The story of a refugee

Hi there! I am Dunya and in this blog I will tell you about my life as a refugee. I wish you good luck reading my story!

I was only 7 years old when we came to the Netherlands. It was in the year 1998 to be precicely. My parents, my brother, me and my little brother escaped from Afghanistan. We had no choice but to escape from the war. The war with the Taliban. The Taliban was our biggest enemy. They killed innocent men, women and elder ones. In the name of God they used excuses to harm the Afghans. The women were not save anymore. Especially on the streets. As a woman you could not go outside alone. You had to be married or have a brother or father to go outside. Women who had no brother or a father had a very hard life. They could not work outside. If they could not work, there was no money earning. So alot of people were poor. 

Thanks to the Taliban my parents decided to escape from their once so beloved country. Both my parents had and still have trauma. Trauma because their brother or sister or a close one was killed by the Taliban. They saw it happening in front of them. I remember my mother talking about how her relatives got killed by them. I just can not believe I was born in a country with so many cruelty! I find it very brave that both my parents can talk about the past. Eventough it is not easy for them. 

Hearing these stories about the Taliban makes me happy to be living in The Netherlands. I remember the first day we came to The Netherlands. The Dutch people were so nice to us! They have welcomed us warm and accepted us as refugees. They said we could stay here. This was a wonderful moment for us. 

To make the journey to The Netherlands, my parents have sold everything they had. They sold their house, their jewelrey etc. I am very thankful for what my parents did for us. Selling everything you have just to see your kids grow in peace. I think every parent will do that for their kids. The question is just, will they succeed too? 

As welcomed refugees, we felt as one of the Dutch. We felt accepted, loved, cared. My brothers and I had no war anxiety. Thank God! We were born and bred in Afghanistan, but we remember nothing from Afghanistan. We feel us more European than Afghan. Sometimes I wish I remembered something from the country I was born in. But watching the news about Afghanistan removes that thought from me. Watching the news about the Taliban, makes me happy living far away from them. 

It was a big thing to live in The Netherlands as refugees. We did not know the language, did not know their culture, nothing actually. Especially for my parents it was tough. They left everything and sold everything they had just to start all over again. It was hard for them to learn to speak Dutch, to write Dutch or to learn their culture. The Afghan culture looks nothing like the Dutch culture. In the Afghan culture we have so many rules while the Dutch culture is very easy to understand. 

Besides that, we are muslims too. We follow the religion of Islam. The Dutch are Christians but very openminded. In the beginning we saw alot of differences. Times made it easier for us. The longer we stayed in The Netherlands, the more we got to know the culture, the language etc. We liked living in here. 

For my brothers and me it was very easy to speak Dutch, to learn their habits, culture etc. We made friends and were loved by our neighbours, at school etc. 

I liked to study as hard as I could. I wanted to become a doctor and helpt the kids of Afghanistan. That was a dream of me. To help one day the children of Afghanistan. To mean something to the people of Afghanistan (since that country has less doctors). My whole life I was trying to get high notes at school. 

I was very different compared to my big brother. He was more trying to be the cool guy of the school. He did not care about his notes. Atleast not as much as I did. We have alot of differences. He is in more ways different than me. But that is okay. The world would be boring if everyone was the same!

My other brother is 1,5 years younger than me. People always thought we were twins. 1e He looks alot like me, 2e. He was in the same class as I was. The day we came to The Netherlands, school decided to have us two in one class. This, because my Dutch was not perfect at that time. So my little brother and I start being class buddies. 

Until highschool. There we both went to different classes. 

To be continued..


Published by Dunyas Kitchen

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