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Flight from Afghanistan

Sunday, August 11, 2002

By Sally Kalson Post-Gazette Staff Writer

Faurozia Abdulaziz has some difficulty explaining how she came as a refugee from Afghanistan, via Pakistan, to live in suburban Pittsburgh.

	Faurozia Abdulaziz holds her youngest son and her seven other children sit in the background in their three-bedroom apartment in Whitehall. They came here in April after four years as refugees in Pakistan. (Franka Bruns, Post-Gazette)

For one thing, her husband's murder by the Taliban and her subsequent escape across the border while nine months pregnant and with seven children in tow is emotionally draining to recount.

For another, she is one of a very few, if not the only ethnic Pashtun in the region, and no one has been able to locate a volunteer translator to communicate with her in her native Pashto language.

During her four years as a refugee in Pakistan, however, she did have to learn to speak enough Urdu to get by. And amazingly enough, of all the apartment buildings where she could have been placed upon her arrival in April, she happened to wind up as a neighbor to Farrukh Nisa, who comes from Pakistan and speaks Urdu.

The women reside in the Prospect Park apartment complex in Whitehall, home to many foreign residents. Since learning of Abdulaziz's situation, Nisa has taken her on as a personal cause.

The family was resettled by Catholic Charities of the Diocese of Pittsburgh and also is getting help from the International Outreach Project of Family Resources, an agency that focuses on the well-being of children and families.

With Nisa translating, Abdulaziz, 36, is able to tell the story that has awed and humbled all who have heard it.

"The strength of this woman is incredible," said Khadra Mohammed, director of the International Outreach Project. "What she went through would have broken a lot of people."

		More information For information on how to help, you can e-mail mgreen@family resourcesofpa.org

"She is the world's bravest woman," adds her son, Ismat, 11.

His mother and her friend sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor of the family's apartment. The children line up on the sofa, silent and still, to hear once more the story of the family's escape. The oldest is daughter Fatima, 15, followed by Aliya, 13; Ismat; Naqeeb, 8; Zia, 7; Norkania, 6; Sonia, 5; and Najeeb, 4.

Every so often, their mother stops talking to take a deep breath, or to weep. Sometimes she stares into space and has to be brought back by the gentle sound of Nisa's voice.

Four years ago, Abdulaziz lived in Kandahar with her husband and children. They had a big house with a refrigerator, paid for by his job as a driver for Afghan government officials. The Taliban had not yet solidified their stranglehold on the city.

Her husband, she said, had a cousin who was jealous of his success. Once the Taliban took over, the cousin saw a chance to improve his lot. He denounced Abdulaziz's husband, falsely claiming he had collaborated with the hated Russian occupiers. Even though he was an ethnic Pashtun like the Taliban, they arrested him, locked him up and tortured him to death. Then they gave his body back to his widow for burial.

The next day, the cousin showed up at the house and demanded her 20-year-old sister-in-law, who lived with the family. Abdulaziz was powerless to stop him. She knew it was not safe to stay there any longer.

At 5 a.m. the next day, she and her children left home, taking only a fistful of money and the clothes on their backs. They had no passports.

She offered all her cash to the driver of a transport truck that was hauling grain toward the Pakistani border. Mother and children, ages 1 to 11, hid in the rear of the truck under the canvas cover. At times, Abdulaziz had to risk riding up front, where she might be seen, in order to avoid passing out in the stifling heat.

They rode as far as they could in that vehicle -- the driver took pity on them and declined payment -- then walked for several hours. At midnight, they illegally crossed the border into Pakistan in the back of another truck.

The driver put them out at the first village, on the outskirts of Quetta. Tired, scared and officially stateless, they wandered the street until a Pakistani family offered them a single room in their home. Three days later, Abdulaziz gave birth to her eighth child, unattended, on the dirt floor.

Feeding her family would not be easy, but she did have a skill. In her former life, she had enjoyed making beautiful, elaborately embroidered clothing, hand-sewn and studded with mirrors. Now the hobby became her livelihood.

She eked out a subsistence as a seamstress. Often she sewed late into the night, straining her eyes in the dark and developing terrible headaches that plague her to this day.

With her earnings of $15 a month, she bought the only food she could afford: flour, potatoes and oil, never milk, meat or other protein. Sometimes the family didn't eat for four or five days at a time.

As other refugees streamed across the border, she picked up bits of news from home. The Taliban had killed her husband's brother, too. The cousin, meanwhile, had forced the stolen young woman into marriage and moved into Abdulaziz's house.

After a month, she was joined in Quetta by other fleeing family members -- her mother; her pregnant sister, husband and two babies; and her 70-year-old uncle, who'd been like a grandfather to the children since her own father was killed by the Russians. The uncle joined Abdulaziz and the children; the others stayed nearby.

Another Afghan advised her to apply for help from the United Nations High Commission on Refugees, which put the family on a list for resettlement. While they waited, her sister died in childbirth. Her mother died shortly thereafter.

It would take four years for Abdulaziz and her eight children to be approved for entry by the U.S. State Department.

The beloved uncle, however, was turned down and had to move out of the house when they left. He lived in the mosque for a while but was later jailed for being in the country illegally. Last week, word came that he had been released.

In April, the nine-member family arrived in Pittsburgh. Catholic Charities arranged for a three-bedroom apartment furnished with donated goods, Social Security cards, public assistance and school enrollment -- a first for all but the oldest son, the only one his parents could afford to educate in Afghanistan.

One of the children suffers from seizures; her mother says they were caused by too-powerful drugs prescribed by a doctor in Pakistan. At least two others will need special education services, probably the result of malnutrition.

"Food and an apartment are obviously very important, but there are a lot of other issues, too," said Andi Fischoff, Family Resources spokeswoman.

"Our role is to advocate for the children's health care and education. They'll need psychological evaluations, doctor appointments, help with trauma and depression. Everything is complicated by the language barrier."

Ismat said he would like to become a doctor. Fatima just wants an education. They miss their home and their father, but do no not want to go back.

"Since the bombings, so many people are homeless," their mother said.

The family now lives on public assistance and food stamps. It's enough to buy the groceries, pay the rent and send $10 a month to her uncle, but Abdulaziz worries about the $8,000 in plane fare that she must repay to the United States Refugee Resettlement Service.

Her payments are supposed to begin next month.

How will she make a living here? How will she repay the loan? The answer may lie in the gorgeous, hand-sewn clothing in which her children are dressed to receive visitors.

The outfits look like something that well-off Americans would snap up in a minute, except that Abdulaziz can't see well enough to make them right now. Her vision is blurred from all those late nights of close work in the dark, and the headaches worsen when she tries to sew. Maybe an upcoming appointment with an ophthalmologist will help.

Nisa, Mohammed and other volunteers have been helping the family negotiate the buses, laundry and the supermarket.

"In the beginning, she could recognize only the vegetables and fruit," Nisa said. "So many other things she didn't know. I would show her: This is salt. This is ketchup."

"She is still in a period of grieving," Mohammed said. "When the children go to school in the fall, she'll need something to do. We are hoping her eyes will improve soon and she'll be able to sew."

This summer, the family's life revolves around English classes, grocery shopping, cooking and eating, with prayer lessons for the children and the occasional doctor's visit.

Abdulaziz says she is grateful to America for the chance to start again, even though the adjustment is hard and the future uncertain.

Her hopes, she said, are centered on her children.

"If they are happy, I am happy. I just want them to be better educated and have a better future."

Sally Kalson can be reached at skalson@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1610.