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to shape all the models for her projects, as she would design all that her imagination
would allow to design rockets only limited to her imagination, however never lacking

structure or design. She would collect all her little projects and then give them to her

teachers who would bawl their eyes out at them and show them to all the little girls who
also aspired to be someone their country, their people, their customs and most of all their

gender would not allow. The question that often clouded her thoughts was how she was

ever going to reach Washington DC; it truly baffled her how her strength would fly her
thousands of miles away; little did she know her fate was about to change. Nila Abdali,

one of the best cardiologists of the USA, who was from Afghanistan and had flown into
Afghanistan to meet her family who owned the village of Peshi Puza a few kilometers

from Kabul. The motive of her visit had been to fund high schools for girls and construct
a few campuses of their own. Rain in Kabul was like water running free in the desert, it

cleansed and cleaned all the pavements and bloodied pathways in the bazaars that had

been collecting blood from all the butchers’ shops. Each drop felt like a drop from the
streams of heaven to Fatima who was walking to her high school to say goodbye to her

teachers and leave all her dreams in her high school for someone else to achieve, her
chador swaying along with her, wet from all the rainwater and flooded with mud along

with her shoes. Black SUVs and jeeps surrounded the school from all four sides, the
vehicles all crowded together and guards safeguarding the vehicles. Fatima’s eyes

drifting around all that was present around her, her eyes searching for her school. As

she enters from amongst the tall and dark vehicles she is shocked to find her school
deprived of girls and she can only land her eyes on one familiar face standing in a shed,

which is her school explaining something to a women who appears to be in a burqa

however her face can be seen, she stands tall, her navy blue burqa falling from her
shoulders and her face full of light and her cheeks as red as apples. When Fatima’s eyes

land on all of the project that she had given her teachers displayed behind Nila on a table
she is truly astonished and all the confusion that grasps and holds her back she remains

where she was standing without uttering a single word. Then slowly Nila approaches
Fatima and asks her what she wants to be when she grows up, Fatima gathers the

shambles of courage left inside her and answers the stranger. A smile spreads over Nila’s

face and her red cheeks flush even more with delight. “Well, what if I told you all that