6 minute read
Afghan Refugee Doctor Dares Women and Girls to Dream
Marie-Claude Poirie
Two decades ago, Saleema Rehman was one of only a handful of refugee girls attending classes at the Barakat Primary School in the city of Attock, west of Pakistan’s capital, Islamabad. Now, at the age of 29, she is standing before a class of about 30 young refugee girls at her old school, dressed in a white doctor’s coat. “Which one of you wants to be a doctor?” she asked with a smile. Dozens of hands shoot into the air. “It is great that you want to become doctors. Study harder, and never give up,” she told them. Saleema has been following that advice since she was a small child, and her family began calling her “Doctor Saleema.” The nickname was a reference to her difficult birth in a refugee camp in Swabi in Pakistan’s Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province. Saleema’s mother struggled to get medical assistance, and Saleema was not expected to survive.
Her father, Abdul, swore to himself that if the infant lived, he would make sure that he or she received an education and became a doctor. Despite facing criticism from his community, he stayed true to that promise and supported his daughter through years of schooling. Many among them frowned upon the idea of a girl having aspirations outside the home and marriage. “In the early days, I was often the only girl on school benches,” Saleema recalled. “I remember how my community disapproved of my father’s decision to send a girl to school. That’s when I began to understand how important it was to make something of myself, set an example and dare young girls in my community to dream.” Saleema fulfilled her lifelong dream earlier this year when she opened a private clinic in Attock to serve refugees and local women who struggle to access affordable health care. It was the culmination of years of studying and dedication that involved more than just overcoming cultural norms. Her status as a refugee also threw up obstacles.
“As a child, I was not aware of my refugee status,” she said. “But I came to know about it when my classmates were getting admitted to colleges of higher education, and I was not because I’m a refugee.” Saleema kept applying for two years until she obtained the only seat reserved annually for a refugee to study medicine in Pakistan’s Punjab province. She later specialized in gynecology after being selected for a residency at Rawalpindi’s Holy Family Hospital, also in Punjab. In 2020, the last year of Saleema’s training as a gynecologist, Holy Family Hospital was declared a COVID-19 response hospital, and she found herself on the frontlines of the pandemic, treating women with the virus who were giving birth. Many of her patients were refugees and locals who had contracted the virus because they relied on daily wage work outside the home and could not afford to isolate themselves. Saleema’s dream of opening a private practice to offer free care to those most in need in her community again came up against her status as a refugee. Since obtaining her first degree in medicine in early 2015, she had not been able to obtain a medical license, but her determination eventually paid off. “I applied again and again to get the license,” she said. “I got [it] in January 2021 after years of my medical education and training to become a specialized doctor. It was like a turning point in my life.”
She opened the clinic in Attock in June of this year, and she now sees many refugee patients who would otherwise have had to travel long distances to the nearest hospital and be accompanied by someone who could interpret for them. “The opening of this clinic was a very happy event for us,” exclaimed Anila, one of Saleema’s Afghan refugee patients. “Many Afghans cannot afford expensive clinics, but Doctor Saleema is helping us. It would be good if more of our girls would study and become doctors.” At her clinic, Saleema is also promoting hygiene practices and dispelling myths about the COVID-19 vaccine. This year, she welcomed the Government of Pakistan’s efforts to include refugees in its COVID-19 vaccination campaign as she believes no one is safe from the virus until everyone is safe. “I want to prove that a girl can be anything,” Saleema said.
Today, Saleema’s story and work are bringing change. Some of the staunchest opponents of girls’ education in her community call Saleema to seek health advice for their wives, sisters and daughters. Many now send their daughters to school in the hope that they might follow in her footsteps. “She’s a trailblazer. She’s beaten the odds by becoming the first female doctor in her community. By achieving her dream of offering health care to the most vulnerable—refugees and Pakistanis alike—Saleema is a living testament to how women can contribute to the socio-economic development of their communities,” said Noriko Yoshida, UNHCR’s Representative in Pakistan. For her outstanding service and commitment towards her community and some of the poorest people in Pakistan, Saleema has been chosen as the regional winner for Asia for UNHCR’s Nansen Refugee Award. This prestigious annual prize honours those who have gone to extraordinary lengths to help forcibly displaced or stateless people. The Award recognizes the powerful example Saleema has set for other women and girls and her dedication towards her patients, including during the COVID-19 pandemic. “I want to prove that a girl can be anything if provided with opportunities,” said Saleema. “Whether I am in Pakistan or anywhere else, I want to serve humanity with my whole heart.”
This story first appeared on the global website of UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency
Reaching Teens Where They Are with Look Good Feel Better
Being a teen is a complex time marked by many new challenges: your body is changing, you are figuring out who you are growing into, and you might even find yourself with some newfound independence from your parents. Now imagine a cancer diagnosis on top of all that. Sofia Tomassini was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at age 14. Along with the taxing medical treatments, Sofia found the changes to her appearance challenging. “In my school there was even more pressure to look a certain way: all the girls have long hair; all the boys have short hair. That was the only thing that scared me—losing my hair. That was a big thing for me. It was okay to have short hair. It was a choice I could control,” says Sofia. She learned about the Look Good Feel Better teen workshop from her medical team. As the only national organization dedicated to helping women and teens facing cancer manage the appearance-related impact of treatment, the Look Good Feel Better Teen Workshop is a source of comfort, community, and inspiration for teens as they manage through this difficult time.
“Cancer can be isolating for anyone, but especially for teenagers, as it isn’t a common experience among their peer group.” says Susan Larkin, VP of Programs with LGFB. “The LGFB workshop provides valuable information, such as skincare, sun safety, and makeup hygiene, but most importantly, it offers a place where teens can meet others facing a similar experience. More often than not, the group ends up laughing, sharing, supporting each other, and just having fun.”
While typically offered in person, the workshops moved online during the pandemic. “The teens adapted so easily—they are just used to being part of a virtual community.” says Susan. “And teens facing cancer is a relatively small population size, so by offering the workshops online, we are able to bring together young people that may otherwise be feeling very isolated.”
Sofia’s advice for other teens diagnosed with cancer is not to think, “‘why me?’ Instead, think about, ‘I’m going to be done with this! I’m going to beat this!’” This holiday season, you can help even more teens facing cancer through Look Good Feel Better. Mary Kay Cosmetics Ltd. will match all individual gifts made until December 31st, doubling your impact. Because no teen should go through cancer alone.
