I did not want this (2)

The following is a memoir of my life which would be published in some series. 

On the way to Pakistan, I witnessed too many insults and cruelties to Hazaras. Being a Hazara was an unforgivable crime. Our nose was the matter of joke, our dialect was harshly satirized, and our culture, conduct and everything related to us were subject to insult and sarcasm. Finally, we passed the Chaman border of Pakistan by paying the dealers as we were Hazaras, though for the rest of Afghans, there was an open border no need of identity or else. We stayed in Quetta for some days and my companions were fooled by human traffickers and asked me to go to Iran. I hated Iran as I had heard numerous shocking stories about Iranian government conduct with Afghan refugees. Eventually, they were about to move toward Taftan border between Iran and Pakistan. I was just so frustrated and desperate.  If only I had had Rs.200; I would have gone to Karachi and would have saved those wasted years in Iran working as underemployed laborer. Sometimes, a life can be saved or shaped only by Rs.200.

so, we should value the money as the best asset of life. Without this piece of paper, man has no peace, no value and no dignity! It is an advice for me to save money and spend it in a wise manner. Anyhow, I implored them to lend me only Rs.200 and I would pay them twice when I find it. They treated me so badly and they did not know what I was thinking about. My immigration was only for quest of my unfinished education not for fun or work. I had no way other than to accompany them. We stayed in border for two weeks and were hearing disappointing news from revert of refugees.  After such a long delay with no proper food and accommodation, we marched toward the border. In a dark night, we topped to Taftan desert which was full of pitfalls and wells to trap the refugees while entering Iran during the night. I got cold on the way as it was the first month of the winter and I did not have proper cloths. I was coughing without any stop. It took us 11 days to reach to Tehran. On the first night in Tehran, I was healed and my coughing stopped. After few days of mediation, a fellow found me a job in basement digging of a building in Tajrish. The first day of my work was the longest day in my life. The foundation was too hard and my hands were blown till night. For one week, I went through a hell. I was so collapsed and depressed. I found myself an ordinary worker. The kid with great ambitions and visions was then laboring for survival. He was receiving too autocratic orders from the owners of the work and had no choice other than to accept and say yes sir.

Three years in Iran passed like a jail period. I was not like other workers to get used to circumstances prevailed work environment for Afghans. I was obsessed with being treated as a condemned. I have nothing worthy of mentioning from Iran; just briefly can mention that it was a trauma to my life. I learnt nothing there; instead I lost three best years of my youth  which could have made me a different person if invested on studying and education.

I was just aimlessly working only to survive that 9/11 incident happened. I became so happy and was following the news through all printing media. Something good was happening in Afghanistan. Taliban were refusing to surrender Bin Landen to U.S.A. and that country was preparing for a war. It was the hope for everyone like me to see the Taliban wiped out from every corner of Afghanistan. It took only months that USA plan and dismantle Taliban. While I was watching the transition of power in Kabul, I was weeping. I was so impatiently waiting for the moment to leave the land of sorrow and pain and go back home and start a new life; certainly getting back on track of education. As it was the only option for me to make myself a different person. Finally the time came to leave Iran. When I entered Afghan border, I felt so excited and wept. I saw the soldiers a hundred meters away drilling, lots of refugees returning and the signs of hope and vivacity clearly perceived.

This time I chose to stay in Kabul rather going to Mazar-e- Sharif. The day I got off the car in Quti Sangi, I found Kabul like the ghost city totally ruined. There was less houses and shelters available and the returnees were flushing to Kabul both from Iran and Pakistan. This city was rapidly transforming. Unfortunately, it was a dark city for years in the beginning of the interim and transitional administrations. Yet, some parts are in dark due to discrimination imposed by officials. I had less saving from Iran and it was slipping out of my pocket in Hotels. There was no one in Kabul to give me a room so I was sleeping on the harsh wooden bed covered only with a plaid. I could sustain in hotels only for three months. Then my money finished. I shifted to a friend’s room in Karte Parwan. He was working with Ministry of Planning. He was getting only Afs.3000/ per month and had no better situation than me. After one month, I had no choice to find a temporary job. A friend who was the head of a guest house funded by one of the parties offered me a job to work as a servant there. I accepted. I worked one month and was just puzzled what to do if I could not find any way out to continue my education.

 One day I was roaming around a bookstore, an acquaintance from Daikundi came across me and asked if I would work in a project with them. We went to an organization in afternoon and I found out myself amongst some Americans who were discussing a group work in English. No one of the visitors knew noticeable English. There was no translator either. When they were talking I was easily catching what they were saying. Little by little, I joined them and helped them to communicate to each other. Gradually they received me very well. After some practical work in the field, my work was chosen as sample and two fellows who helped me to find this job, were declined. The Emergency Loya Jirga coincided with our project which was supposed to cover entire Afghanistan. We were on standby. Luckily, Loya Jirga yielded result and our work got started. I was assigned to survey Urozgan province where I was from. The door of opportunity became unlocked. I conducted a survey for a month and made around $1300. It was enough that time for some years to pursue my education. I submitted my report and cleared all the accounts and voraciously ran after books and courses. These all happened so dramatically. I thought it was a mercy of God as I deeply pleaded him for such an opening while I was flaming the stove for making tea in the early morning at the guest house.

I disconnected all the lines of communication to everyone and everywhere unnecessary and set my schedule too tight and mechanical: going to bed no later than 9 pm and waking up at 3 am, studying till 7, then breakfast and heading to library, staying till noon, having lunch outside, then going back to library till 4, then joining classes one after another and coming back to room around 8 and sleeping at 9. I did this because I felt so back myself due to years of gaps in my education. I wanted to compensate all wasted years. It really worked out, but I did not know that I would fall in disease such as sinusitis due to carelessness. I mostly was headache because the room where I was living in did not have adequate air and the place I was living was very dirty and dusty. After some years, I found out some symptoms of chronic headache, nose blockage and fatigue. However, I was not giving up and resisting against any malfunctioning of my body. I was just thinking how to bridge all the gaps that I faced in my education.