Eid al-Adha in America is both fun and strange for me. Here, we go to the mosque, and men and women pray together. In Afghanistan, women aren’t allowed to go to the mosque, so it's special to pray with my family here. I got to stand next to my mom and watch her pray, which I couldn’t do in Kabul.
Adding to this strangeness, we don’t have our big family in the US. Mr. Will is helping some of our family members get out of Afghanistan; when they come, it might not feel strange anymore. But right now, my grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins are all back in Afghanistan. We visit friends and try to make it feel like a big family gathering, but it’s different. I miss the fun and noise of having lots of relatives around. So, it never feels like home. My parents buy Afghan sweets, bread, cakes, chocolates, and candies to make the celebration feel more like home, but it never feels like home. We even wear beautiful Afghan clothes, but they are different. It feels like we’re copying our old celebrations instead of really living them.
In Kabul, Eid was freer and more fun. After the morning prayers, I would run outside with my friends to play. We could buy yummy street food like Shoor Nakhud and explore the busy city together. I can’t just go out and play or walk around the streets here in America. My parents worry about our safety, and they say kids are not allowed to go outside by themselves, so it never feels like home. The parks are nice, and the streets are clean, but it’s different because I can’t share these moments with my old friends or enjoy the familiar tastes of Kabul’s street food. Even the playgrounds and fun places here don’t feel like home.
Even with all this, we try to make Eid happy. My mom and dad decorated the house with colorful lights and balloons. New and fresh Afghan rugs are covering every corner of our home. We play games, watch movies, and sometimes visit an amusement park. We have barbecues or eat at a nice restaurant. There’s always a special treat, like a trip to an ice cream shop or a new toy. But even with all these fun things, something is missing. The feeling of home, with all its familiar faces, smells, and sounds, can’t be replaced. No matter how hard we try, it never feels quite like home!
The expression of generations of immigrants who left home
For America-‘it doesn’t feel like home’-
And it never will. That’s for future generations.
Just hope it’s a better place than where you left.
War is hard on everyone. One of the saddest hardships is being separated from family and the changes with being separated from all that was once familiar. I hope you feel safer in the US and have peace of mind to create a new life. I pray that God will continue to bless you in your journey.