December 12th 2024.
As our country was taken over by the Taliban, my family and I were forced to leave our home in Herat, a city in western Afghanistan. It was a difficult decision, but the mullah, our local Taliban leader, had given an order for us to flee. The mullah was known as The Executioner, and the mere mention of his name struck fear in our hearts. He had turned our beloved football pitch into a place of terror, known as "the pit," where anyone who spoke out against the Taliban would face a death sentence.
The reason for our sudden departure was due to my mother's courageous act of speaking up for women's rights at a local school. In a time where the Taliban had banned women and girls from education and work, my mother dared to call for equality and a better future for her children. Unfortunately, someone had reported her to the Taliban, and now they wanted her dead. So, without any other choice, we left our home, with my mother's safety as our top priority.
Adding to our urgency was my older brother, Hussein, who was born with a rare heart condition. He had already undergone two surgeries in India, and we knew that he needed to be in a country like the UK or US to receive the best medical care. With everything happening so quickly, we sold all our belongings and paid a trafficker to smuggle us out of the country. We waited on the roof of our empty house, fearing that the Taliban would come for us at any moment.
The journey was long and treacherous. We travelled 1,800 miles to Moscow, where we were left in a rundown apartment, waiting for the next leg of our journey. We had no home, no belongings, and no identity. We had to remain hidden as we were in the country illegally, and our only source of entertainment was watching Russian TV on a battered television set.
After six months, we were given the next stage of our journey. We travelled through Ukraine and Poland, sleeping in a barn with animals. Our final destination was Margate in Kent, where we arrived in October 2015 after 18 months of travelling and using all our life savings to pay traffickers. We were exhausted and scared, having faced many dangers and even being robbed at gunpoint.
But the scariest part of the journey was when we had to climb on top of a lorry in Belgium or Holland. As my dad cut a hole in the roof for us to climb inside, the lorry began to move, and I almost fell off. It was a terrifying moment, and I truly felt like my life was slipping away. However, we managed to hold on and continue our journey.
Finally, we arrived in Margate, where everything was new and overwhelming. I didn't know a word of English, and the bustling city was a stark contrast to our quiet life in Herat. Despite the chaos, I was relieved to have reached our destination. My family and I had endured so much, and I had lost all faith in humanity. But we were safe, and that was all that mattered.
We had no other option but to leave our home in Herat, a beautiful city located in western Afghanistan. My uncle whispered to my father, informing him that the mullah had given an order. The mullah, also known as The Executioner, was the leader of the Taliban in our area and we were all terrified of him. He had turned our beloved football pitch into a place of execution, now referred to as "the pit". People would gather there to hear death sentences passed on anyone who dared to speak out against the Taliban. And now, to our horror, it seemed that my mother was on their radar. All because she had given a passionate speech about women's rights at a local school.
My older brother Hussein was born with a rare congenital heart disease and had already undergone two surgeries in India. We knew that a country like the UK or US would provide him with the best quality of life. In 2000, the Taliban had imposed strict restrictions on women and girls, prohibiting them from attending school, studying, working, or even leaving their homes alone. My mother's brave words advocating for equality had caught the attention of the Taliban, and they wanted her dead. So at the ages of 10, 13, 7, and with a heavy heart, we bid farewell to our home and embarked on a journey to an unknown future.
We knew that a country like the UK or US would provide him with the best quality of life. In 2000, the Taliban had imposed strict restrictions on women and girls, prohibiting them from attending school, studying, working, or even leaving their homes alone. My mother's brave words advocating for equality had caught the attention of the Taliban, and they wanted her dead. So at the ages of 10, 13, 7, and with a heavy heart, we bid farewell to our home and embarked on a journey to an unknown future. My brother's health condition added to the urgency of our evacuation.
Our journey was a whirlwind of events. In order to leave the country, we had to sell all of our belongings and pay a trafficker to smuggle us out. We spent our last night on the roof of our empty house, fearing that the Taliban would come for us. In the middle of the night, we said quick goodbyes to our loved ones and climbed into a concealed compartment in the boot of a car. For days, we were cramped and uncomfortable, with only brief restroom breaks. Finally, we arrived in Moscow, where we were left in a rundown apartment to await the next stage of our journey. We were alone, with no home, belongings, or sense of identity.
Our illegal status in Moscow forced us to lay low and be cautious whenever we left the apartment. I distinctly remember watching Russian TV shows on an old TV while we waited. After six months, we received a call instructing us to prepare for the next leg of our journey. From Russia, we traveled to Ukraine, then on to Poland, where we were forced to sleep in a barn with animals. We were given fake passports and managed to board a plane to Austria. From there, we traveled through Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands, and France. It was a treacherous journey, and we were even robbed at gunpoint by traffickers who took advantage of our vulnerable state. But the scariest moment was when my father had to cut a hole in the roof of a lorry and we all climbed inside as it began to move. I was terrified for my life, but thankfully we made it through.
After 18 long months and all of our life savings paid to traffickers, we finally reached Margate in Kent, England in October 2015. We were exhausted, relieved, and scared of what lay ahead. The journey had taken a toll on all of us, physically and emotionally. My faith in humanity had been shattered, and my brother's health had deteriorated even further. But we were grateful to have made it to a safe place where we could start a new life. Despite the challenges and sacrifices we had to make, I believe it was worth it for the chance at a better future. And as I look back on that journey, I am reminded of the resilience and strength of my family.
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