Yesterday one of the refugees from Afghanistan finally told me his story. It is just one of thousands of stories, but this is the story of my friend.
He welcomed me into his tent and I finally got to meet all of his family. His wife apologized that they had nothing to offer me, like tea. They have 3 handsome sons, 13-11- and 9 and a precious 2 year old daughter who I confirmed is the family treasure. He told me that her name in Farsi means “to shine”. And boy does she ever. I met his wife and he told me all about their love story. How they met when she was 14 and waited anxiously to wed. He said she used to “shine” too but the environments they’ve been living in have taken her glow away.
“She is my deep love and my life. The light of my world.” He beamed while gazing at her lovingly.
He showed me pictures of their home in Afghanistan and their garden, a video of him playing piano and singing with a friend. He proudly spoke of how his oldest son never received less than an A in school and each of his children knew how to count and say a few phrases in English.
He explained how he was a medical doctor in Afghanistan and involved in DNA research and showed me more photos of their lab. He was also a member of their National Board of Medicine and beamed once more over photos of the induction ceremony for their laboratory.
And then he began to tell me why they have come here.
“We left behind everything. “
He explained that a few years ago a friends of theirs passed away. When they were gathering for his funeral some discussions arose as they often do in groups of educated men.
You see, a few years ago around this time a young girl where they lived had spoken out about how she did not believe some things in the Quran. So Islamic radicals in their area burned her alive. She was 16. After her whole body had been burned they proceeded to run over it with a car.
So in this discussion my friend spoke out about how wrong and awful he thought that was, how no one deserved that nor the right to do it. He spoke out on a few other things he did not agree with concerning Islam amidst the conversation.
A few weeks later he received a summons from the ruling government stating that he was to appear before the Islamic leaders and explain why he had spoken out against Islam.
“You see, Islam is not a choice there… It is obligatory” he explained.
“You never truly love something under force”, I said. “The things you believe should ultimately be your choice and come from your heart.”
“It is forced though!” he said, “and from the government. As medicine and science move forward, their thinking stays in the past.”
So when he refused to appear he began to receive death threats. Threatening letters were placed in his car and at his home.
So they left. One could say, escaped.
“Now the future is uncertain for us though. My wife keeps asking me, what if they deport us back? Then what will happen?”
“Now because of this deal between Turkey and the E.U. we cannot stay here. We have nothing left.”
At this I began to cry. We are supposed to try and keep it together when we are in camp but how could I look into my friend’s eyes and the eyes of his wife and sweet children and not be overcome with emotion?
“Oh don’t cry…” he said as I looked at my lap.
” I just wish there was something more I could do. Some way I could help! Have you applied for asylum here in Greece?” I said, still staring at the floor.
When I looked up I realized there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Tears streamed from his red eyes and those of his wife and the neighboring family there with us. And as we sat in that tent and cried together the weight of uncertainty and fear of the future sat with us.
Then he said, “If they send us back, it would be better for us to drown in the ocean here…”
The sobering reality of their situation hung in the air as he went on to tell me about the peaceful welcome he orchestrated for all the Afghan people in camp to present when the Pope arrived. He wrote a poem for peace and taught the Afghani children to sing it. A plea for solidarity and love for their people.
“We just want a better life, a safer life for our children. For the little ones and for our families” he went on.
He has posted pictures from the Pope’s visit online. He even has one of Pope Francis placing his hand on his daughter’s head.
And already he receives comments that he is an “infidel”.
So now they sit here in Moria, detained and awaiting news of their fate.
Each night at 9:00 pm he translates a bible study led by one of the volunteers for anyone who wants to come.
Last night when I attended with his daughter curled up in my lap, there were about 14 muslim men sitting alongside me.
“Everyone should have the right to study and learn and decide what is best for them” he explained.
And I smiled as I imagined what seeds the Lord will be planting there.
When the time came and I had to leave, I hugged them and told them how much I longed for everyone at home to know them like I do, to see how much love, intelligence, culture, and joy they have to give. That I would tell them so.
Because this is not just their story, this is the life of my friend.
