We were living our life under bombs showering like rain over us. I, Zamaryal, was a child and living with my family in a small village. Next to our house there was an army camp which was the target for the enemies. My father was farming despite the endless fight between the government and opposition groups. One day my mother was running toward the farm and shouting my father’s name “Guldad”. My father was hit with bullets, but no one knew which side targeted him.
The villagers took him to our home. Back then, we were very poor and even could not afford to provide the white cloth (shroud) for my father’s dead body. The villagers decided to bury him with his cloths on, because he was martyred (shaheed). It is believed that Shaheed is not covered with shroud and shall be buried with her/his cloth on.
The war between the government and the enemies increased; the villagers started to leave, and in a short period of time most of the village was evacuated. We didn’t want to leave the village, but my uncles insisted and my mother changed her mind. With deep grieve and tears in her eyes, we headed to Mardan Pakistan.
As my brother and I were growing up, we wanted to work and earn money for family. We decided to work in automobile repair shop with a mechanic from Mardan. He was a kind, well-behaved and a courageous man, and was always giving us a hand. We worked for 10 consecutive years with him, and after that decided to work for ourselves. We were famous and known as the Kabulis among the people.
We’ve worked for 30 years and have never visited our hometown even not for a short time. I got married there and had 4 children. However, my mother was always telling me,” we cannot find peace in this country. This is not our country, and whatever you do, you’ll be still known as a refugee and migrant.” Several years have passed, and my mother got severely sick. Doctors told us to take her back to her hometown so that she could find inner peace.
Finally, we decided to sell everything and return to Afghanistan. We settled in Laghman province and started everything from beginning. Although we don’t have as much as we had in Pakistan, but we are satisfied with our lives, and are at peace. There is no one to call us “refugee” and “Kabuli” anymore.