‘PLEASE DON’T CRY YOUR WHOLE LIFE’
Roya Shams, who fled to Canada from Afghanistan, thanks a special group of Toronto children for their words of inspiration,
At the back of Room 10-S in Woburn Junior Public School, students have a collage they call their tree of heroes. Roya Shams’ name is on it.
The 9- to 12-year-olds in the Scarborough school’s special-education class — they need help with reading and math — have followed the Afghan schoolgirl’s story since she came to Canada to go to school. Threats from the Taliban, who killed her father, made education too risky in Kandahar.
The children sold samosas at lunch hour and raised $307 that they donated to Roya’s education fund. They sent her letters and tucked them in a backpack with pink peace signs.
She cried when she read what they’d written and asked — insisted really — to meet them. It was as if they had known what was in her heart, she says.
Their letters showed unusual understanding and empathy. Most of their families have known hardship — they immigrated to Canada from Sri Lanka, Afghanistan, Guyana and Russia. “They wrote with lots of energy and love and warmth,” says Roya, who recently turned 19. “I felt inspired by them. They supported my dream and had their own dreams.”
“There are some bad guys — they want to kill you and your family,” 12-year-old Vithushan Jeyaratnam wrote. “I want you to be safe and I will trust that someone will take care of you. I trust you, Roya, please, please don’t cry for your whole life.”
Dmitri Mikhailov,12, wrote: “When I grow up I want to be a Canadian soldier because I want to go to Afghanistan to give peace.”
Roya fled to Canada in January 2012, with the help of the Toronto Star and Star readers. She now goes to Ottawa’s Ashbury College, which has awarded a bursary to cover tuition and residence fees. She spent Friday morning with the kids from Woburn.
“When you have something inside you believe in, you stand up.” ROYA SHAMS STUDENT
Their teacher, Liz Hellreich, said Roya has been an important part of her students’ lives for almost two years. Roya said their letters helped her “keep going.”
It took almost no time to bond. They started with formal greetings and thanks; they ended up singing and dancing, waving their arms together to “Party Rock.” When the Tamil tune “Soi Soi” came on, Roya said: “I know this song!”
The kids prepared questions on cue cards. Some looked down, some looked her in the eye. Some had clear voices, others whispered. “Do you still want to be a politician?” asked Anthony Donovan-Williams, 11. “Yes.” “Do you like to sing and dance?” “I’m kind of dramatic.” Dmitri Mikhailov asked about her schooling in Afghanistan. “I’ve had some hard times because of my poor education,” she said. “How do you feel with no war?” “Everyone is welcome, no one is hiding, no one is trying to attack you.” Roya’s school in Kandahar was firebombed. The Taliban killed her father, a police commander, in a gunfight in 2011. The militants vow to wipe out her family. Her oldest brother, a trauma surgeon, bears the scars of a grenade attack last February. There were shattering moments, too, in the small classroom, that showed life is hard for some Canadian children, too. Roya asked one of the girls what she would like be when she grows up. The girl lowered her head and said, “Nothing, really.” “But you can!” Roya said. “We can all be something.” Some probed Roya’s strong and confident personality. Shambave Niruoopan, 12, asked, “How did you stand up for yourself?” “When you have something inside you believe in, you stand up. My father never gave up on me. I think he is the one who is pushing me.” Gryffin Nanibush, 10, asked her about coming to Canada on a plane. “The welcome and support, that makes home. Canada is home.” How did it feel wearing a burqa? “I often had a headache.” Hellreich, a special-education teacher, introduced Roya to the children as a human interest and current events story, something compelling to encourage them to read. War and displacement has disrupted education for many of the children and their families. Roya’s story became part of their learning. The children read the book The Breadwinner, by Canadian writer Deborah Ellis, about an Afghan girl who cuts her hair and poses as a boy to support her family under harsh Taliban rule. Then they learned about Roya’s story and how difficult it was for girls in Afghanistan to go to school. It became a lesson in fiction/non-fiction.
When they decided to sell samosas to help with her schooling, there were more lessons — purchase and profit, data collection, order and delivery.
“It didn’t matter how young you were or how poor you were, you could make a difference,” Hellreich says. As for Roya, she said, “Heroes teach us so much, not to give up.”
By the end of the morning, they’d looked at the scrapbook the class kept about Roya, eaten samosas and pineapple and almost everyone — even shy Pakyam Pilendrarajah — had sung or danced for her. They group-hugged. She signed autographs. She accepted drawings the children’s siblings had made.
Oh, they wanted to know: Did she like the backpack they gave her?
She did. It wasn’t just the pack, she added. “It was the love included.”