Fear of the Taliban

“Why the hell are you wearing your shoes to bed?” yelled my sister with whom I shared my room and the bed.   Terrified and in a hushed voice I glanced at my dad and asked, “Daddy can I please wear my shoes to bed?  I want to be ready for the bomb shelter.” After a pause of what seemed like ages, my father nodded his head and gathered me in his arms.


 My sister grabbed my hand and hurried me to the main door that led down to the bomb shelter, with my dad and older sister following right behind us. I noticed a green monstrous tank slowly approaching our building with a head sticking out of its middle.  I had seen a lot of those and every time I saw one, my heart rate would increase. My heart was in pain and agony as I felt anguish for those that were left behind in the torn down apartments.   Closing my eyes, I tucked down and prayed for their safety.  Then suddenly dead silence. 


Gazing through the window again, the tank slowly started to depart, leaving shattered homes and cracks in streets behind.  Was it safe to go home now?  Or will they spot us and aim at us repeatedly like one would at a dart board?  May be it was a better idea to wait.  However, that day was not the scariest day of my life.  That is how daily life was during the war back in Afghanistan.  Overtime, we just got used to it and we knew exactly what to do to protect ourselves but we were never too sure if we were going to live to see the next sunrise. 


Fortunately, here I am today alive and healthy and free to do whatever it takes to achieve my goals and dreams.  Living in a state of poverty during the war has taught me to be more appreciative of what I have today in life, especially the freedom to get an education.