In Search Of My Home

A crowd of about twenty 7-8 years old were circled around her, as she was crying. No one cared, they kept telling her she does not belong here, and she is not one of them. She went home with a heavy heart and asked her father, “Why is everyone including teachers treating me so bad. I always get good grades, I am polite to everyone, and I do well in the exams. What is the reason for this anger then?”

Her father, with lots of love in his eyes, and disappointment for society replied, “My dear daughter, there is nothing wrong with you; all those people are wrong. Your only mistake is you believe in something different than what they believe in, and in this nation, people’s beliefs are not tolerated.”

She started hating going to school, in spite of being an excellent and passionate student. Every time she would enter the class, the whole class would scream, “You are Kafir (an unbeliever)”. The teacher would kick her out of the Islamic studies class. Her best friends turned their back on her, and the only thing left for her was hate.

Finally, her father, who was also persecuted for his faith at work got enough of it, and decided to move to Nepal and seek asylum as a refugee. They had everything back home- a three story house, comfortable beds, land, and relatives but the only thing lacking was peace of mind. So they gave up everything in search of peace.

Being a refugee wasn’t easy. Nepal had a totally different language that none of them knew. They couldn’t go to school, because they weren’t allowed to. They couldn’t work for a living. A family of five, they lived in a one-room rented place, with no beds in it. They would sleep on the floor in cold, rainy, nights. They didn’t have enough food, and would eat meat or fruits only once a month. Don’t even talk about getting new clothes, or having toys to play with. They had lost everything. Their basic needs were barely fulfilled but at least they were safe. They lived in this condition for about six years. That eight year old girl, who was passionate about studying, was now fourteen with no education, and no real home. She always felt betrayed by the world. The land that she came from wouldn’t accept her, and Nepal treated them like they are guests!

One day UNHCR informed them that USA has accepted them to resettle in the land of opportunities. Within one month of their arrival to America, their whole world changed. She could now go to school, and live in a clean, safe, and warm house. But besides that, she was accepted for who she was in USA, and that felt like heaven on earth to her. She fell in love with this land, where no one made fun of other’s religions. Everyone had equal opportunity and rights. This land is home to her that she had never actually had before. She could buy new clothes, and now after eight years of hard work, she has graduated from the university with an honors degree in computer information systems, and is working as a software developer at one of the fortune 500 companies. She is grateful for this country, to accept her, and provide her opportunities. She calls it home and is very attached to it.

That little girl is me. I was persecuted as a child for being an Ahmadi Muslim, Muslims who believe that the long awaited Messiah foretold by many religions has arrived. We believe the “Krishna” for Hindu, Messiah for Jews, and Jesus for Christians and Muslim has metaphorically manifested in the person of Mirza Ghulam Ahmad of Qadian. As an Ahmadi Muslims, we believe that “jihad” does not mean killing people, but rather it means killing the corrupt desires within oneself, and striving to become a better person. The Ahmadiyaa Muslim Community adheres to the motto “Love for All, Hatred for None”.

United States of America provided me a safe environment and allowed me to utilize my potential to the full. I can safely say that, I would be an under educated, unconfident girl had I not been saved and brought to this land. This country has given me my home, safety, and acceptance. When you have been rejected your whole life, acceptance really does mean a lot, and a person who has seen a lot of rejections, gets really attached to one thing that has accepted them the way they are.

But, tears stream down my eyes, looking at refugees and immigrants detained at the airport. The unsafe political environment for immigrants and Muslims brings back the old fear that I had faced back home and is giving me nightmares again. It has reopened a wound that was long covered by this beautiful nation. Now I am wondering, why the hands that protected me, are willing to strangle my peace? Do I not have a home? Why do I have to live with fear of being rejected? Is home only where you are born? And what if where you are born abandons you, then where is your home? I really want to ask the stranger who shouts, “Go back to your country”, where is my country?!?!