The Uncertainty of That Day Will Haunt Me Forever

My name is Qadria, and I come from Afghanistan. I currently work as an employment case manager at Jewish Vocational Services (JVS). My name has a special significance; my father named me after the 27th night of Ramadan, a night that we Muslims hold in the highest regard. It’s known as Laylat al-Qadr, a night of power and blessing.

I spent the first 20 years of my life in Afghanistan, in the northern part of the country, surrounded by my large family.

It was a bustling household filled with joy, love, and the constant hum of family life. Despite the warmth of my family, I was always more introverted, preferring the company of books over social gatherings. My father dreamed of me becoming a doctor, but life had other plans.

After I got married, I moved to Kabul, the capital, to be with my husband. He worked for the government, and soon after our marriage, his job required us to leave Afghanistan. We lived abroad for some time, returning to Afghanistan periodically. Each time we returned, it felt like coming back to a palace, at least in my heart. My house in Kabul was my sanctuary, a place where I felt safe and at peace.

Our home in Kabul was large, with 25 rooms, a spacious dining area, and a big living room where the entire family would gather for meals. My life in Kabul was a blend of tradition and modernity. While my upbringing in the north was more traditional, my life in Kabul, especially as the wife of a diplomat, exposed me to a different world. I attended ambassador parties, had nannies for my children, and enjoyed the comforts that came with my husband’s position.

Despite the privileges, life wasn’t always easy. I completed my education in Afghanistan, something many girls there are not fortunate enough to do because of family restrictions. I was lucky that my father allowed me to attend college. However, when we moved to South Korea due to my husband’s work, I struggled with the language and couldn’t continue my education as planned. I did, however, become a volunteer teacher, helping other mothers learn English.

Returning to Afghanistan after living abroad was both joyous and stressful. I was happy to be back with my family and friends, especially since I had missed seeing my father before he passed away. I enrolled my children in school and found a job, but the constant fear of violence and insecurity weighed heavily on me. Still, I tried to find happiness in the small moments.

One day, while I was at school with my children, the principal informed us that we needed to leave immediately. The Taliban were advancing, and there was no time to waste. I left the school, trying to find a taxi, but the streets were chaotic. I finally found someone willing to drive me part way home, but I had to walk the rest of the way. The fear in the streets was palpable, and I was terrified for my family. Once I made it home, I struggled to contact my husband due to the failing phone lines.

We decided to leave Afghanistan. The journey out was terrifying. At the airport, we were surrounded by crowds of desperate people, all trying to flee. We spent hours outside, exposed to gunfire and chaos, before we could finally board a flight. The conditions were horrific; we sat on the floor of a military aircraft, far removed from the comforts I had once known.

Our first stop was Qatar, where we were herded into a large, overcrowded hall with no beds and limited food. The heat was unbearable, and the conditions were unsanitary. My son fell seriously ill, and I feared for his life. It was a terrifying experience, but eventually, we were flown to Germany and then to Washington, D.C., before being sent to a military base in Wisconsin.

Life on the base was extremely difficult. The base was designed to accommodate 5,000 people, but it was crammed with 13,000, which meant long lines for food and inadequate supplies. I woke up at 3:30 am just to get in line for breakfast, often waiting hours for just a couple of eggs. The cold weather was brutal, and we had little more than the clothes on our backs. It felt like a prison, and the uncertainty about our future was overwhelming.

After what felt like an eternity, we were sent to Kansas City, Missouri, a place I had never heard of before. The resettlement agency that was supposed to help us offered little support. My husband, despite being a U.S. citizen, couldn’t work for a year because his passport was expired, and he lacked a social security card. During that time,

Despite all the challenges, I am proud of what I have accomplished. I went from being a refugee with nothing to my name to working multiple jobs and supporting my family. I now work as an employment case manager, helping others navigate the same challenges I faced. My dream is to start my own business, providing opportunities for women who, like me, have had to overcome incredible odds. I want to make life easier for them, especially those who have children with special needs and who struggle to understand the educational system.

Through it all, I remain grateful for the opportunity to rebuild my life in the United States. I’m proud that I didn’t give up, and I’m hopeful for the future. I’m also proud that my daughter, unlike many girls in Afghanistan, can go to school and pursue her dreams. I will continue to work hard to ensure that others have the same opportunities, and I will never forget the journey that brought me here.