Deployment Journal: Herat orphanage challenges fate, restores hope for generations

  • Published
  • By Tech. Sgt. Kevin Wallace
  • 100th Air Refueling Wing Public Affairs
HERAT, Afghanistan (March 28, 2011) --  From the walls of an eroding building in an insipid Herat City neighborhood, I heard tiny footsteps and laughter March 26, as orphaned children ran about singing and playing.

The orphans covered their tiny bodies with tattered clothes, most with no shoes, but were still miraculously excited. That day, they knew we were there to deliver much-needed school supplies and donated toys.

I was with 7th Squadron, 10th Cavalry Regiment Soldiers from the Delta Forward Support Troop at Camp Stone. This unit has supported the Herat City Orphanage for three months, and plans continued support into the next rotation of Soldiers.

After receiving gifts, a small boy entered the orphanage singing a song very quietly, in a near whisper.

Sitting down, 4-year-old Nasir Nagor Ahman sang a song that revealed what weight sits daily on his tiny, little heart.

I sat beside him to listen.

"I lost my mother and father, and know that I'm an orphan," sang Ahman.

He got quiet for a few moments and the interpreter explained to me that Ahman's parents died when he was a toddler, and the orphanage is the only home he knows.

His home is quite modest.

Walking through Herat City Orphanage, which houses 105 boys between the ages of 4 and 16, I witnessed their ragged condition, which revealed itself with carpet-less concrete floors, broken dining tables and discolored walls.

Despite their hardships, lack of public school-appropriate clothes, fuel and food shortages, mental growth and progress has continued to thrive at the orphanage over the years.

I was astounded by a handful of young teenage boys studying algebra on a small, broken whiteboard. Meanwhile, several young children could be heard playing on a swing-set in the courtyard.

The orphanage can only afford to provide meat with two meals a week, and the faculty pays for many of the orphanage's necessities out of their own pockets. Yet, the children have a seemingly unparalleled will to survive.

That wasn't always the case.

"Years ago I had about 350 orphans here in this very building," said Azamary Mohmandziy, the headmaster, who gave us a tour of his school. "One day the Taliban came and took away nearly all my children. They said the boys were old enough to work and left only the 30 youngest behind."

Mohmandziy told me that day was one of the worst in his life. But I soon learned more tragedy would come to pass before hints of happiness would return to the orphanage.

"The next year, the Taliban returned and took away the rest of my children, only leaving behind seven. I feared I'd eventually lose them too so I brought them into my home and raised them as my own children, and the orphanage had to close its doors for many years," said Mohmandziy.

All seven of the children he raised went on to finish high school, enter Herat City's University, and moved on to professional careers. One became a medical doctor and another returned to teach Dari, Pashtu, English, biology and math at the orphanage.

Once the Taliban was removed from power, Mohmandziy re-opened the orphanage but had to start from shambles and received little funding.

"These kids will be Afghanistan's future, and we have to teach them hard work and education is the key to their fate," said Mohmandziy, stressing to me how when a child is dealt the worst hand in life, they can easily be swayed toward crime. "I push them hard to keep them from crime or corruption."

Mohamad Abdul Latif, a 10-year-old orphan, kicked a soccer ball with me briefly. He said he wants to become a doctor and spends all his free time studying, but also enjoys playing soccer.

The Afghan Institute of Learning answered some of Mohmandziy's calls for help and staffed two shift-working nurses at the orphanage, and provides medical supplies. The nurses aren't available 24/7 and I soon noticed medicine is in short supply.

Support continues to grow for the orphanage, and for a good reason. During Afghanistan's darkest years, children were made into laborers and not afforded an education or even a childhood.

As conditions improve, some scars will never heal.

After a long silence, a tear began to roll down Ahmad's little cheek and he continued to sing, "I miss my sister, I don't know where she is or where she lives, and I don't even remember what she looks like. I love her."