Name: Abdullah Danish

Profile: Hazara refugee from Afghanistan, living in Indonesia.

Advantages: UN-certified, good English skills, experienced as a volunteer teacher, knows basic computer skills, Martial Artist, educated.

Risk: At risk of being tortured and killed by the Taliban if returned home.

Canadian contact: Stephen Watt

My Story

Life was never merciful on me and my family. Since I can remember I was a refugee. Always looking for a safe and peaceful place. Always looking back in fear that someone would hurt or kill me. It all started for me in the province of Herat in Afghanistan, where we lived. When I was still a baby, the Taliban captured my father. They falsely accused him of being in resistant group against taliban and captured him, like they always do to us Hazaras (a minority ethnic group in Afghanistan). Hazaras are targeted and persecuted ruthlessly by Taliban and Pashtuns (the major ethnic group in Afghanistan and majority of them are Taliban) in Afghanistan for more than a century. the Taliban and Pashtuns try to destroy our history and culture by genocide and killing. One of the biggest incidents that happened was the destruction of the Buddhas of Bamiyan by the taliban in Afghanistan in 2001. These iconic statues were built by Hazaras in the sixth century. By destroying them, the Taliban tried to erase our culture and history.

My name is Abdullah, and I am an Afghan, an ethnic Hazara, living in Indonesia since 2014.

Hazaras have been killed, targeted and harassed by Taliban and Pashtuns for a very long time up until now in Afghanistan. After the Taliban captured my father, they sentenced him to death, that is what Taliban usually do to Hazaras. My father, and others who were facing the same fate as him, were imprisoned and tortured. After being in the Taliban’s prison for a while, my father said they were to be transferred to Kandahar (another Afghan province) where the execution was supposed to take place. Fortunately, the transportation convoy was attacked by Taliban’s opposite group who were trying to rescue their friends and community members. As my father told me, they were Tajiks whose members were also with my father in the convoy . Tajiks are another ethnic group in Afghanistan. Mmiraculously my father and his friends escaped too. When my father escaped, he directly took us, and we all fled to Iran in Afghanistan’s vicinity. But as my father told me, some of his friends were not able to escape. Later my father heard that they were all killed alongside their entire families when the Taliban captured them again.

Life in Iran

When we escaped to Tehran in Iran, it was the year 1996, and I was just two years old. We lived in Iran until the year 2006. For as much I can remember, in Iran, life was very difficult for an Afghan refugee. Everywhere we went I was beaten or insulted by Iranians. I never could go anywhere alone, not even to a bakery for buying bread for my family. Schools did not accept Afghans. Life was very difficult and as long as I remember most of the time when I was playing with other friends in front of our house, moments later I was running back to our home crying because Iranians beat me. we couldn’t do anything. We were so tired and stressed from living in Iran, but we did not have any other choice but to stay there, to bear the insults, get resented and harassed. The only other option we knew was to go back to Afghanistan and get killed.

I attended schools which were basically inside houses, which were established by Afghans who used to be teachers back in Afghanistan. But most of them were closed down by Iranian authorities, because Afghans were not allowed to do such things. In Iran only a few government schools were accepting Afghans in exchange for a huge amount of money. But again Afghan students were treated like animals in those schools. I studied a couple of years in government school, and I remember I could not get out of class during break times because Iranian students would beat me and when our classes were finished in the evening, I was just running so they would not be able to catch me. My parents many times complained to the school’s director, but they never cared, and their answer was: “Take your kids out of school if you don’t like it here”. My parents never wanted us to stay illiterate, they always encouraged us to keep study no matter what. For my fathers’ work was hard too. With low payments he could not keep up with the school expenses, and police was always looking for Afghan workers to arrest them and harass them in order to force them to pay money or deport them to Afghanistan. Eventually, my parents ran out of patience. They could not handle to see me and my sister always crying and living in fear. So, my father decided to migrate to the city of Quetta, in Pakistan, where a lot of Hazara people live. This all happened around 2006.

Life in Pakistan

In Pakistan we lived in “Hazara Town”, a neighborhood in Quetta city where only Hazaras live since it is not safe for Hazaras to live outside of our own community. We lived in a rented single-room home. Life was very difficult in Quetta as well but at least me and my siblings could attend schools that were established by Afghan refugees. And we were not in the same condition as we were in Iran. Everyone was friendly, no one threatened, insulted, beat us, or looked at us differently, because we were all the same. All of my family members were working in order to keep our life going. Me and my sister worked alongside our parents to help our parents with the expenses and rents and fees and were studying at the same time. Half of the day we were working, from morning until lunch time, then we went to school. After school I was studying English, and at night I was going to a martial arts school. When I finished my English language course, I immediately started to teach in the same place where I learned English, and got paid. It was not much but it was better than nothing. And after the year 2012 I opened my small martial arts school and I taught Muay Thai and boxing. This was a big help for my family. But in Pakistan the situation was getting worse, because Hazara communities were targeted by terrorists (Lashkar-e- Jangavi a sunni Baloch ethnic in pakistan) and they were using every way possible to kill Hazaras, such as attacking their shops, killing them on the roads and streets, in taxis, explosion planting, and killed many by attacking by suicide-bombers. They were targeting schools and educational centers. But us Hazaras will never give up on education.

Day by day situation was getting worse. I was terrified every second of my life and was always thinking when and where will the next explosion or shooting take place. The explosion in February 2013 which happened behind our school (Mawlana Jalaludin Muhammad Balkhi High School) more than 100 people were killed. I was at school when the explosion took place. Luckily I did not get seriously injured but the shock of the explosion was something I will never forget. Going out of our house there was always a risk of death. I lost many friends in the incidents. The trauma and the fear of those moment for me is unforgettable. The scenes of torn, burned bodies and pieces of human flesh are always in my brain. My friends, whose bodies were shot or just pieces of their body were left, were the moments that I wished I was never born to see those moments. For me every day was the last day of my life. It was not easy for anyone. I could see my parents and others were so devastated and I was so traumatized and depressed. Eventually, my parents decided to send me to another country, a safer and peaceful country where human rights and human life are valued and respected. And so that I would be able to help my family.

Journey to Indonesia

Eventually, they decided that I would have to go to Indonesia where I am living now since 2014. From here I should go to a safe country to get settled in And the only option for me was Indonesia. With all my parents’ savings and some additional money that they lent from others, I was able to reach Indonesia. The way from Pakistan to Kabul was so scary and full of risks. I saw a lot of burned vehicles and the roads and the bridges were all damaged due to the explosions done by the Taliban. It was just matter of chance that we could arrive to Kabul in one piece. When I arrived in Kabul, the agent took me to a house which I stayed there about one week until my flight to India was booked and one day on a cold morning in October, I went to airport to get to India.

The airplane took off from Hamid Karzai International Airport and landed around two hours later in New Delhi international airport. In India i stayed in Lajpat Nagar. I just stayed there for one day since the next day I had a flight to Malaysia. After 6 days staying in Malaysia, we went moved towrad indonesia through the jungle towards the shore to get on boat. It was not long walk, but every moment was terrifying and the fear of being caught by authorities or even thieves or gangs was frightening us. Once I got on the boat that was small and did not have enough space for us, it was the first time I experienced the sea. I was scared, and I just kept praying. The way the boat was moving was so scary and I did not know how to swim. If anything would have happened to the boat that night, I would have drowned and no one would have known what had happened to me. Every moment, I expected the boat to break into pieces. But fortunately, we landed on Indonesian soil after around 5 to 6 hours. After crossing the Indonesian jungle, we got into a car and the driver took us to Pekanbaru, a city on Sumatra Island in Indonesia.

Coming to Indonesia was a glimpse of hope that one day maybe I could be settled in a safe country. But now, this hope seems impossible. Because the Australian policy is so strict, that it has made it impossible to get out of this limbo. Here in Indonesia, we are not allowed to study or work. We don’t even have the right to ask for basic human right. They just let us to live here until we get resettled in another country and the UNHCR (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees) response to that is that most of us will never be able to get resettled.

When I arrived in Indonesia, I spent around one and half year in Pekanbaru. In December of 2015, after one year and few months, I moved to Manado city on the island of Sulawesi, where I spend one year until December 2016.

In Manado detention center, I kept myself busy and helped my fellow refugees to get involved in martial arts and learning English language. That was the least thing I could do for them to keep their mind occupied and busy, so they would not get too much stressed and depressed.

After spending a year in the Manado detention center, I moved to Jakarta on the island of Java in December 2016.

In 2018 I lost my father to illness which turned life for me and my family into more darkness. But there was nothing I could do for my family. Life turned into a flaming jungle for me. I don’t even know how I have survived until now. But during these times in here, I have found very dear friends who helped me a lot through the difficulties of life, and I thank God for these blessings.

I tried to keep myself as busy as possible. I got involved with churches and communities to help refugees. Mostly I have been interpreting for them when they needed a translator. I also helped in taking people to hospitals when they needed help. I also keep myself busy by competing in martial arts tournaments in Jakarta.

It has always been my dream to get into university one day so that I can further my education and be someone fruitful and helpful for society. One day I heard from friends that a local NGO gives a very small amount of refugees the opportunity to attend some university courses. I immediately applied, and after lots of searching and help of friends I got enrolled in these courses. For now, I am studying hospitality management in a Christian university, for which I am very grateful. But alas the university cannot give us any certificate or any legal document. So even if I finish all courses with an A+, I will not be able to get a degree, due to the Indonesia’s official policy of not allowing any refugees to study in schools and universities. Besides that, I will also not be allowed to find work after finishing these courses. This means that I have no hope for a better future in Indonesia. But most of all for me to get settled in safe country is the priority where I can have basic human right, so I can live a normal life like the rest of the world.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

God bless you.

My gmail: adanish0305@gmail.com

Phone number/whatsapp:+62895332144897