I stumbled over my words, to tell the truth. I welcomed Razia home, and her home is Afghanistan. Razia Jan’s heart and soul is the Zabuli School for girls in Deh Subz, Afghanistan, on the outskirts of Kabul. Her job, on the other hand, is to work as a program director for Arzu Rugs, a not-for-profit group that supports local rug weaving in Afghanistan while providing required educational and health services to the weavers and their families.

But Razia came home to Duxbury for the Ramadan Dinner offered by the Duxbury Interfaith Council and the Muslim Families of Duxbury last Sunday evening.  After she spoke, I felt less confused.

“It’s like seeing a friend from college after twenty years,” she said. “After a few seconds, you feel like you have never been apart. That’s how it is for me to be here in Duxbury again. You all make me feel so at home, you are so gracious to me.”

Razia’s whirlwind three-day visit was consumed by her preparations for the dinner. Baklava – I’ve never tasted better – and a full spread of Afghan foods rich with love, yogurt, savory spices and more love helped an audience of 150 break the day’s fast. Muslims observe the month of Ramadan by fasting during daylight hours and feasting (in a reasonable way) with family and friends after dark.

Izhar Kazmi sung the Azan, the call to prayer in Arabic, and announced that the fast could be broken. While hungry guests scarfed up the traditional treats already at their tables, the Muslims proceeded to the easterly corner of the room to quietly complete their evening prayers, led by Suheil Laher, Izhar’s son-in-law.

Suheil serves as the Imam, the Muslim Chaplain at MIT in Cambridge. He’s also a doctoral student in Arabic and Islamic Studies at Harvard.

“And he is one who knows the Qur’an by heart,” explained his proud father-in-law. Such people are known by the title “Hafiz Qur’an,” literally, “guardian of the Qur’an.” A woman would be called a “Hafiza.”

Suheil gave a brief and clear explanation of the main tenets of Islam, the so-called “Five Pillars,” and finished by explaining that many of the problems regarding women and women’s rights have nothing to do with Islam or the Qur’an, but are errors stemming from various cultures. Often the Qur’an and the life of the Prophet Mohammed stand directly opposed to such abuses, abuses that once ran unchecked in the world. So Razia’s work is well supported by Islam.

“The men from the village, and the boys’ madrassa across the street tell me that men are the future of Afghanistan,” Razia said. “I tell them, ‘No. Women are your eyes. Without us, you are blind! And then we help them with their school, with whatever they need.’”

Thus, Zabuli School for girls lives through each day in a place where anything can happen, as it did one day for Khodaija, a girl who wanted to go to school. She attended briefly, but was then blocked by her family. She is an orphan, now raised by an uncle who pulled her from the school.

Razia’s film about the school showed the moment when her aunt consented to Khodaija’s return to school, and showed us the look in the girl’s eyes when she said, “Here they support me. In this school, I have a mother and father again.”

You can still help support the Zabuli School for girls by sending a donation to Razia’s Ray of Hope Foundation (Patti Quigley, Executive Director), P.O. Box 81052, Wellesley, MA 02481, or call 781-431-7894. You can be a glimmer of hope, a ray shining in the eyes of Afghanistan.