Learning on the frontline

Appalling conditions but life continues in Afghanistan

		By Kate Clark BBC Afghanistan correspondent

Charikar is the nearest town to the frontlines north of Kabul. Two years ago, the Taleban captured it, but only briefly.

Northern Alliance fighters, hidden in homes and buildings, emerged at night to surprise the Taleban, slitting throats and driving out what people here see as the invaders.

But the Taleban guns are still close by, on the hills overlooking the west of the town.

In a classroom pock-marked with bullet and shrapnel holes, 13-year-old Nazira recites a centuries-old Islamic poem.

The classroom is never far from the conflict

I'm in one of the girls' schools in the town of Charikar, just an hour's walk from the frontline. The head of the school, Mohada Sadiq, says these days there's often a very different subject on the curriculum.

When I go to the youngest class to greet them in the morning, the tiniest children say "Do you know what's happened?" And they tell me what the Taleban have done, what Osama has said, what the Americans are doing. They tell me the news.

Their teacher asks what is happening now. One of the girls answers, "The mujahadeen forces are advancing on Mazar city and America has bombed Kabul again", she says. She's absolutely accurate.

War views

I'm in a little class known as class four. Not everyone has seats, some are squashed together. Ranging in age from someone like Nazira who's thirteen and quite grown-up looking, to Nazima who's just six, looking lovely, in a mustard coloured headscarf.

They're starting to become a little less shy as I come into the room.

I ask the girls if they think the American air strikes are a good or a bad thing.

Humaira answers in Persian: "It would mean peace, the defeat of the Taleban, calm in our country", she tells me.

I wonder what the psychological impact is on the children living so near to the frontline.

Mohada Sadiq says the children are used to it. "The people of Afghanistan are used to it. These are tough times, but we're still studying. We've got used to war. It doesn't bother us".

Many children have been orphaned by years of war

I ask her does she think the Americans can bring peace to Afghanistan?

She laughs. "If they want to, yes, if they don't want to, no," she explains in Persian. "Do you think they want to bring peace?" I say.

"We're waiting for the result of this bombardment," she responds.

One of the school cleaners, Riza Gul, has just put her head through the window and started giving her opinion.

She's old, bent and has clear hazel eyes and she's crying.

"My boys were all killed in the war, I only have three daughters left. My heart is broken. We're fed up with fighting, with the bullets, with the warplanes. We'll only be happy if peace is brought to our land", she says.

As I make my way up to the top floor I can really see the destruction.

Lucky escape

Last year when the Taleban were bombing here, the children were actually studying. Luckily no-one was killed.

The after effects are still visible. There are no windows and all the walls are pock-marked with bullet holes and shrapnel and in winter, the head teacher says, the cold eats them up.

Mohada Sadiq asks would anyone else in the world be able to carry on studying in these conditions. I have to say certainly in Britain I don't think we would, but we might.

But there's a certain tenacity and resolve in Afghanistan that means that people living even so close to the frontline are still trying to get about their normal business.