Afghanistan Peace CampaignAfghanistan Analysts Network
I’m from the Kishenda district in Balkh province. Seven years ago, I left for Iran with my family because I couldn’t find work in Afghanistan. I have an 11-year-old daughter and two sons – one is seven and the other is four, both born in Iran. We settled in the Javadiyeh area of Tehran. It has a reputation for being dangerous. But in reality, it’s just a down-on-its-heels neighbourhood where many Afghan families live because housing is affordable and the landlords aren’t picky about who they rent to, as long as they get the rent on time. Luckily, I’m an expert welder. It’s an in-demand profession and it was easy for me to pick up welding jobs on construction sites. I worked hard and made decent money. We were also able to get temporary residence permits called bargeh-ye sarshomari [census registration document]. It wasn’t long before I’d saved enough money for a down payment on a house – about USD 3,600. I got an informal mortgage from the man who owned the property and we bought our own house. This was the home we left behind when the bombs started falling from the sky in Tehran.
When it rains bombs
Life was good. I had steady work and the two children who were old enough were going to school. Everything had already changed, just weeks before the war, when we were given an ikhraji [deportation order] and told to leave Iran and return to Afghanistan. I went to the office and told the government that I owned a house and needed to settle my financial affairs before I could leave. The officer there agreed to give me time to sort things out. But the tensions between Israel and Iran escalated and finally Israel started bombing Iran. I thought it would stop soon – like when there are brief flare-ups between Afghanistan and Pakistan, and after a few airstrikes or missiles, they stop. But this was different; it went on for days, and it was still ongoing when we left.
Israel was targeting Javadiyeh, where we lived, because there’s a military base nearby. Our home shook from the blasts and we were worried that the windows would shatter and injure us or our children. They were afraid all the time and my younger son wouldn’t stop crying. So, we ended up sleeping outside in an open field near the house every night. Ultimately, we made the difficult decision to return to our country. We hoped things would settle down quickly, but after a week, when there was no end in sight and there was even talk of America getting involved, we decided to go back to Afghanistan.
Leaving our home behind
I asked the man who held our mortgage if he’d buy the house back and give us our money. But he said he didn’t have the money. He was shaken, worried about what the war meant for his family – and for Iran’s future. He was sympathetic to my situation, but he looked up at the sky and said: “How can I get the money when missiles are raining down from the sky?” He wished us good luck on our journey and said we could come back if and when the war ended to settle things with him. Luckily, I had my savings at home and we’d invested in some gold that my wife and daughter could wear as jewellery. We left everything else behind – our home, our belongings – and escaped with just our savings, the clothes on our backs and our lives.”
From Tehran to Islam Qala
It took us three days to get to the urdugah [camp for returnees] in Mashhad. People who are going back to Afghanistan go there to register before being sent home. The camp was overrun with families who were either being deported or fleeing the bombs, or both. The Iranians who ran the camp were quick and efficient. We’d heard that people sometimes spend up to a week there, waiting to be sent back to Afghanistan. But we only spent one night, and thank God for that, because there were few facilities, the heat was unbearable and there was no food to be had.
In the morning, the Iranian government arranged for us to go to Islam Qala on the Afghan side of the border. But we had to pay for the bus fare ourselves. I was shocked by how much the bus fare had soared. In the past, children under six travelled for free, but now everyone had to pay and the fare had more than tripled. In situations like these, there are always unscrupulous people who see an opportunity to profit. Still, we had no choice. We had to pay up and get ourselves to Afghanistan.
From Islam Qala, the Taliban brought us here, to this camp for returnees. I don’t know the name, but many Afghans returning from Iran come here first, before continuing their journey to their home provinces. Here, each person gets 2,000 afghani [USD 28] and three meals.
By the time we arrived here, my youngest son was ill from the heat and exhausted from the journey. I told the people in charge of the camp about him and they immediately called an ambulance, which took us to a nearby clinic. Thankfully, he’s fine now. But the children are shaken. They don’t understand what’s going on. They want to go back to Tehran – to their friends, their toys, the little vegetable garden my wife keeps. They want to go home. They want things to be normal again.
We’ve been told that we’ll get a card that will cover the cost of our transport to our place of origin. This is what we’re waiting for now. Once we get that, we’ll go back to Balkh, where we have a house in our own district. I’ve been told that it’s fallen into disrepair since we left for Iran. So, once we get there, I’ll have to get moving on making repairs and making it comfortable for my family. This is my top priority. I need to make things as normal as possible very quickly, so that the sudden move doesn’t leave my children l hard done by. In Tehran, we had a home, I had steady work, there was school for the children and life felt normal. Overnight, we went from owning a house to a dusty camp, waiting for someone to give us a card that would pay for the bus fare to take us to Balkh. My wife and I know how quickly things can fall apart when war comes, but it wasn’t something I’d ever wanted my children to experience.
A future in Afghanistan
We heard that the US dropped a big bomb on an Iranian nuclear facility and now the war is over and there’s peace. But I don’t know if it’s true. One thing is for sure: when the war ends, I have to go back to Iran to get my money. But I won’t take my family with me this time. These days, it’s nearly impossible for Afghans to live in Iran. Most of us can no longer get residence permits and my family and I were getting deported anyway – it was only a matter of time.
I’ll go back alone and try to get my money from the man who sold us the house. He promised we could work something out later. I hope he’s still alive when I get back and that he’ll keep his promise. Even in the best of times, many Afghans get cheated out of their salaries by unscrupulous employers or lose their money when the person who holds their mortgage refuses to honour their agreement. I’m worried that the war might make this situation even worse.
But I won’t stay in Iran. Even if things calm down. We lived there for seven years and we’re grateful for the work and the safe place to live, but in the end we’re still outsiders – always guests, always temporary and always could be told to leave at a moment’s notice.
Between a rock and a hard place
On the road back to Afghanistan, and later in the two camps, I spoke to many Afghans. Their stories were a lot like mine – they’d gone to Iran to make a living. The ones who’d gone with their families wanted a better life for their children – safety, security, education for their daughters. The ones who’d gone alone wanted to send money home to their families and try to put some away – a nest egg for the future.
Some people, mostly men travelling alone, didn’t even bother to go to the camps, they just headed straight home to their families. Others, with families, were either being deported or were fleeing the war. Most said they didn’t want to go back to Iran. I talked to a few people who’d also left behind homes they’d bought on informal mortgages. Like me, they were planning to go back, get their finances in order and get the money for the house from the owners, but they said they wouldn’t take their families along this time. Even the people who said they’d go back to Iran for work once things had settled said they wouldn’t take their families along. They’d go alone, just to earn money and send it home to their families.
People who are poor always live between a rock and a hard place. [We’re back] in a country where there are no jobs, but there’s still the need to put food on the table.
Edited by Roxanna Shapour and Kate Clark