He Left the House Laughing and Healthy but in the Evening, We Brought His Dead Body Home

Narrator: Sorayya Mirzaee

Victim: Abdul Majid

Date of the incident: 24 October 2020

Location of the incident: District 13, Kabul City, Pul-e Khoshk, Dasht-e Barchi, Kausar Danesh Educational Center

My name is Sorayya Mirzaee. My father’s name is Mohammad Ismail. I am 23-years-old. I graduated from high school and I'm a first-year student at the university. I have done one semester. I graduated from Sayyed Al Shohada High School. I was born in Hesa-e 2 District in Behsud. I live in Dasht-e Barchi, 13th District. I used to live in Maidan but currently I'm living in Kabul. I came here for my education. Well, insecurity was also a concern, but we relocated mainly for the education: my education, and my brothers’ and sisters’ education. I am doing my first year in university; I study Economics at a private university called Al Mustafa.

We were five brothers, one of whom was martyred: Abdul Majid. We have three sisters. We own a house. We were in Kabul when the incident happened. His name was Abdul Majid Mirzaee. He was graduating from school... He had not finished it yet, he was in twelfth grade, his last year. He was attending a preparation course exam at Kausar Danesh Educational Center for the entrance when the incident happened.

Abdul Majid was 18-years-old; he had just turned 18. He was born on 31 July 2004, in Safid Dival village, Hesa-e 2 District in Behsud, Maidan Wardak Province. I think Majid was in 3rd or 2nd grade at school, I don’t remember. He studied his first year in Behsud at Helmand High School and then we transferred him. He was only studying, not working. The incident happened while he was busy studying on 24 Oct 2020. It happened at 4:30 p.m. when they were dismissed. Their class was from 2:30 to 4:30 p.m. When they were coming out of the classroom, the incident happened in the alley.

The suicide bomber was a person; no car or things were involved. Based on the news and people’s narrations, an individual had entered. Some of our friends who were injured said that they had seen the suicide attacker. They say when they left the center and reached the end of the alley, a creepy guy looked around and entered the alley and the explosion took place. The alley on which the center is located is a dead end. The suicide bomber entered the alley, not the center. He exploded in the alley, exactly when the students were leaving the facility. Unfortunately, he was martyred there.

Yes, his friends were with him. My brother who is older than him was back from university and was standing in the courtyard. He received a call, and someone said, “Did you arrive home? A suicide explosion happened at the Kawsar center in Pul-e-Khushk." We got the news and ran towards the center. It was not too long after the incident that we entered the center. I saw everything in the alley: martyrs, wounded, rising dust, and everything. It was a bitter, painful incident. Then we went to check the hospitals. We searched a few hospitals in Barchi but he was not there. Then my father called us and said that he was in Mohammad Ali Jinnah Hospital and Majid was injured.

When we arrived there, he had passed away. The local people had transferred the wounded and martyrs to the hospitals. I do not know how they transported them. They said local people, there were no police, they came later. They called my elder brother. A few minutes later, his friends called and said, “Majid was injured and we took him to the hospital; you must go there.” My younger sister, who was at home, said they went there. They saw that he was martyred and his friends were around him.

He was wounded mostly in the back of his shoulder, on one hand, and one of his feet was badly injured. One of his friends who lives near us survived the attack. He gave the details of how they transported him. After class was dismissed, this friend left the center a few minutes earlier. He went back to the center after the incident. When we called him, he was at home but he was not picking up the phone. When my father called him, he answered and said he was at the hospital and my father went there to see him. No, we did not call. When my brother received the call, I ran towards the center. It was not too late when I reached the center; I saw the scene in the alley: martyrs, injured, and everything, including the screaming of families and the yelling of poor mothers.

He was martyred on the spot. I think the severity of the injuries on the back of his shoulder caused his death. His hand was also injured, but his shoulder was injured badly. There was a scar on the top of his eye and his face. I think he had been bleeding. I think it caught him from behind because the back of his shoulder was damaged the most. We did not see it, but those who saw it said that the back of his shoulder was injured severely.

When we went there, the bodies of the martyrs were wrapped in blankets given by the residents and were left in the corridor of the hospital. They did not allow us to see them properly. Later, my father said that there were two dead bodies before him. “When I uncovered the face of the first and second body, I prayed ‘Oh God! please have mercy; I wish my son is injured.’ I revealed the face of the third one, it was my son.” They didn’t show it to me. At the time of burial, they showed his face to my mother, but I did not see it. I fainted; I was not able to see.

During the funeral bath, our close relatives did not allow my father to see him. The center is a private sector entity. They did well to the extent possible. They held a ceremony on the 40th day of the martyrs. They said they had not received any warning or information about the attack.

I don’t know; they have not told us about it. All I know is that a security guard at the center was also martyred in the attack. They say he saw the person and shouted that a suspected person wanted to enter; the suicide explosion happened when he tried to stop the attacker. He lost his life. My brother was single. I was with my brother in the courtyard when he received a call. I ran outside. My mother was at home. She said, “When you ran outside, she ran after you.” She said, “There was someone on the road. I asked him to take me to the Kawsar center, there has been an explosion there. He said that the students were inside the center. I became a little relaxed. I said, no, I must go! My son is there.” His father called to say that Majid was injured and was at Mohammad Ali Jinnah Hospital. She said this person took her to the hospital by motorcycle. She said, when she arrived at the hospital, she saw my father who looked terrified. She asked him where Majid was. “He did not say anything. I asked again where was my son, Majid. In which room? Is he injured? He kept silent and I understood that he was martyred”.

My poor mother was in a bad condition, and she still is. No matter what I tell her, she is the same. She is traumatized and scared. When the suicide explosion happened at Sayed-al-Shuhada school, two of my sisters were enrolled there. On that same day, my younger sister did not go to school, but the older one did. When my mother heard about the explosion, she was so restless. She could not control herself. She was laying, screaming, “Oh my God! I became lonely! My daughters are at school.”

We received his corpse from the hospital at 10 o’clock on the same day of the attack, and we buried him in Kabul the next day at 9 o’clock. We did not bury him on the hilltop over the township. We buried him on the hillside near the house.

He was very close to me. We were friendly. He was also good with this brother of mine. On the nights he was working out in the club, he would train my two little sisters after he was back home. He was very good-tempered. I'll never forget Majid’s smile. He knew that he wanted to study and live his life, his favourite subject was Economics. I see some of his stuff at home, his handouts, and books. He has written about what he wanted to score in the entrance exam. It was very hard to lose him but we will never forget him, his memories, his stories, especially his laughter. Whatever we said, he used to laugh. He was an affable person. None of his classmates at school or the center were upset with him. They always say he was a good-natured boy.

There is a memory of him that I remember and I won't forget. It's from a few nights before the attack. We were sitting together. Somehow, we were batchmates; I had started school late and we were working to solve questions. He told me that he had learned a lot about economics and was very interested in studying it, and he wanted to know my opinion. I said, "Whatever you like.” Then he wrote his favourite subject and his desired score in the entrance exam on a sheet of paper. I will never forget that. The next day was Friday. He left early because he had an exam at the center. He took the exam but his score was unknown; the scores were supposed to be announced on Saturday. This past Friday, he was awake late at night. My mother remembers, “It was 12:30 midnight and the light in Majid's bedroom was turned on. I asked him: 'haven't you slept yet?' He said that in that day’s exam, there were some questions that he didn't understand so he was reviewing them and then he would go to bed.” She said, "When I went there in the morning, he had already woken up. I said ‘How did you wake up so early?’ He said he had something to do at school. It was six o'clock when he went to school and said the school had asked for photos, photocopies of ID cards, and other things for the school diploma. It was 10:30 AM when he came back from school." My mother asked: “Majid, you did not go to the library?” Usually, he would go to the library and study there. Responding to my mother, he said, “No mother, I didn't go. I was at school today for the ID card. All of us sitting and chatting. It was cold." The cold season was approaching. He jokingly said, "Have you been to the market to see the new coats? I need to get one." We were still chatting when he said he had to go to the library.

He left the house with a smile that I will never forget and said goodbye. My mother was out shopping for groceries. Majid left the house and said, "I'm going to the library and will then go to the educational center.” My mother returned and asked where Majid was. “I didn't prepare anything for him, he did not have breakfast, where did he go?” she asked. We said he went to the library. At noon, he left the house healthy and laughing but in the evening, we brought home his dead body. He was going to Sayyid al-Shohada school. It is near our house. My elder brother and I graduated from the same school; my two sisters also attend the same school. It was Majid's last year of school, but they didn't let him finish it. Sayyid al-Shohada school is in District 13. The town and school both go by the same name. We buried Majib past the school.

Neither my father nor my mother is in good condition. My father fainted last night. I told him I met martyr Aman’s father – Aman was Majid’s friend - and he told me stories, my father then passed out. I stayed with him until late at night, he was screaming calling “take me to Majid so I see him laughing once more.”

Our message to The Taliban and Ashraf Ghani's government forces is that they should stop. How long are they going to do this? They killed so many people and hurt so many mothers; I call on both sides to stop it. We do not have any demand or expectation from the current government. Even if we did, the government has never helped us and will not help. The only thing I want them to do is to stop the war. We have given so much sacrifice; we had a lot of martyrs, a lot of mothers lost their beloved children, but the government has never helped the families of victims. The government has taken no action.

Our house is close to Sayyed Al Shohada High School. The attack happened on the other side while we were in the courtyard of our house. We heard the sound. My father was at home. One of my sisters had not gone to school but the elder one, Farzana, had. I ran towards the school. When I arrived there, I saw the whole incident. Farzana was not there so I looked around to find her. She had left the school when the incident happened; she was shocked and had to be hospitalized at a mental health center. I saw the entire thing with my own eyes: the martyrs, the wounded, the hapless mothers. Farzana said she was a few steps away from school when she heard the sound. She has been suffering from mental complications after Majid’s death; she said she didn’t realize what was happening. We went there but did not find her. My brother was already searching for her when I arrived. Then, my little sister came and said Farzana was at home. We returned home and found Farzana shouting. She kept calling the names of her friends and classmates. We took her to the doctor. She stayed in the hospital for one night. We brought her home the next day but she has not been feeling well. After the incidents at both the Kauser Center and her school, she is suffering from a mental disorder. She is being treated. Her eyesight is weakened. Her friends were martyred. She is distraught about that. She lost two of her closest friends. She says she does not want to study anymore and does not want to go to school. “If I go to school and find their chairs empty, what am I going to do?” she asks. Due to the quarantine, the school is closed for now.

She had come out of the school earlier after classes were dismissed.

It was the month of Ramadan; she was fasting. She had a headache. She said, "When I left school, I had a headache. So I left the classroom early." My youngest brother is 10-years-old and my youngest sister is 14-years-old. He frequently recalls Majid. He dreams of Majid coming home. When he was younger, Majid would train my two litter sisters and my little brother at home after returning from the sports club. He used to go to a Muay Thai club. He misses him a lot. When he does something, he says he learned it from Majid. He recalls Majid telling him what to do and what not to do. My little brother misses him too much but not my little sister. He had a trainer in the gym. He used to exercise with a trainer and he used to train Farzana and Habibullah, his little brother.

He wished to enter the Faculty of Economics. He had set his desired score and said he wanted to study to get that score. He would mostly talk about his studies.

He constantly thought about the future and his plans. He was always eager to know more about the entrance exam, asking us to tell him about the exam so he could determine his fate accordingly. He did not even think of getting martyred. He used to say, “I want to take the exam and succeed in my favourite subject. I want to be someone in the future.” I don't know who took responsibility for the Kausar Danesh suicide attack. I have people saying the Taliban did not take responsibility for it; I don’t know which group did. After the incident, no government official visited our house. Neither government authorities nor executives of the educational center came here to console us. Maybe they participated in the Fatiha ceremony at the mosque, but no one came to our house.

Some people assisted the families of the martyrs. The government only provided an honorarium to the families of martyrs and the wounded, but nothing more than that. There were some families of martyrs who wanted to find out who was behind the attack. They went to some authorities but no one heard their voices. The poor father of Majid's friend said he tried very hard and ran here and there, but no one heard his voice.

Amanullah was his closest friend who was martyred too. The two of them were very close friends and both were martyred. Aman was severely injured. Majid had fewer injuries. Aman was found later because he was badly injured and his family could hardly identify him, but we quickly found Majid at the hospital. His friends did not say if they had seen the suicide attacker. Only one of the wounded, who is here today, said he saw him with his own eyes. He said he had just left the center and had arrived at the end of the alley when the suspect entered the alley. “We said look at him, he is terrified, someone must have told him something,” the wounded witness said. At that time, students were not allowed to bring bags inside the center, but there was another center in the same alley where students were allowed to carry bags. The suspect had a bag and they thought he may be a student at the other center. According to the witness, he was looking around and looked terrified. “We were looking at him when he exploded. We didn’t see what happened next,” the witness said.

They didn’t visit us at home. On the fortieth day after the martyrs, they organized a Fatiha ceremony at school and some of the martyr’s families participated. I am ready to do everything so they can study and have a better situation. We took Farzana, whose mental condition was very serious, to the doctor. I help her a lot. I never talk to her about that incident; when they talk about it, I comfort them by telling them to embrace the reality and that so many families have suffered. I tell them we can't sit idle and do nothing; they must struggle and continue their studies. Farzana is my elder sister. She is very good at school and is very interested in writing, poetry, and such things. She had lost the morale to continue her studies, but now she is doing better.

My father was there and didn’t let us see Majid’s face. I do not know why he did not allow us. Maybe because he thought I’m not strong enough to see such a scene. When we arrived home, my mother was screaming and wanted to see his face for the last time and kiss him. Before they took him to the cemetery, they showed his face to my mother, but they did not allow her to get close to him.

After the incident at Sayyid al-Shohada, Farzana did not go to school. Initially, she said she did not want to study anymore. After we talked to her, she was convinced. Later, she used to say, "Get me transferred to a different school, I'm not going to that school any longer.” My brother Majid also attended the same school. He had not graduated. His photo was posted on the school wall. She would say, “When I go to school and see Majid's photo and the photo of two other persons, it badly affects my morale. Now that my classmates and friends have been martyred in the suicide attack, I can't visit that place anymore.” She wanted us to transfer her to a different school. We transferred my youngest brother to another school, but Farzana is yet to be transferred. My youngest brother, Habibullah, is in 4th grade. After the incident, he has become withdrawn and frightened. He is easily scared. If a door shuts loudly, he thinks it was a suicide attack. He has turned anxious and introverted. He was very intelligent and held the first position at school but last year, his ranking dropped to the fifth position. After transferring him to the new school this year, his teacher says, “He is fearful. We are trying to help him forget everything about the incident.” He has a tablet on which he has installed games and some books, but he has found and set a photo of Majid on the screen. I tell him not to do that but he doesn’t respond. He is traumatized.

No, we have not taken Habibullah to the doctor. We tried to comfort him at home, and talk to him. Recently, he has been playing with other children and he is feeling better. In the beginning, it hurt him badly; he was so isolated and used to sit alone in a room. He did not play with other kids and did not join children of his age. We would tell him, “Get up Habib! Your friends are calling you; your classmates are waiting.” He is better now. Returning from university or other places, we do not like to enter the house because of my mother’s condition. She is highly depressed. I have a niece who is one and a half years old. My mom says whenever she holds her, she recalls raising Majid in the same way, falling asleep in her arms. Returning home, we know we would encounter this situation. We keep wondering if she is well and if someone has visited her and talked to her about the incident, making her distressed. We try our best so she does not recall the incident, but it doesn’t work.