Basira Akbarzada

I was lucky. But I am not happy. You cannot really be happy if you are happy alone. 

On August 15, 2021, I was at home with my daughter. She was just four months old. When I first heard about the Taliban regaining power I thought it was fake news. I simply could not believe it. But they came, took away our freedom, and left us with fear. 

I knew some of my neighbours were Taliban. And they knew I had worked for years as a psychologist for international organisations. Even within our neighbourhood I had arranged lawyers for women so they could take legal steps to defend themselves against their violent husbands. In panic I destroyed work documents and hid photos. I no longer left the house unless it was to meet my parents, and I waited for an opportunity to leave the country.  

The first attempt started quickly. Soon after the Taliban entered the city, I received a message from the team at medica mondiale. They were already trying to organise flights for us. We needed to be close to the airport so we would be able to react quickly.  

My husband, my baby and I therefore spent the next two nights at my sister-in-law’s. On our phones we could see reports of what was happening at the airport. Huge numbers of people were crowded at the gates, hoping to find a way out of the country. People were dying in the crush. I thought that would be too dangerous with my baby daughter so we did not even try to get to the airport. Instead, we returned home. Some days I was checking my e-mails every minute, scared of missing a message.

We had no idea what we would do if the evacuation failed.  What future would we have experienced? 

In the night when the last American soldiers left Kabul, I was woken by shots. Panicking, I shook my husband to wake him: “Get up, it’s war.” But it was just the Taliban firing into the air to celebrate the withdrawal of the US troops. I lost hope of being able to flee my country.  

In this difficult phase, the team at medica mondiale kept sending us messages. Every day! “We are with you,” they wrote. “We won’t leave you alone.” I have kept some of these messages. Knowing people were there for us helped me survive that period. 

And they really did not leave us alone. On November 14, my husband, our young daughter and I were able to leave Afghanistan. We spent nine days in Islamabad. Then, on November 25, we landed in Germany, in safety and in freedom.  

It has been difficult starting again whilst constantly thinking about our family in Afghanistan.

I had to find my way around in a foreign culture and learn a new language. Very soon after we arrived we encountered situations where people expected us to speak German. For example, when I had some eye problems the doctor insisted on communicating in German, even though she can speak English and I can, too. I was often sad. 

For one and a half years we lived in refugee accommodation. We were luckier than most, with our own toilet in our room and only having to share a kitchen. But it was still difficult. In the meantime, we have found an apartment of our own. I have completed postgraduate studies at the Frankfurt University of Applied Sciences and joined former colleagues to set up Hami e. V.  “Hami” means “supporter” in Dari. Additionally, I am working as a trainer specialising in trauma counselling. I hope I will soon be able to work in migration counselling.  

However, although I am really happy about being able to make new plans, to walk through the streets alone and safely, and to see my daughter grow up in freedom, I am still thinking of the women and girls in Afghanistan. They were not as lucky as we were. My younger sister was in her final year of medical studies when the Taliban came. She was among the top students in her cohort. Will she ever be able to work as a doctor?  

I wonder whether there might be a possibility for the government in Berlin to allow women and girls to come to Germany? So they can finish their schooling or their studies? So they have a future? 

What are my wishes for the future? I hope to be able to find a job that needs my knowledge and my abilities. I want my daughter to have a brilliant future in Germany. And all women to have a life without violence.