an education. There was no question that his children would receive an education, including his daughters, despite the Taliban, despite the risks. To him, there was greater risk in not educating his children. During Taliban years, I remember there were times I would get so frustrated by our life and always being scared and not seeing a future. I would want to quit, but my father, he would say, "Listen, my daughter, you can lose everything you own in your life. Your money can be stolen. You can be forced to leave your home during a war. But the one thing that will always remain with you is what is here, and if we have to sell our blood to pay your school fees, we will. So do you still not want to continue?"
aad baan unasiib badanahaya inaan kusoo dhex koro qoys halka waxbarasha iyo gabdhahaba aad looga qiimeeyo. Awoowgey waqtigisa wuxuu ahaa nin aad u cajiib leh . Aqoonyahan sare oo ka imaaday gobol aad u dheer ee ku yaalo Afgaanistan wuxuu ku adkeesaday in gabadhiisa, oo ah hooyadey, ay aado iskuul, misna ay arintaas darteed aabihiisa ku deeyriyay. Laakin hooyadeyda aqoonyahanta aheyd ayaa macalimad noqotay. Waa tanaa. Laba sano kahor ayeey shaqa gabtay, si ay gurigeena ugu badasho Iskuul wax lagu baro gabdhaha iyo dumarka dariskeena ahaay. Abaahey --- waa kaa-- Wuxuu ahaa qofkii ugu horeeyay ee qoyskiisa oo wax barto. Marnaba su'aal kama taagneen in caruurtiisa ay wax baran doonaan, taas oo ay kujiraan gabdhiisa, Inkastoo Taalibaan iyo halistooda ay jireen. Asiga ahaan, majirin halis ka daran aqoon la'aanta caruutiisa. Waxaan xasuustaa, xilayadii Taalibaaniyiinta in mararka qaar aan aad nolsheena uga niyad-jebi jiray misna aan aad u cabsan jiray oo aana mustaqbal ku hamin jirin. Waxaan rabay inaan iska dhaafo, laakin aabahey, wuxuu igu oran jiray, Maqal, gabadheey-diyeey, wax walbo oo aad noloshaada leedahay weey kaa dhumi karaan. Lacagtaada waa lagaa xadi karaa. Waqtiyada dagaalka gurigaaga xoog waalagaga baxsan karaa. Laakin sheyga kaliya mar walbo kuu harayo waa waxa halkani ku jiro, xitaa hadaan dhiigeena kuu iibino si aan qarashka wax barashadada kaaga bixino, waan ku sameen doona. Marka miyaadan rabin inaad wadato waxbarasha-daada?"
Today I am 22. I was raised in a country that has been destroyed by decades of war. Fewer than six percent of women my age have made it beyond high school, and had my family not been so committed to my education, I would be one of them. Instead, I stand here a proud graduate of Middlebury College.
Maanta waxaan ahay 22-jir. waxaan kusoo koray wadan aad u bur-buriyay dagaalo socday qarniyo. In kayar 6% dumar da'deyda ah ayaa ilaa dugsi-ga sare dhaafay, hadey familkeeyga dhanka waxbarasha-dayda ay marnaba ku dadaali laheen, Mid kamid ah ayaan maanta ahaan lahaa. Halkan ayan badalkii istagsanahay anoo kasoo qalin jibiyay Jaamacada Middlebury.
(Applause)
(Sacbis)
When I returned to Afghanistan, my grandfather, the one exiled from his home for daring to educate his daughters, was among the first to congratulate me. He not only brags about my college degree, but also that I was the first woman, and that I am the first woman to drive him through the streets of Kabul.
Goortii aan ku laabtay Afgaanistan, awoowahey, Midkii gurigiisa looga soo eryay geesinimo uu gabdhihiisa aqoonyahaniin ugu dhigo darteed, ayaa wuxu ka mid ahaa dadki ugu horeen ii hambalyeeyay. Kuma faano kaliyo heerka jaamacadayda, laakin inaan ahaay dumar tii ugu horeysay, misna aan ahay dumar tii ugu horeso ee gaari ku dhex wado wadooyinka Kabul.
(Applause)
(Sacbis)
My family believes in me. I dream big, but my family dreams even bigger for me. That's why I am a global ambassador for 10x10, a global campaign to educate women. That's why I cofounded SOLA, the first and perhaps only boarding school for girls in Afghanistan, a country where it's still risky for girls to go to school. The exciting thing is that I see students at my school with ambition grabbing at opportunity. And I see their parents and their fathers who, like my own, advocate for them, despite and even in the face of daunting opposition.
Qoyskeeyga weey i aaminsan yihiin. Heer sare ayaan ku riyoda, lakin famil-keyga heer ka sii sareeyo ayeey iigu sii riyodan Saas darteed ayaan waxan u ahay Safiir caalamiyeed ee 10x10, Olole caalami ah oo dumarka waxbaro. Saas darteed ayaa waxaan u sameenay SOLA, Iskuul xanaaneed kii ugu horeeyay oo gabdhaha ah ee ku yaalo Afgaanistan, wadan ay weli tahay in gabdhaha ay iskuul aadaan. Sheeyga farxada leh ayaa waxay tahay inaan arko arday dhigto iskuulkeyga kuwaaso leh hami ay ku qabsadaan Jaanis. Waxaan kaloo arkaa waalidiintooda kuwaaso ah kuwa sida waalidiinteyda u taageerayo, inkastoo ay jirto wejiyada cabsida badan ee kuwa kasoo horjeeda.
Like Ahmed. That's not his real name, and I cannot show you his face, but Ahmed is the father of one of my students. Less than a month ago, he and his daughter were on their way from SOLA to their village, and they literally missed being killed by a roadside bomb by minutes. As he arrived home, the phone rang, a voice warning him that if he sent his daughter back to school, they would try again.
Sida Ahmed. Ma ahin magaciisa rasmiga, mana idin tusi karo wejigiisa, Laakin Ahmed waa aabaha ardayad dhigata iskul kayga. Bil wax ka yar kahor ayaa asiga iyo gabadhiisa waxay u jeedeen xaafadooda ayagoo ka imaaday SOLA, waxayna ku sigteen ineey ku dhintaan bam loo dhigay geeska wadada daqiiqada gudahooda. Markuu guriga soo gaaray, ayaa waxaa usoo dhacay taleefanka, cod u digayo haduu dib gabadhiisa ugu diro iskuulka, ineey isku dayayaan qaraxa mar kale
"Kill me now, if you wish," he said, "but I will not ruin my daughter's future because of your old and backward ideas."
"Hada idila hadaad rabtaan," ayuu dhahay, "Laakin marnaba mustaqbalka gabadheyda kuma dheelayo waayo waxaad wadataan feker qaliban ."
What I've come to realize about Afghanistan, and this is something that is often dismissed in the West, that behind most of us who succeed is a father who recognizes the value in his daughter and who sees that her success is his success. It's not to say that our mothers aren't key in our success. In fact, they're often the initial and convincing negotiators of a bright future for their daughters, but in the context of a society like in Afghanistan, we must have the support of men. Under the Taliban, girls who went to school numbered in the hundreds -- remember, it was illegal. But today, more than three million girls are in school in Afghanistan.
Arinta aan Afgaanistan ka ogaaday, misna ah mid ay wadamada Galbeed-ka ay ka tageen, aya waxay tahay mid walbo anaga naga mid oo gulesytay inuu ka dambeyo aabe og qiimaha gabadhiisa misna arka inay guusheeda tahay guushiisa. macnaha mahin inay hooyo-yinkeena aheen furaha guusheena. Xaqiiqdi, waxay yihiin bilawga wada xaajood qancin kara mustaqbal ifo oo ay gabdhahooda helaan, laakin xaalada shacab sida kuwa Afgaanistan, waxa qasban inaan helno taagerida raga. Sharciga Taliban, gabdhaha aaday Iskuulka kuwaaso gaarayo boqoleeyo-- xasuuso, waxay aheyd sharci la'aan. Laakin maanta, gabdho ka badan 3 million ayaa dhigta iskuulada Afgaanistan.
(Applause)
(Sacbis)
Afghanistan looks so different from here in America. I find that Americans see the fragility in changes. I fear that these changes will not last much beyond the U.S. troops' withdrawal. But when I am back in Afghanistan, when I see the students in my school and their parents who advocate for them, who encourage them, I see a promising future and lasting change. To me, Afghanistan is a country of hope and boundless possibilities, and every single day the girls of SOLA remind me of that. Like me, they are dreaming big.
Afghanistan waxay umuuqata mid ka duwan halkaan America. waxaan u arkaa in Amerikaanku arko burburka is badal. Waxaan ka baqanaayo in is badalkani usii socon waayo hore markii ciidamada U.S-ka laga soo bixiyo. Laakin markii aan kusoo laabto Afgaanistan, oo aan arday ku arko iskuulkayga iyo waalidiintooda ku taaageerayo, misna ku dhiira gelinayo, waxaan arkaa mustaqbal aad u ifo iyo isbadal weligiisa socdo. Ani ahaan, Afgaanistaan waa wadan rajo iyo suura-gal badan leh, misna maalin walbo gabdhaha SOLA ayaa midaas isoo xasuusiyo. Heer sare ayee ku riyoodaan sidayda oo kale.
Thank you.
Mahadsanidiin.
(Applause)
(Sacbis)