At 13, Courage for an Afghan Girl's Lifetime

It will take a tissue or two but read this young girl's story to share with others who need a story of courage to carry on.

clipped from awwproject.wordpress.com Walking, One Hand at a Time When I was nine months old, I had a fever and my family took me to a doctor. The doctor gave me a shot and the next morning my legs would not support me. I had polio. My family did not have money for follow-up treatment. When I was nine years old, I lost my grandmother. When my family and I were at my grandmother’s house for her funeral, suddenly my aunt pointed at me and said, “Why didn’t she die instead? She cannot walk and is of no use. Why hasn’t she died instead?” I was thirteen years old when I went to the Red Cross. I was in the cast for six months. It was difficult, but I continued to go to school and became first in my class. I may have three more surgeries in the coming three years so that I can walk better and better. This is my life story. But this is not the end. Wait for the end!