“My parents had just graduated from university when the Soviets...

“My parents had just graduated from university when the Soviets invaded Afghanistan. My father studied physics and my mother studied engineering. But neither of them were able to begin their careers because the fighting had become intense. My father was in danger of being drafted into battle, so they fled across the border into Pakistan. They had four young children, and it wasn’t an easy place to raise a family. Afghan children were not given access to proper education. So eventually my parents decided that something needed to be done. My mother was presented with an opportunity to travel to Canada as a refugee, but she would have to go alone. It was a frightening prospect. She’d never been away from her children before. And our youngest sister was only two, so my mother was terrified that she’d be forgotten. But she was willing to make the sacrifice. Mainly because she believed we’d be reunited after six months. The journey turned out to be much tougher than she imagined. She lived in a women’s shelter when she first arrived in Canada. But thankfully she spoke English, so she was able to work odd jobs and save enough to move into her own apartment. All of her extra money went towards a single long-distance phone call every other week. We’d all gather in our neighbor’s house, and each of us would get a few minutes to speak to our mother. She was struggling with depression at the time. But she told us that after those phone calls, she would be happy again for a few days. It was tough being away from our mother. But our dad never let us feel abandoned. Even though he worked full time, he always cooked our meals, and did our hair, and brought us to school. Finally in April of 1999 my mother was able to sponsor us. It was a three-day journey with many delays. And by the time we landed, my little sister was so tired that my father carried her in his arms. When my mother found us at the airport, she was overcome with emotion. She ran straight to my youngest sister, and asked ‘Do you recognize me?’ Three years had passed. My sister was now five years old. She was shy for a moment, but finally she was able to give a response: ‘Madarem asti,’ she said. ‘You’re my mom.’”