My story starts with my birth as a female on April the third 1986 in Kabul, Afghanistan. I do not remember that day with all its emotional and moving moments, as might be expected, but I can still feel the warmth, love and care of that day through the story and I am pretty certain that I must have instinctively felt their desire to nurture and raise me.
I heard the story many times and it always made me smile visualizing those happy moments. The only down side of that day was the absence of my grandfather who had recently passed away and the cloud of financial trouble that loomed on my parent’s head.
But that did not stop them from feeling the indescribable happiness that comes together with seeing and holding your child for the first time.
My mother told me that I was born a few hours after midnight and she still remembers that the weather was very cold because my father caught a bad cold while sleeping outside on a bench near the hospital waiting to hear the news. I jokingly apologized for causing so much trouble to my family upon hearing the story.
It affected me to imagine how my mother struggled through the process of delivering me and how my father in his eagerness and anxiety to see us after many hours of waiting, run towards us as the doctor's rushed me and her out of the operating room.
I smiled when I pictured my father jumping up and down of happiness and felt touched to know that my birth gave them an immense joy and that holding me in their arms, while looking at my little baby face and kissing my pink cheeks, was one of the happiest moments in their lives.
At that moment, when she first held me for the first time, my mother knew her life had changed forever and that she as a person would never be the same again.
She told me how she felt empty inside knowing I wasn't there anymore and the realization of that scared her emotionally. But it was nevertheless a very passionate and breathtaking moment as she started crying and praying to God to bless me, stay with me and lead me through to the right path in life where I would have happiness, health and a good name.
This might sound like a very simple thing to ask from God on the day of my birth but it actually is very meaningful when you think of how hard life was for Afghan women at that particular time. The culture, tradition and religion impacted the life of every female within the country.
As I grew up and learned more about those aspects that comprise the Afghan identity I also came to appreciate her request more and more especially I realized that a good name symbolizes a warm heart, a good personality, respect to others, friendliness, open-mindedness a caring, humble attitude, a successful career and a feeling of self fulfillment, then the seemingly simple prayer suddenly starts sounding very significant and important.
I still remember the first day I went to school in September 1991. I was very anxious, eager and nervous while standing outside in the line waiting for our teacher to come out and walk us to the classroom. Those feelings were very obvious on my face as my mother also recalls that day.
The day symbolized a huge step towards growing up for me and I had no idea what to expect when going back home. It was as if I felt then clearly that with my education came responsibilities and as I kept looking behind me to ensure my mother was there I must have unconsciously tried to clinch towards that part of my life where everything was clear, innocent and easy.
Aside from that, the first day of my schooling was also scarier since I only spoke Farsi and had to rely on my brother Rudy to translate to the teacher that I did not speak English but that he will be in a classroom nearby if I needed anything.
The language barrier caused problems almost instantly. I only understood a little bit of English and could not make sense of what the teacher, despite her very warm and welcoming attitude, was trying to tell me. The frustration and embarrassment that I felt right then was very strong since I could not tolerate the idea that I could not communicate my needs and thoughts.
It made me feel a little bit helpless and as time passed my impatience grew.
I felt hungry and I still recall how much I wanted to use the restroom but was afraid to raise my hand and not be able to put it in words. I decided to wait but suddenly couldn't hold it any longer and jumped up running through the hall to my brother's class where I knew I would find a person who would understand me.
All the uncomfortable feelings came out as I grabbed his hand while crying out loud begging him to take me to the toilets. Even if we were able to solve the issue and agreed with my teacher to just use my index finger if I needed to leave again, the incident is still marked in my memory as it signified how hard it is to feel like an outsider.
The event led to my teacher calling my mother over to school to discuss my situation with her which was a problem since her English was limited as mine and therefore Rudy's services as a translator were summoned again.
I was lucky in that I went to a primary school that was multi-lingual considering its diverse students from places as China, India, Columbia and Afghanistan/Iran. Therefore there were teachers who spoke those languages and helped the children to learn English. I was placed with a lady from my country and the process of learning English in a bilingual class was both easier and with less pressure.
The experience of mixing with students with so many diverse backgrounds was also very educating and enjoyable and within that atmosphere I was able to develop my language skills within the short time of half a year.
I started loosening up and school was no more a source of worry once I was able to feel more as an insider by understanding what both my teachers and classmates were saying. I am still glad I had someone from Afghanistan who was there to help me and thanks to her I started loving school.
My mother played an important role in my education. She made a habit of picking me and my brother up every day after school whether it was cold, rainy, snowy or sunny.
She also put strict rules at home and we were not allowed for whatever reason to miss doing our homework. She also took us on almost a daily basis to the library where we would all sit around this big table to do our exercises while she watched us and made sure we finished everything.
I have a lot of fond memories of those days. I feel proud recalling how, on one of those days when I could not understand my assignment, my mother pushed me to go and ask for help from a few girls sitting nearby. I went and came back again just to get stuck in the same assignment a few minutes later.
My mom tried persuading me to go again but I refused feeling embarrassed. It was then she went over and did it for me not caring that she would come over as ignorant. I felt warm inside right then knowing that she would go as far as required for us which she continued to do over the years that followed.
Our uncles initially helped us with school but their methods were disliked by my mother who then decided to hire a professional teacher. Her name was Shanhen and she was originally from Pakistan and helped me and my brother for about two years with our home work. This made me feel like working hard both at school as well as during those tutoring sessions and before I knew it my first year was over and summer had arrived.
It might have been summer but that did not mean that studying was over. My mother stipulated that we would study at least an hour a day and write at least one page about what we had learned while making sure to note down at the minimum five new words a day. That's how summer came to be a busy time.
We helped around the house and headed to the library to get books that were relevant to our next grade while avoiding comics or material with too many pictures. My mother had very strict rules indeed on what we had to do to excel in our academic life. It was all planned. After that we would sit down for lunch read what we brought and finish it of by writing a one page essay about it.
We spent the rest of our days usually in the park or with family since my mom's opinion about that was very clear and simple:" family is very important".
She simply made sure our days were filled with chores and assignments whether with books or around the house. My elder and middle brother (Rudy and Robbie) took care of cleaning the bathroom and bedrooms while my little brother and I (Jimmy and Shahira) took care of the living room and kitchen. That is how we came to learn to be both responsible and ordered.
My second school year was easier since my language skills had developed and I had no longer a hard time making friends. Besides I liked helping people around and my social skills were hence praised by my teacher. Everybody thought that I had a great potential and that made my mother very proud something I found out about through the way she would treat me to a pizza ever last day I got my report cards from school.
My elementary school years flew by. I have still many memories of those days though. For instance I know that that Mr. Solanos was my favorite teacher since he made learning a fun activity and included many plays and shows during his class.
But my other teachers like Miss Gilbert were nice too. The relaxed atmosphere made me enjoy school and I kept up with that throughout. I was eager to learn, enjoyed reading, worked hard with my tutor, did my homework and was very serious about being the best simply because my mother kept repeating that the quality of my work would reflect how well of my life would be later on.
I believed that and everything else that my mother said because I took pride in making her feel good and considered her my best friend as she was always the first person to hear about what had happened to me during the day. I finished elementary school in 1998 and couldn't wait to start the next phase of my life. Learning and working hard for the future had become a very important part of my personality.
Middle school meant more development. It signaled a new phase and I had no idea what to expect since everything was going to be new and unfamiliar. I was nervous and hoped that I would be able to make friends as easily as I did before and enjoy learning as much as I did with my elementary school teachers.
I was going to attend Junior High School 189 while most of my friends and brother went to other schools like I.S 237 for different reasons. The day started with the usual speech by the Chairman in the Homeroom where all students were asked to gather before spreading out to their classes.
The first period ended quickly and though I saw a few familiar faces I found out that I didn't have class with them. Suddenly I saw the cousin of my mother's neighbor's friend whom I met before and whose name was Habiba Rhami. I felt relieved and started talking to her and got to know her friends.
Like my elementary school Junior High was also very diverse ethnically and I was amazed at the number of different groups I saw. It also made me nervous since I didn't really know how my friends would react if I went to talk to other groups and at the same time I had been used to establishing friendships with people from other backgrounds. My friend Lilly Ho was Korean.
I still recall how my friends started talking when I left to talk to her but I chose to ignore it. There was a girl who sarcastically said upon my return that I did not know where I belong. This made everybody laugh, Clearly the lines were drawn and everybody chose to isolate themselves to the group of their ethnic origin.
I replied that I did belong to every group because I felt everybody was the same and stood up to leave. That was true; I had become so used to being social with everyone that I did not stop anymore to reflect on how different our backgrounds are. My attitude was treated with respect after that incident. I am not saying that my school was racial but everybody felt more comfortable within a group that was closest to their religion, traditions and culture.
I, on the other hand, was more interested in knowing other cultures and opening my mind up. So I continued diversifying in with whom I had lunch every day. Sometimes I would sit with the nerd group, sometimes with the popular group and sometimes with the quiet group. Living in such a diverse society definitely helped me in opening up as a person.
I found it fascinating to learn so many different things from so many different people. No particular group could understand why I kept swinging between them all but the simple truth was that I wasn't looking for one thing; I enjoyed the experience of learning and not only within the classroom. It had a huge impact on my learning process.
Being from Afghanistan means belonging to an identity that has a long history of certain traditions and norms. My mother did not approve of me spending too much time outside of school with my friends, Therefore I was always the odd one out whenever everybody decided to go to the movies. I never attended any birthday parties and visiting friends at home was out of the question.
I did not disobey since I always considered that what my mom thought best was best and she did not act this way out of mistrust towards me but she had a hard time trusting anyone else. Trust had never come naturally for her and this attitude made my life as a result harder since everybody stopped inviting me after a while. My memories of Junior High are nevertheless very good.
I learned a lot about friendship and problem solving methods and worked hard to get the best grades something my mother heard whenever she attended the parent-children conferences. I also devoted more time to work at home and leaned how to cook starting from seventh grade. I was a lively person who could spend hours cooking or talking on the phone with friends and at other times read for long times in the library. I had outdoor hobbies too.
I enjoyed playing basketball or roller-skating. It were great days were my family still got regularly together.
The only scary memory I had of that period is my scoliosis operation. My doctor found out during one of my visits at his office that my seating position wasn't normal and that an operation was necessary to fix my spinal cord. Everybody was scared but it turned out well enough.
Junior High ended and High school started. I went to Flushing High School in 2001. It was September and I was in the tenth grade. I remember hesitating before walking in as I suddenly had to think of a famous Afghan saying: The first foot you enter with will specify whether you will be walking in good luck and therefore everything in your destiny will happen according to the will of God.
I felt reluctant about entering as I did not know which foot to step with first. Nobody believed in it anymore but I was still taking minutes to think of which foot to put down first. My culture certainly had left a huge impact on me despite me growing up in America.
My friend passing by started making jokes about me and I had to pull her aside to explain to her my action which she thought very committed and impressive while another friend listening thought it superstitious. I disagreed though knowing I could not change anybody's believes.
Like my Junior High, High school was comprised of many different ethnic groups which I thought fascinating to observe. We had to introduce ourselves and before I knew class was over and it was time for my next class: math which had never been my favorite subject so I was glad to recognize a familiar face to study with.
Again, the level of enthusiasm and motivation in me was high. Three days after we started, a day I still recall vividly, on September 11, and during my math class my teacher of another subject marched in and I heard him whisper something about the Twin Towers.
I could not hear much so I turned to my friend and it was then I saw the smoke that made me scream. Everybody looked through the window and started yelling and running out of the door in one direction. My teacher tried to calm us in vain.
Everybody was watching the Towers come down in horror on TV and we stayed in the school since everybody was scared about leaving. i felt extremely worried thinking about my family within the city. We left a while later in the bus to go home and the results of the attack were immediately obvious when a fight broke out against an Indian guy wearing a turban.
The level of antagonism had risen almost immediately against anything perceived or thought of as Islamic. It was without doubt the scariest day of my life and that of my family. Nobody could bring it up to eat anything. It was as if we had senses life would forever be different for us after that day.
And life was different for us from then on simply because Americans had become very suspicious of Islam and not much longer Afghanistan was invaded in a war against terror.
This made me realize that I might have wanted to work hard before to make my life and that of my family easier, now it was a harder struggle to prove myself within a society that had come to doubt me and my identity and link it to one of the darkest days in the history of the USA.
