Echoes of separation: letter to a lost homeland — Assembly

Aiman Ramizy reflects on the loss of her homeland after the August 2021 evacuation at Kabul airport. She documents her experiences through poetry and photos.

I entered this world within the embrace of a land known as Afghanistan. My generation emerged as radiant rays of hope, arriving on the scene after the shadows of the Taliban had retreated from our homeland. The tapestry of my life has been woven with the vibrant threads of Kabul, a city that holds all my earliest memories. It was in Kabul that I embarked upon my life’s journey, and learned the graceful dance of existence and love, all under the watchful gaze of a city that felt like home. Within this city, my pen first touched paper, writing the letters that paved the way forward. It was in the classrooms, the cozy corners of home and the laughter of friends and loved ones that I discovered my world.

I was lucky enough to be born during a time of renaissance in Afghanistan. The echoes of the Taliban’s departure mingled with the dawn of a nation's recovery. It was the time that the landscapes of my country transformed with the blossoming presence of newly constructed schools, buildings, parks, and roads. The once-quiet markets and restaurants were bustled with life again and simultaneously, Afghan women found their rightful place in society once again.

The past twenty years have adorned my country with an unparalleled beauty. It's the cherished memories of my time in my homeland that now shape my existence in exile. I can still clearly recall the joy of ascending the Wazir Akbar Khan hill, gazing down at the beauty of my beloved Kabul city, and wondering, when our nation would finally embrace true peace. A peace where every soul could live in happiness without any fear.

But reality took a different course. We not only lost the fragile peace we built, but also our happiness, dreams, and aspirations — here one moment, gone the next. All of our hard work of two decades vanished in an instant. I still remember the day when the TV news announced the former president's escape. A sudden coldness gripped me, and I could hear my heart break. It was hard to believe what I was hearing. Twenty years of struggle and striving, and this was the outcome. All I can say is that I witnessed my dreams buried that day. They say time travel is impossible, yet at that moment, it felt like I had been transported back two decades to that dark period when the Taliban first seized power.

I remember the day I packed my whole life into a single backpack, with tears streaming down my face. Each room in my home held memories, and I took a moment to cherish them before saying my final goodbyes to my home, family, and friends. As I was sitting on the airplane, I looked down at the city I had called home, closed my eyes and engraved its image in my mind and heart deeply. The emotions I felt at that moment are beyond words. Every time revisit that moment, I am overcome with the same wave of feelings. Even though I physically left my home, a part of my soul remains, wandering through the familiar streets of Kabul city, forever connected.

“Reality took a different course. We not only lost the fragile peace we built, but also our happiness, dreams, and aspirations — here one moment, gone the next.” (photo courtesy of Aiman Ramizy)

I sometimes feel like my country and I grew up together, changing and improving every day. Amidst the challenges we faced, hope kept us going, preventing chaos from taking control.

I was raised in an academic family, full of human rights advocates, where education was important. Immersed in this environment, my aspirations took shape. One day, no matter what career path I choose, I wanted to become an advocate myself, contributing to bringing positive change into people’s lives. I started my advocacy efforts right from my school, where I organized events. I also took on a leadership role in organizing eye-opening events like Model United Nations (MUN) conferences and TED talks, particularly geared towards empowering and inspiring girls in my school. Even in exile, I continue to advocate for Afghan people's rights however I can.

I wrote this letter to my homeland while going through the emotions of recalling the day I said farewell to it in August 2021. In the letter, I delicately unfurl the emotions and the whispered words that have remained unspoken, each word a testament to the passage of two years since I departed from Afghanistan after the Taliban takeover.

“Echoes of separation: letter to a lost homeland”

Among the mountains, rocks, fields of gold and green, mud houses, lakes and streams. Forests and deserts, torments and delights, sorrows and laughers, lovers and broken hearts there you were, my precious homeland

What befell us that made us so separate from one another? Who did this to us? We were blissful, weren't we, my dear? Albeit, in each corner of you, you had an account of agony to tell

Still, you were our home, and we were your light

For so many years you were witness to the moms who lost their children, sisters who lost their siblings, children who lost their fathers and sweethearts who lost their lovers in the name of war. I wonder when you embraced those bodies into your soil what stories do they tell?

Did they tell you about their unachieved dreams, the adventures they wanted to go on, books they wanted to peruse, friends they wanted to meet, lovers they wanted to kiss and the futures they wanted to achieve but couldn’t? What happens to their dreams when they are buried in your soil?

My dear, I have so many questions to ask you. However, I can't because I don’t think my heart can handle the responses you might give me

In any case, I cannot help you without asking you if you recall the day I bid you farewell

It was on August 24th, 2021, in Kabul airport. The day that I was forced to pack my whole 17-year-old life in a bag and leave my identity and life behind

The day that I was sitting under the military marquee with hundreds or thousands of other people in that stifling hot weather with no food or water for one day and night waiting to get rescued

As I was staying there, I pondered what I saw prior to entering the airport, it was the miserable and hopeless eyes of children, men, women — old and young — who were waiting tragically behind the walls of the airport to be rescued

I thought about the future

The days that I won't be able to wake up in my own house, to the view of Pol Artel and Sher Darwaza Mountain

The days when I won't be able to hug my friends or go to our little coffee shops all around Kabul city

The days I won't be able to see my whole family together

The days I won't be able to live in the city that I was born and raised in

I wondered what would happen now. Now that we left, what will happen to those who stay?

It pains me to think that the land where we used to make our dreams come true is now the graveyard for such countless dreams.

My dear, saying goodbye to you was as though my soul was going to leave my body for I wasn't just leaving you, I was leaving my home, family, friends and people behind.

The most distressful part is that I don't have a clue when will I meet them again, or if will I ever meet them again.

My beloved, it has been two years since we got separated from one another. Now I am thousands of miles away from you. There is even the whole Atlantic Ocean between us and I am longing for the feeling of home more now than ever

For no matter where I am, if it is not you then it’s not home

We got robbed of a lifetime with you, but I believe our futures are connected

I promise you that I will become the individual of wisdom that you want me to turn to.

Without a doubt, there is light after darkness and I believe our generation has endured pain to be able to free the following generations

My precious, goodbyes aren't forever

Until we meet again, my beloved homeland

“I sometimes feel like my country and I grew up together, changing and improving every day. Amidst the challenges we faced, hope kept us going, preventing chaos from taking control.” (photo courtesy of Aiman Ramizy)

Aiman Ramizy

(she/her) is an Afghan immigrant living in Canada, she and her family evacuated from Afghanistan in August 2021. She uses her poetry to unfurl emotions and hidden words, that sometimes remain unspoken.