Across borders....

“We crossed the mountain at the border and got into the waiting cars. To avoid attracting attention, four people sat in the front and back seats, and five squeezed into the trunk. One person lay on his back as instructed by the driver, while the others bowed over him, prostrating. The driver closed the trunk lid, pushing my head down against my legs. We set off with five people in a trunk meant for only one person. After a few minutes, I started to feel short of breath, and my feet went numb. I vaguely remember the lid being opened. After six hours, everyone had passed out. The smuggler woke us up by pouring water on our heads, but the boy standing in front of me in the trunk did not wake up. I do not know why. Perhaps he was too overweight to breathe properly. When I looked closely, I recognized him as being from the same city as me. We left the corpse aside and continued on our journey.

For the next five days, we walked non-stop. We ran until it was pitch black, then slept where we were. It was autumn, and I wondered if I would succeed. I was both afraid of dying and wanting to die to escape the torture. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the animals I had seen in Pakistan, and I feared they would attack me. I was also afraid that someone would steal my bag if I slept. Losing one's bread and water in this place meant death, which was a very real possibility.

The group we walked with was separated and reunited in different areas. When we arrived at Mount Muskul on the Pakistan-Iran border, there were about five hundred people with us. This mountain was the most difficult part of the journey. It was named after the word "difficult" in our language. It was a knife-edged mountain with no water or shade, and it determined everyone's fate. I hoped that every hill I climbed would be the last, but it never was. It took us two days to cross the mountain, and ten people were left behind - the old, the weak, the overweight, and those who had run out of food and water.

The sight of young corpses, crumbling bones, and graveyards made of only stones made us feel fortunate that we had made it through.”

Erhan İdiz's master's thesis, "The Mermaid at the Border Crossing - Why Are Afghans Coming to Türkiye?" is a research into the ongoing Afghan migration since 1979. It includes 13 detailed interviews with Afghans, including Hasan, who told of his journey. After hearing his story, İdiz was hesitant to believe it. However, as Hasan said, death is common in Afghanistan, so it did not seem strange to them to die on their journey to migration.

The book provides a human perspective on the tragedies in Afghanistan, and it is a must-read for anyone who wants to understand the issue of immigrants or refugees. It offers a framework for viewing the situation with humility and without unrealistic expectations. In the month of Ramadan, when our minds are clear and our emotions are refined, we should add this book to our reading list. It will change the way we look at the painful parts of our geography.

Finally, I pray that the month of Ramadan brings peace and tranquility to us all. Let us remember the needy near and far in our prayers.