Dullah

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.