News & Events

On my first days of my life in Maine, while trying to adjust to American life, I was touched, inspired and moved by my host mom’s brother, Steve. Steve is the father of four different adopted children. He adopted two boys from Colombia and two Yupik Eskimos from Alaska.

In mid January, Steve and little Bobby, Steve’s eight-year-old foster son, came to visit us for a week. Our first family venue was at a wonderful Mexican restaurant in Lewiston, Maine. Louis, Steve’s 26-year-old son and his beautiful girlfriend, Emily, also joined our delicious and warm table of Mexican cuisine on a cold January night. The warmness of the table was running parallel with our warm feelings as a family. At the same time, something was happening to me as this warmness and love was moving along, a strong force and an impulse that was pulling me toward a new chapter in my life.

On the one hour drive to our “home, sweet home,” I was asked to accompany the jet-lagged Steve, so that he did not fall asleep. The new chapter of my life began with my conversation with Steve as his car started to roar forward. “I love children; they deserve to be protected, they need good care, they have rights as humans and they should be happy” were the words that were coming out of his mouth. They were so strong and touching because they were talking about little Bobby drawing a crocodile, reading his story book, or playing with his iPad.

Is Steve’s assertion about “I love children” true? Yes, it is. A closer glance to the life of his four adopted children satisfies me. I can see success, respect, comfort and happiness in the life of four human beings who could possibly end up as negative, and convicted characters in our society. Hence, Steve is true about his words. He loves children, takes care of them, and makes them happy. But is not raising four children very costly for someone who owns an ordinary American life? Sure it is, but Steve is not worried about that part of this story. The only thing he cares about is to watch Bobby go to school, play with his friends and hum his favorite songs.

Encountering Steve and knowing about him is my first top American experience. How many men like Steve have I encountered in Afghanistan who are capable of adopting orphans? Many, but unfortunately none have dared to adopt one. And none of the orphans have had the chance to live like Louis or Bob. What Steve does can be one of the rarest good works in the world. But this rarest experience of mine taught me an important lesson, the lesson of caring for humanity!

My experience with Steve was quickly followed with another caring for humanity experience. Ms. Perry, our US history teacher, asked us to read an article about Elie Wiesel. I can undoubtedly claim that the article is one of the best articles I have ever read. In the article, I found out about Elie; how he suffered in Concentration Camps and, on the other hand, what wonderful things he does today. During World War II, he saw, in front of his eyes, babies being thrown in hot furnaces in the Holocaust. His eyes witnessed the death of his father and the many others who were being frozen to death. But what is Elie’s response? What is his revenge? It is love, not hatred. Is he absurd? Yes, he is, but only if a true mankind is absurd! How could he be absurd when the opposite of love to him is not hatred, but indifference. He was in a place where one came to slaughter and many went to die. It is incredible that today Elie, who witnessed the execution of six million Jews, is capable to love people. He helps children in Bosnia and Kosovo. From this incredible experience, I am inspired to erase the word “hate” from my life. I am convinced that I can live like Elie Wiesel.

There are a lot of countries around the world that terribly suffer terror, disease and poverty. My country, Afghanistan, is one of them. Over the past few decades, my fellow-citizens witnessed women being stoned to death, watched the Taliban close the doors to my female cousin’s classrooms, and saw my father bury every book he owned. My fellow-citizens kept watching and watching as if they were numb to do something. I do not blame them. They did not have the chance to learn about the right and the wrong. But I had this chance. I came to the US, and I learned a lot. Now, it is my turn and my responsibility to share all of these experiences with my Afghan fellows. I am going to start a process of sharing and understanding; a process through which I will be able to encourage my people to re-open the doors to my cousin’s classrooms. And this process will happen through the “schools of thought” I am going to make. It may take generations, but as long as it works, I am not concerned.

These two noteworthy American Experiences have been followed by many other expressive ones, volunteer community services being one of them. I call these, “The Chain of My American Experiences.” They have made me happy and optimistic; optimistic to care, love and help people. They keep producing pictures of my future in front of my eyes; the library I am going to build, the peace choir I am going to start, the trees I am going to plant, and finally the schools of thought I am going to build.