By Hamid Ebrahimkhil
April-June 2000
Lemar-Aftaab
DAYS in America went by, each bringing its own range of sorrow and happiness and leaving different memories in my heart.
Some were times of cruelty, pain, and heartbreak. Other days were bright, exciting, and beautiful because my family and I finally lived together in one
happy home.
I had not seen my father for six years; he had left Afghanistan and came to the United States to provide his family with a better life and give
his children opportunities that he knew they would never get by staying in Afghanistan.
My father had dreams and ambitions; he wanted his family to live a comfortable life and have food to eat. Not being able to see him and spend
time with him was difficult. As a child I remember longing for just one day to go to the park with him, or even just one hug.
When the day finally came to go to America, I remember having to say goodbye to my cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends whom I had known all
my life. Tears of pain ran down my face because I felt as though my heart was being cut in half. I was not ready to leave my loved ones.
Mixed with these were tears of joy because I was finally going to see my father. When my father left me, I was only four, and now I was ten.
Although he had missed much of my childhood, I knew how much I would need a father in the upcoming years, and I was extremely excited to have him back in
my life. I wanted him to take me fishing on a nice sunny day, to a soccer game on a hot day and to console me when I was depressed.
After a day of traveling and being exhausted, we finally arrived in America. As soon as we entered the US, we were faced with problems.
Not being able to comprehend English was very difficult. We were stopped by the immigration in the airport to fill out some forms. Feeling so nervous and
not knowing what to do, my family and I used sign language to communicate with the officers. We felt like we were blind and deaf, using our hands
to get our message across.
However, we eventually managed to finish up all the exhausting customs and immigration formalities, and we finally came out of the airport.
I remember when I first saw my father. It was a very emotional time; we cried, laughed and tried to make up for the time that we had been apart. A few days
later we were enrolled in a nearby school. My father dropped me off, and I was left to face the new situation that I was now a part of.
I was very confused, and did not know what to say to teachers or students. An intense feeling of awkwardness made me wish I had never come to this country.
One of the teachers took me to my class. I was introduced to my new daytime companions.
They stared at me like people looking at an animal in the zoo and talked in a weird language in which I thought I was being cursed. They pointed at me. I felt like I was not wanted.
I went and sat down in my assigned seat and tried to stay calm, but the more I tried to keep my composure, the more nervous I became. I started feeling lonely
and helpless. I wanted to communicate, but my tongue was not able to speak.
I had so many things to say, but I did not know how to put them into words that others could understand. I could not express anything to these
people except to indicate "yes" or "no" by nodding or shaking my head.
At long last, the seemingly endless first day at school had ended. I came home. That night in bed, I lay there tearfully, wondering what I had done to deserve
such a punishment. I futilely looked back at my life to find some sort of justification. I ended up crying myself to sleep, my thoughts lost in tears and dreams.
When morning arrived, I felt like I was being forced to go to hell again. I said goodbye to my parents and went to school with a heavy heart. As soon as I
entered my classroom, I tried not to do anything to attract any kind of attention to myself.
Time passed, minutes seemed like hours, and hours seemed like days. I wanted to get out of this place, but at the same time, I wanted to learn. Finally
the teacher took attendance. When she called my name, I was pleased that at last I would actually be able to do something right.
I stood up to indicate my presence, as I had been taught to do in Afghanistan. In Afghanistan one stands up after their name is called and sits down when they are
told to do so. It's a way to show respect and to be polite.
While I was standing up, everyone looked at me as though I was an idiot, wondering why I was standing. I felt frustrated, not
understanding why their culture was so different from ours, even in the smallest aspects. The teacher finally told me to sit down.
The giggles from my classmates rang in my ears, which were burning with embarrassment. I felt ashamed and humiliated, but I
fought back the urge to burst into tears.
Somehow, as months passed, I got used to the new environment. I learned a few phrases of English, and I made up some of my own. I
would add Dari and Pashtu words into English to make it understandable, which of course made it even more confusing for my puzzled American classmates.
Still, as time went by, my English became increasingly fluent, and that unlocked the key to excelling in other subjects as well. I gradually
became able to quench my own thirst for knowledge and education, and my grades reflected that as well.
I recall the time not long ago when I was inducted into the Honor Society, with my mother hugging me and crying as she
thanked God. For her, it was nothing short of a miracle that her son, who once could only communicate his most basic ideas with sign language,
was now on the Honor society.
I hope that this is only the beginning of what I can do with my education. I intend to go on to a university, where I am planning on majoring in Biochemistry
and from there on, to a medical school. The way I see it, if I really try hard, I can achieve the dreams that I have for my family and myself.
Today, as a sixteen year old Afghan, I look back to what I have been through in life. My experiences have taught me a great deal about life and
its hardships. Life may not always be easy, but those who want to succeed in it must constantly strive for success, never giving up no matter how
insurmountable the odds may seem.
Moving to this country forced me to overcome numerous obstacles, during which I went through a lot of emotional suffering. However, America has given me many
opportunities to make the best of myself. I intend to take advantage of them to the fullest.
Living in a foreign country can be extremely difficult at times, but even this has had the positive benefit of teaching me to love my native
land, Afghanistan. To me, every step of the way, I am enabling myself to go back one day and help it recover and regain its rightful place in the world community.
I cannot overemphasize my love for Afghanistan, and my desire to return there one day and be reunited with my homeland.
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