Do you remember what you were doing around the age
of three or four? Dig deep. Try and recall. Chances are, the memories this
evokes will be those of sweet childhood, the kind romanticized about in films,
or at least some of them will be. The fact that so many of us fail to realize,
is that memories such as these, lives like ours, are the exception and not
rule. Be it blessed, luck, divine intention, or complete randomness, so much of
the world basks in a fundamentally different light. Knowing that is not a
burden. It is a gift. This knowledge of the fortune you possess, through
whatever means you want to chalk it up to, is enlightening, and thus
understanding the means from which so many others, far less materialistically
wealthy, have made their way in this world will hopefully expand your sense of
compassion, your sense of harmony with the idea that regardless of circumstance
and that from which we come, we are all one. We are one human race, and the time
to not only see this, but to feel it is now.
This time, let’s start at the end and circle back to
the beginning. Life is short and it is amazing what can be accomplished in
twenty-three short, and yet ever so long, years. When Dullah, formally known as
Mohamadullah, was three he was fleeing his childhood home of Kabul, Afghanistan
as a refugee. Twenty years later he is living in the suburbs of Atlanta, GA
with the majority of his family. He has received his BA from American
University and embarked upon the path of a successful career working for a
company with whom he sees a bright future.
Dullah’s story begins with wisdom gained through
twenty-three years of life filled with peril and struggle, familial love and
support, and the key component of limitless faith in that which is greater than
oneself.
“My
parents have been the biggest supporters of everything I have done. They always
tried to be there for me. They sacrificed everything so I could get the
opportunity that I have. It
was because of them, I could never quit. I could never take a break from school
or from work. They never quit. They never complained to me how hard it was for
them. That was the biggest motivation for me. And something that my parents and
religion taught me was to always be thankful for what you have and strive for
more. Never feel sorry for yourself or give yourself excuse.
Every
time I envision my future, it’s with my family. I don’t focus too much on what
I am doing as a professional, I just envision that I am doing well enough to be
able to be with my family and do the things that I want to do.
I
have never been proud of myself. I think the day that I will be proud is the
day that I can do everything for my parents. In the meantime, I try to grow every
single day. Grow as a son, as a brother and as a friend.
I
try to work hard for my future, but the present is more important. Making people happy now and giving to those
in need NOW is more important than
saying, “I will do it when I am more successful or when I have more money or
possessions.”
I am going to let Dullah tell the majority of this
story, as it is his, and so much more powerful coming from the source itself.
“I
was born in Kabul, the 7th out of 8 children. I was only 3 years old when my
family moved to Ghorband , Afghanistan, a small village in the north, because
the Taliban invaded Kabul. I remember arriving at the village feeling as though
I had found heaven. The image I have in my mind is still that of the most
beautiful place: a two story house right next to a big river and a farm in
between the mountains. It was paradise.
But
my paradise did not last very long. It was a day like any other day; the kids
were playing in the water, the men farming and the women cooking (not being
sexist, just stating facts). That’s when we heard gunshots, rockets, and
explosions. The Taliban was coming.
For
many days we were not allowed to go outside and the only food we consumed was
potatoes. The gunshots and explosions were endless. Taliban were on one
mountain and the group fighting them was on the other. We were trapped in the middle.
One
day all of the people in the village, who were mostly my extended family, came
together and decided that we all must go north where the Taliban had not yet
taken control. So that is what we did.
It
was a windy night when we decided to leave on foot. Everyone was carrying their
most essential belongings, mainly clothing and food. We continued to walk for
some time when all of a sudden, someone started shooting with an AK47 right in
front of us. A man ran down the mountain and told us that we couldn’t go north
because the Taliban were up ahead on our path.
We
came together as a family and collectively decided we would try again later
that night. But we would have to be quiet enough not to be discovered. There
were a lot of families. When it was time for the second attempt, my father
decided that he did not want to go north anymore. He wanted us to go back to
Kabul instead. Everyone tried to
convince him that he was wrong - he was sending his family into sure death. But
he had made up his mind, and sometimes the only way forward is to go back. He felt
Kabul would be a better option. I guess you could say it was a gut feeling.
We
walked four days and nights over endless mountains. I experienced some things I
could never forget: seeing and hearing gun shots non-stop, being stopped by
random people with guns, and not knowing who they were and what they wanted. It
was a chaotic time, where everyone owned a gun and everyone abused their power.
We eventually reached Kabul.
We
later found out that our family members [who we parted ways with when deciding
to come back to Kabul] that went north were forced to hide in another village.
The villagers knew that my family was Shia Muslim though, so they notified the
Taliban. The Taliban gathered all of the males, grown-ups and children,
blind-folded and killed them. They did not even let the women bury the men.
We
were grateful for having made it back to Kabul alive, but the living conditions
we had to endure were extremely difficult; there was no freedom, no jobs, and
no food. After living in Kabul for a few more months we moved to Pakistan. In
Pakistan, I was not able to go to school because we were illegal refugees, and
in order to support my family I had to work. I did many things: made rugs, sold
plastic bags, vegetables and even tea. But doing that wasn’t easy. We were
always chased down by the police in the Bazaar; they would take our belongings
and beat us in an attempt to stop us from working in there.
I
woke up at eight every morning and worked until seven or eight at night. In
addition, three nights a week, my brothers and I would go back to the Bazaar at
1 am to collect card boards that store owners threw out. We sold them as recycling.
Out
of all the work I did, selling tea was by far my favorite. Believe it or not,
that one actually helped me the most in college. When talking to a girl I
liked, I always started with the question, “Do you like tea?” If the answer was
yes, I would brag about my tea and offer to make it for her sometime. If the answer was a no, I would say, “That’s
because you have never had MY tea.” Since I graduated college single, part of
me wonders if I was ever actually any good!
We
lived in Pakistan for seven years, until I was ten or eleven years old. In 2005
we came to the US as refugees. I came without any prior education. I didn’t
know my native alphabet or how to count in English. I attended the International Community School
where I learned how to communicate in English. After a year my math and English
levels were tested. I vividly remember I was at a second grade reading and third
grade math level when I was supposed to be at a seventh grade level. Coming to the
US was extremely difficult. We didn’t know the language, we didn’t have any
money and we were given three months of rent and then after that we had to pay
for everything.
[The
apartment complex we lived in when first resettling in the US had its
challenges].The neighbors next door were drug dealers. One
day there was gun fire from automatic rifle. I looked outside from the window
and saw a man trying to hide under a red car. My dad told us to get away from
the window. Thirty minutes later, police
knocked on our door and came to check if everyone was okay. [That was when we
realized] bullets had come into our computer room. One man died and several were injured.
Another
time, I heard a gunshot while I was napping after school. I looked outside the
window and saw two men holding a gun at
some guys inside a car. One male came out of the car bleeding from his left
shoulder blade. We found out later that the man who was shot died in a restaurant
across the street.
[Fast
forward to high school] come ninth grade, I was finally caught up to the reading
and math level. I was lucky enough to attend Atlanta International School (AIS)
on a scholarship. But that did come with the realization that the ninth grade
math and reading level I was on was for the state of Georgia levels, NOT the
AIS ninth grade levels. I was behind, so I had to work even harder than I ever
had before academically.
My
time at AIS was truly an amazing experience. Even though most of the students
had completely different childhood experiences and different backgrounds than
me, I never felt like I didn’t belong.
Many
people tell me, I am a very hard working person. But I think I just have been
extremely lucky to have people and organizations [and schools] like AIS that
have given me the opportunity to grow and achieve my goals.
[Following
high school I received a scholarship to American University in D.C. that
covered 100% of my tuition fees. That still left cost of living expenses
though.]College was an amazing experience, although extremely stressful because
I was working different jobs, such as serving at a Mexican restaurant,
coaching, and working as a student staff at the university.”
Dullah graduated from AU in May of 2017, and after
securing a stable job, the first thing he did was go out and buy his dad a car.
It was not just any car, but the one his dad had always wanted-a Toyota RAV 4.
This is the kind of human being Dullah is. One
filled with humility and honor, perseverance and drive, and his greatest goals
have and always will be to provide for others, and to live a life worthy of God
and calling himself a Muslim.
I know this, because I was in that fifth grade
classroom on his first day of school in the US. As the Teaching Assistance, I had
left the classroom to grab something from the office, and upon my return took
my seat on the floor in morning circle. It was then that I saw a young boy with
big brown eyes and perhaps the brightest smile I have ever seen, looking
straight at me. That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship; one that
continues today. Knowing this boy, now man, has been one of the great honors of
my life. Knowing people with stories, but more importantly, spirits like his, is
the greatest honor of all.
