The Broken Circle: A Memoir of Escaping Afghanistan

by Enjeela Ahmadi-Miller

Once in the past, I asked a bird “In what way do you fly in this gravity of wickedness?” She responded, “Love lifts my wings.” —Hafiz

I am one fabric of existence: a tapestry of past and present.

They learned about love from a distance. This is the truest love of all, when two people must wait and build up great ideas about each other until the passion becomes so unbearable and deeply rooted that they must have each other. That is how love becomes the most desirable and lasting.

Yet wasn’t that the greatest part of love, to talk? I imagined they spoke poetry to each other,

He was adamant that a true Muslim didn’t kill other people in order to force their religion on them or hurt other people in a business or personal dispute.

Learning was a part of growing up, and I intended to give a lot of attention to it.

“Education is like eating,” she said. If we weren’t learning, we weren’t growing.

I had gotten so used to the gunfire and thumping of the big guns and explosions, I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

“One cannot exist with a heart torn in half between two loves, two decisions, or two worlds, because it will eventually break in two.”

I had witnessed up close how rude and violent men were determined to force their version of love and safety on others using guns and blood. It didn’t matter what the men called it, political order or religious fervor, it was all from the same place—the hellish dark side of man that is motivated by hate.

Their actions were motivated by hate. Hate is not from God. People who use religion to hate can’t love God. It is impossible.

Those dreary days in Kabul before we escaped, I witnessed Padar being stripped of more than his possessions: his deepest dignity. It was no excuse for his drinking, but I understood better now how he had let those demons take over.

An even deeper mystery I wrestled with was that I believed we existed in the hands of God. He evidently carries us with a light touch. He does not clench his fist around us and force any of us to hate or love—these are choices.

Pray Somewhere in this world— Something good will happen.

‘This place where you are right now, God circled on a map for you.’”

Once in the past, I asked a bird “In what way do you fly in this gravity of wickedness?” She responded, “Love lifts my wings.”

“What you see is what love looks like. They can touch each other, yet they don’t irritate or enrage each other. All throughout the world, love speaks to us, what it means to cherish and be kind and to respect each other. If we miss the message, we will get lost. We will lose out on what’s important.”

The images of the mothers and daughters in the mountains of Afghanistan grieving the death of sons and husbands had soaked into my being. Tragedy was the only memory I had of so many women in Afghanistan. These visits delighted me, to see women enjoying their lives in a peaceful city. All of them had so much to look forward to. Life was different here, and I was beginning to enjoy being part of it.

I understood how hard it would be to start a new life, how we would have to make sacrifices for one another to prosper in a new land with a new language, and I envisioned the things we could achieve if we worked hard, trusted and looked out for one another, and kept moving forward. That was all in my future, and my past had prepared me.