Hawa had never known the simple joy of playing with friends at school. In Afghanistan, where the weight of conflict and oppression loomed heavy, the mere idea of learning, of exploring, of running free with other children was a distant dream. Her days were spent within the confines of her home, where safety and freedom were a delicate balancing act. She’d often sit by the window, watching the sun dip behind the mountains, imagining a world beyond her reach. Her father, a quiet man with his own dreams long buried, would sit by her, sharing whispered stories of a hopeful future—a future he was never certain she would see. For years, he held onto a faint glimmer of hope that one day, his daughter might experience the world as a curious child, unburdened and free.

In July 2024, after a treacherous journey and months of uncertainty, Hawa’s family arrived in Albania, their lives forever changed. For the first time, Hawa felt something new—a feeling she had only ever imagined—hope. The family was met with kindness from strangers, a warmth they hadn’t known in a very long time. Albania, with its unfamiliar landscapes and new faces, was a world apart from the one they left behind. Hawa’s father often spoke of his gratitude, his voice thick with emotion as he shared their experience. “Since the day we arrived, I felt something shift. It was as if we had finally found a place where dreams might come true,” he whispered, marveling at the newfound safety surrounding them.

Their journey took another hopeful turn when they were introduced to the YWCA’s Day Care Center. For Hawa, this was her first glimpse of a school—a place filled with children, laughter, and the colorful hum of a space designed just for her. Hawa’s father watched as she entered the classroom, her hand clenched in his, her eyes wide and uncertain. Slowly, she began her journey of learning and growth. The teachers, gentle and patient, understood the weight of her past. They knew that Hawa needed more than lessons—she needed compassion, security, and a belief in her own worth. They encouraged her with gentle words, inviting her to explore her surroundings, to engage with other children, and to trust that she was safe here. They encouraged her to laugh, to share her stories, and to find joy in the smallest of things.

Days turned into weeks, and Hawa’s transformation was unmistakable. Her once quiet, withdrawn demeanor began to soften. She started to join in group activities, her voice timid at first, growing louder as she gained confidence. She learned to draw, creating pictures filled with bright colors and shapes that spoke of her newfound joy. Her father marveled at the changes he saw in her. “She has become so smart and kind,” he said, his voice choked with pride. “Her ability to form relationships, to smile, to feel confident—it’s a gift I never thought possible. I see a future for her now, something bright and beautiful.”

In time, Hawa grew close to the other children, forming friendships that brought out a side of her that neither she nor her family knew existed. Each new activity they shared—whether painting, singing, or storytelling—deepened her bond with her peers. She began to trust her teachers, to feel that she truly belonged. Her love for learning flourished as she participated in daily lessons, showing a natural curiosity that thrilled her family. Her father watched her with awe, a feeling of joy interwoven with every small step she took. “In Afghanistan,” he explained, “our children were denied a future. They were denied their own potential. But here, in Albania, I see them stepping toward it. And that means everything to me.”

For Hawa, this small but powerful transformation marked the beginning of a brighter path. She no longer simply attended daycare; she embraced it, exploring each lesson with joy, each new word she learned a stepping stone toward a life unburdened by fear. Her teachers, too, saw her transformation and celebrated each milestone, knowing they were helping to shape not just a student, but a young girl who would grow to change the world around her.

YWCA’s Day Care Center became the cornerstone of Hawa’s newfound happiness. Her father, once hesitant to believe in the power of change, spoke openly about his gratitude, often moved to tears by the journey his daughter was making. “This place is more than just education,” he shared with other parents. “It’s the beginning of a life I never dared to hope for. Hawa, who had once been confined to a world of fear, is now learning to fly.” He often found himself smiling, thinking about how his daughter, once shadowed by uncertainty, now looked to the future with bright, hopeful eyes.

And for Hawa, the future that had once seemed shrouded in darkness now looked undeniably bright. She was, at her core, still the same curious, resilient girl who had once dreamed by the window. But now, she had been given wings. She had a community, friends, and the freedom to explore her potential. At the heart of this journey was Hawa, a little girl whose spirit and intelligence had finally been set free. The path before her was unknown, but it was lined with endless possibilities.

This story of resilience and transformation stands as a testament to the power of safe spaces, of nurturing environments that honor the potential within every child. The project “Day Care Centers as Safe and Creative Spaces” has offered a fresh start not only for Hawa but for countless other children who are beginning to see the world through new eyes.

And as her father put it best, “Here, Hawa isn’t just surviving. She’s thriving. She’s growing. She’s free.”

 

This story was written as part of the project “Day Care Centers as safe and creative spaces”, implemented by UNICEF Albania with the support of the US Government and in partnership with YWCA of Albania.