(WHERE PAST MEETS PRESENT: Razia Jan bridges two rooms at the Zabuli School for Girls, one outfitted with 21^st century technology, the other a testament to Afghan tradition. Here she wipes away tears after one of her students, Madia, 4, speaks to the village elders in perfect English. Photo by Karen Wong)

For two days Razia Jan anticipated the meeting she arranged with the men she calls the Village Elders. The group -- fathers, grandfathers, other senior male family members of students at the Zabuli School for Girls and Women – meet with Razia several times a year, but this time would be different. She had to tell them an American journalist was coming to do a story on the school and she wasn’t sure how they would react.

After greeting the school administrators, some teachers and several girls who tried to suppress charming giggles, Razia went upstairs to the computer classroom where a dozen elders dressed in traditional Afghan clothing were already assembled. The room itself was symbolic of Razia’s mission to bring modern education to girls in a very traditional country. On one side of the large classroom was contemporary furniture, posters extolling the benefits of technology and ten computers with flat screen monitors. The other featured a handwoven Afghan rug in traditional red beneath upholstered wooden couches with a somber portrait of President Hamid Karzai watching all that went on in the room.

The bearded elders with their customary hats, loose fitting white and tan long shirts called kurtas and pants with dark vests and loafers remained stone faced and seated as Razia and Natasha Latief, a friend and women’s rights attorney, entered the room. Administrator Mohammed Zia and Principal Razia Mausaver were also present.

The conversation began in soft-spoken Dari. Not much time passed before a barefoot attendant entered with a tray of steaming cups of green tea.  The conversation continued as the men drank the customary tea and ate light, yellow cake. Their voices became stronger and intense at times. After about 30 minutes, a group of five kindergarten students and their teacher entered the room and walked over to Razia with outstretched arms.  The girls turned to the elders and began speaking in Dari and then in English. The youngest student at the Zabuli School, Madia, not yet four, appeared timid, but spoke with a strong, confident voice.

“I am learning English because English is the international language,” said the girl.

As Madia spoke, tears streamed down Razia’s face, betraying her pride in and love for the little girl -- along with the tremendous heartache she carries for the family. Madia’s father was a respected security guard at the school until a little more than a year ago when he was shot and killed in a family dispute. Madia’s older brother attended the Zabuli Girls’ School last year so he could be in the place where his father worked, Razia recounted earlier. At the conclusion of Madia and her classmates’ demonstration, the elders were clearly moved and gave gentle applause to the students. Some of the men said that these girls knew more than many men.

They called Razia the “Mother of Deh’ Subz.” While Razia has conferred with these men before, she was pleasantly surprised by this one.

“This meeting did surprise me for the men being so positive about everything we do with students at the school,” said Razia.

What started for Razia as a campaign to bring textbooks to the Afghanistan university system turned into the creation of a girls’ school not far from Kabul. The Zabuli School for Girls, the first girls’ school in the historic district of Deh’ Subz, was built on the site of an abandoned boys’ school. Following the Taliban’s rise to power in 1994 after a decade of war with the Soviets, Afghan culture has done its best to keep girls and women illiterate. That changed with the American invasion in 2001. Soon thereafter, schools for girls began to open, including the doors of the Zabuli School for Girls and Women with an initial enrollment of over 100 students in 2008. Since the U.S. announcement that it will pull out of the region in 2014, the Taliban has experienced a resurgence and has closed nearly 500 girls schools in recent months, according to the Afghan Education Ministry.

Today at Razia’s school, there are 355 girls ranging from kindergarten to grade eight with the hope of expansion to grade twelve. Razia was adamant that the school be built with walls and a foundation that could support the eventual addition of a third floor. That expansion was part of her goal in meeting with the village elders.

The men, who weren’t used to discussions with women, embraced the idea of including a high school. One elder said, “You can go to the Ministry of Education and tell them what we need and nothing is done, but Razia comes in and gets this (the school) done.”

Gaining the trust and approval of the men in the community is essential not only to fill the seats in the classroom, but also to ensure the security and longevity of the Zabuli or any girls’ school in conservative Afghanistan.

As Shair Agha, a white bearded elder said, “Razia’s name will be here for thousands of years. Even when Razia is gone, her name will always be part of this school and she will be known as the Mother of Deh’ Subz.”

With the blessings of the elders for expansion, Razia and her Ray of Hope Foundation were left with the ever-present challenge of raising the funds to build, furnish and supply the high school classrooms.  The existing school was built at no cost to the community and all students attend school tuition-free. The Ray of Hope Foundation pays for everything, according to Patti Quigley, executive director of Razia’s Ray of Hope Foundation.

“Ninety percent of donors are individuals from Duxbury, Wellesley and Concord, Massachusetts, as well as Washington, DC, Omaha, Nebraska and Bartlesville, Oklahoma,” said Quigley. “In all these areas, the Rotary Club has been a great point of contact along with Rotary Club International.”

But to add another floor, new textbooks and supplies would take funds Razia doesn’t currently have. Like so many times before, she vowed to find a way, but how?

Then her phone rang with what may be the answer to so many prayers.

To learn more about Razia Jan and her charity, Razia’s Ray of Hope Foundation, please visit raziasrayofhope.org.