THE SEPARATION FROM MY FAMILY IS THE HARDEST PART

I am from Afghanistan and I want to share the story of my journey from my beloved home country to the U.S.

I was living in Balkh province, northwest of Kabul. I never would imagine that one day the Taliban could take the control of Mazar-e-Sharif, the capital city of Balkh province and the regional hub of northern Afghanistan. However, the security situation rapidly got severe in every province last year when the U.S. forces withdrew from Afghanistan following 20 years of war. Every day we would hear that districts are falling into the hands of Taliban fighters.

We knew that the circle of safety from the Taliban was getting smaller day by day, but the pace at which events were happening was unprecedented. I will never forget the first night in early August 2021, when we were awakened by the horror of gun shots. It was so close to our house that we thought it was on our street. For almost two weeks, this happened every night. One night an object shattered the glass of our windows and frightened our family. My mother would tell us to not be frightened but could not hide the fear in her eyes. Finally, the Taliban invaded our area, and Kabul collapsed, too.

I do not know why I was hopeful that the Taliban would be different than it was 20 years ago. An indirect and informal campaign on social media had tried to establish that the Taliban had changed over the years. However, our experience showed that was not the case at all — instead it had become more violent and extremist. I left my country in September — and my mother, three brothers and three sisters behind.

I was studying engineering at Balkh University, but the Taliban did not let me to continue my education. It was not a choice I would have made to migrate but rather it was the way to escape the brutality of the Taliban regime.

No one wants to leave his or her own country unless he or she has been made to do so. I have to admit that it was the most difficult decision I have ever made in my life. Before coming to the U.S., I had never been separated from my family. Imagine someone who has never traveled alone and never been away from family suddenly moving thousands of miles from home.

I stayed in Qatar for two months, and I looked at the sky every night, wishing to go back to my home country again. Every moment I waited for a miracle that the Taliban might disappear from the country so that I could go back to Afghanistan. Then, when I finally arrived in the U.S., I felt both hopeless and helpless because I was so far from Afghanistan. The fact that I might never be able to go back brought tears to my eyes several times.

In the U.S., I stayed in Virginia for two and a half months. Then, after my documents were processed, I came to California to start a new life.

The evacuation process was very challenging for me. The psychological pain and burden I carried during the process cannot be relayed by words. None of it has been easy: not being away from my family, staying in evacuation camps in Abu Dhabi in the United Arab Emirates and in Virginia, adjusting to the U.S. or finding housing here.

My problem started from day one in Doha, the capital of Qatar. I was a single teen without my family. I have had the same issue in Virginia. Here in San Diego, I am struggling with issues such as transportation. I cannot work at a far destination due to this problem. Another issue is the cost of living, especially the cost of rent. Of course, many people in the U.S. have helped me during the process, and I am thankful to every one of them and to the U.S. government. Had I not been helped by the U.S. government, I do not know what the Taliban would have done to me and my family in Afghanistan. I am also thankful for the African Alliance, a local resettlement affiliate, which helped me find an apartment in El Cajon and figure out how to go back to school.

I speak basic English and I am currently taking intermediate level English as a second language courses. I can communicate a little with my classmates and my case workers, but the culture is different and sometimes I feel alone because I cannot connect with people. Everyone is nice, but I don’t have friends or my family here. I miss my university friends and classmates so much.

My only hope is my family now. My mother and six siblings are in an Abu Dhabi camp, and I am counting the days until we see each other, and begging officials and authorities involved in the process to bring them to the U.S. as soon as possible.