“Who are these people?” you may ask. Well they’re the highlight of my time on Lesvos. The man on my right is my friend, Mustafa. His wife, daughter, brother-in-laws, and sister are also in the picture. His two year old nephew is off playing outside the frame. They’re all from Farah, in southern Afghanistan. Mustafa and his family are Farsi.
Okay so lets get into why this family means so much to me. I met Mustafa at our camp by Sykimia. It was during an odd lull in activity in the afternoon. The entire camp was empty of refugees. Then Mustafa and his family walk in an post up in the corner of the big tent.
Now my job at the camp was rounding up people and sending them to the buses. If I just sent this one family, they’d be sitting on the bus for potentially hours. Better to allow them some rest and to get a change of clothes while there isn’t a rush.
So I begin talking to this family with incredibly broken Persian-English mix. Through much pointing and acting out, I was able to begin a game of backgammon with Mustafa. Thankfully, an interpreter came over to help so I could ask questions beyond “How’re you?” Mustafa began to tell me his tale.
Mustafa is from Farah and is Fars, one of the five ethnic groups in Afghanistan. His mother and father were killed by the Taliban when he was 15. He was left to raise himself and his younger sister. It was after this event he met his future wife. Her parents were also killed by Taliban hit squads.
Fast forward to the present. Mustafa has just turned 22. His wife is very pregnant. The baby is due within the next month. His sister has also married and has a two year old son. He also looks after his wife’s 15 year old brother. Being the oldest he is the head of this young family.
The Taliban pays him a visit and threatens him.
What would you do in his shoes? That’s right. You pack what you can and make for Germany. You put 6,000 kilometers between the Taliban and those you love. Also as a father and husband, you go to where employment is to provide for yours.
I had the rare opportunity to meet Mustafa and his family. For that I am grateful. I had the even rarer opportunity to pray for Mustafa and his family and testify for Christ. For that I am tearing up in all the emotions.
Before the race, living in America, I was scared by the refugee crisis. I was scared about ISIS threats and honestly a small part of me was scared of the Middle East culture. Now whenever I look at refugees I see Mustafa. It hits me deep that the same God that died for my Sin also died for Mustafa’s. Its one thing to know that Christ has died for others but it is somewhat different to know a person Christ died for. That’s all! Enjoy these pics!
Mustafa, his wife’s brother, and our backgammon game.
Mustafa and his newborn daughter. She is 20 days old in this picture. They’d been travelling for 23 days. You do the math. Dang son. Also just look at the love for her on his face. The Father looks at you just like that.
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Thanks for reading! I am currently 3,000 away from my final deadline in December. So if you’d like to support me in this and meeting other Mustafa’s that’d be just swell and greatly appreciated. Just click the “Support Me!” tab on my blogs home page. Thanks again.
P.S. Mustafa also gave me this wicked black afghan scarf.
