The withdrawal of allied troops from Afghanistan a year ago led to desperate scenes as refugees tried to escape the Taliban. One man tells his family’s story
Photograph: Christopher Hopkins/The GuardianPhotograph: Christopher Hopkins/The GuardianBy the time we arrived at the big blue gate of Kabul airport, there must have been tens of thousands of people there. They were rushing from this gate to that for safety, shouting and yelling for help.were yelling at people and pointing their guns at them. You could hear gunshots everywhere. I saw a man bleeding from the side of his face yelling for help but nobody cared.
One of them saw how tired and energy-less we were. To help us, he picked my little daughter up just like a doll in his arm. Light and easy. They did the same to any other families when they saw they need help, especially when their kids couldn’t walk. Then they took us to a place which belonged to Australian forces and gave us something to eat, with bottles of water. I don’t really know how much you can feel the depth of a catastrophe. Sometimes I thought we are part of a scene of a movie.
But the feeling of flying away like a bird to an unknown part of the world bothered me. The scenes down there in darkness were fearful, upsetting and rattling. It was gunshots, bullets and people dying down there. We were tested for coronavirus and, after the results were negative, we were taken to Camp Cardinia in the same dream bus. Camp Cardinia was a nice place. There, in the 45C heat we had a cool room with an air-conditioner running 24/7. We had a small clinic, doctors and medicine and a small library where we could borrow books. The children picked pencils, notebooks, books and toys. They gave Diana diapers, too. Due to the large population and scarcity of space, men were separated from women.
It was a historical moment for me and my family. The plane had soft wide seats. They even gave Daniel and Diana separate seats. Daniel could watch cartoons on the small TV in front of him. From the map it had, I could see how far I was going from Afghanistan, and I felt sorry for everything. Noor measures up a window in a kebab shop for a poster promoting Noor and Masuma’s bolani pastry pockets. After quitting his job at a manufacturing plant, Noor momentarily ventured into the food business, producing and selling bolani to kebab shops owned by Afghan refugees in Melbourne’s south-east.Photograph: Christopher Hopkins/The GuardianNoor M Ramazan
Immigration staff greeted and welcomed us to Australia with utmost kindness and smiles. After a long entrance and registration, we were taken on a bus that left for the city. Heavy raindrops were hitting the windshield and the wiper washed it rapidly. The changeable Melbourne climate was unbelievable for me. An hour ago it was half sunny and now it was raining, washing the whole city. I was thrilled to see the big streets with many lanes and traffic lights.
It regularly rained at night, and the scent of flowers, grass and trees of Carlton, Treasury and Flagstaff gardens wafted through the city in the mornings. Every day we went for a morning walk and listened to restless happy birds singing. We stayed there for nearly two months, which was one of the good memories of the first days of life in Australia. We were now free.
Noor Ramazan and his friend, fellow Hazara refugee Aziz Bamyani, sip coffee in the city before a screening of Barat Ali Baatoor’s film about his horrific journey by boat to Australia.Photograph: Christopher Hopkins/The GuardianIn Afghanistan, you could find a house, pay the rent and move in. It was the total opposite here – renting a house was a gruelling task.
The Salvation Army found me a job at a water heater production company. The very kind members of SA bought me boots, safety equipment and work clothes. The work started with three giant machines, washing heater tanks with acid. We wore special white clothes, long rubber boots and protective glasses. The work was heavy and exhausting.
On that day I went to see the dazzling majestic blue-tiled mosque at the heart of my city and looked at it for a long time. The beautiful memories of Nowruz festival flashed through my mind like a short film. The platform where Hamid Karzai, the first president of Afghanistan after the Taliban, stood on in 2001 and promised a better new Afghanistan was still there. That day I was a few metres away in the crowd. How happy I was and I screamed with joy.
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