Sajjad's story

Introduction

Sajjad, the young man you all met the last night we spent together, our barbeque-chef who provided us with tasty food, has given me his story. Though many of you might feel that the project is over, I feel the opposite: it has just begun! Stories like what you are about to hear from Sajjad gives me an important perspective about life itself, many times depending on where you are born. It motivates me to work even harder to understand, to participate in the integration process. This is his story, told especially for you working with Without Barriers.

A high price for a new life

My childhood in Afghanistan was stolen from me when I was just 10 years old. At this age I witnessed that they shot and killed my father. Who “they” were, I don’t know, but later I’ve been told that they did it because they wanted our property, our money. More than 20 years have passed, but I still see it, I have it in my head, my body, it fills me entirely! Since that time I’ve seen dead people many times, and I’ve been close to getting killed several times myself.

My mother became a widow much too young. She was left alone with me as the “head of family”, a child, and also there were my siblings of 2 and 3 years. Life is not easy for women in my country, especially not if they do not have a husband or other men to look after them. My mother had only me, and I was a child. We managed to cross the border to Iran, thanks to savings and good connections. In Iran life was somewhat better, and I could continue school. I have always been smart, and school was easy for me. I got good grades, and was accepted at the university. But I never started my studies to become a dentist, I had to flee the country to help my mother economically.

Since I come from Afghanistan, I did not have a passport. I therefore had to flee Iran illegally. I went over the border to Turkey, but I was not alone. We were many, all young men crossing the border without papers. It was hard and cold, very cold. We went over the mountains, and all I had was my trousers and a T-shirt. In the mountains there was wind and snow, freezing cold. For almost a week we had no food, but could not rest. All night we were walking, and all day we had to hide under big stones so the Turkish helicopters should not see us.

The way we went was covered with minefields. The Turks did not want anyone to cross the border illegally; therefore they patrolled it with men with machine guns and helicopters. I saw many men get shot, and corpses who had lost their lives long ago were also witnesses on the road to my freedom.

Not only the crossing over the Turkish border was hard, also the crossing over to Yugoslavia where they also shot at us. Many people had lost their lives here too. My trip continued towards Austria. To do this, I had to cross a river. The boat I sat in, a small rowboat, went around, and all of us fell into the cold water. To survive, we had to undress at the shore and run. That is when they caught me; naked and afraid. My fingerprints were taken in Austria, at the police station. I never applied for asylum there, but those fingerprints have given me a lot of problems later. That is why the Norwegian government spent years and years to give me my permit to stay, to settle in a new country. Finally, after many years!

I remember happy days, before I was 10. I was a child, I played with other children, I remember family members laughing, having big parties. I remember my mother working as a teacher, my father was a doctor. Both had nice jobs which they were proud of, and we had a nice home. But that was before I reached the age of 10… My life has been tough, and I feel like I have wasted the 9 last years of my life. So much I’ve been through, so much paperwork, so much waiting. All I ever wanted was to continue my life, get an education and a job so I could help my dear ones.

There are many, many more out there who have experienced worse things than me. We are survivors, but we pay a high price to live – because memories cannot be wiped out easily. Bente told me to write down my experiences, to write a book about it. Maybe one day I will, I need to do it, only then I can have peace in mind.

Epilogue: The language is “the hands and feet” – without them you are lost

When I first met Sajjad at our school, I saw a positive and always smiling, young man. He told me that he wanted to find work, to settle down and start his life here in Kongsberg. He had great respect for the Norwegian way of working, and admitted that the Norwegian language was important to find work. “The language is the hands and feet, if you don’t have it, you cannot function”, he said. When I asked him what kind of work he wanted, he answered that he was open for all options.

I contacted a friend of mine who runs a food store in town. He was willing to meet Sajjad and give him a try in the shop. To make a long story short; Sajjad is the best worker they ever have had, and he is about to get a permanent job with good career opportunities. I wish him the best of luck in the future – and I will never forget his story!