Chapter one
“Everyone was running to get away”
When we arrived at the big blue gate of Kabul airport, there must have been tens of thousands of people. They ran from one door to the other for safety, screaming and shouting for help. The Taliban were shouting at people and pointing their guns at them. Shots could be heard everywhere. I saw a man bleeding from the side of his face screaming for help, but no one cared. Thousands of old, young, men, women, children rushing up and down not knowing where to go or what to do. We all just wanted out. This panic was created by the Taliban.
After 20 years, everything in Afghanistan is back to where it started. After years of waiting, waiting and dreaming about our country, we were leaving our belongings, family and friends.
Everyone remembered the first time the Taliban came. Those who were young and did not remember listened to the elders. We all knew who the Taliban were. That’s why everyone wanted to be the first to leave. All our belongings were on our backs and we ran for our lives. Famous runners, politicians, us and everyone. Elderly people were out of breath, children were trampled and some died, but still everyone ran to leave.
Afghans looking for a way into the airport are blocked by international peacekeepers. Photography: Noor M Ramazan
My little family was in the midst of this commotion: the crowd, the shots, the falls and the risings. Me, Masuma, four-year-old Daniel and four-month-old Diana were trying to make our way after 24 hours and much effort through the crowd pushing towards a gate blocked by British soldiers. Daniel was heavy on my shoulders and Diana was falling asleep in her mother’s arms. The midday sun poured its heat with all its might on the defenseless population. One was thirsty and hungry and another passed out from lack of oxygen and heat. Our fourth attempt after five hours brought us to the British soldiers. After checking our documents, they opened their wall-like riot shields to open a small gap for us to enter. Then the Australian troops surrounded us. They were true heroes.
One of them saw how we were tired and without energy. To help us, she held my little daughter like a doll in her arms. Light and easy. They did the same with any other family when they saw that they needed help, especially when their children could not walk. Then they took us to a place belonging to the Australian forces and gave us something to eat, with bottles of water. I don’t really know how much you can feel the depth of a catastrophe. Sometimes I thought we were part of a scene from a movie. But that day there was a catastrophe and the army was handling the situation. I admire that.
We were guided to our place of stay at about 11:00 pm: large cages, like 15 square meters. All closed The ground was a natural ground full of thorns, garbage, there were many giant cages connected to each other. It looked like zoo animals locked in their cages. We stayed there for the next 24 hours, until the next night for our flight. We had to sleep on the bare floor. It was a cold night and we couldn’t sleep, shivering all night, hearing gunshots and noise from people outside the airport. The days in Kabul were hot and sunny, but the nights were cold.
Thousands of Afghan residents trying to evacuate Kabul are stopped by a river of dirty sewage. Photography: Noor M Ramazan
Flying like a bird to an unknown part of the world bothered me… It was gunshots, bullets and people dying down there.
Noor M Ramazan
For a day and a night, Noor Ramazan left his wife and children to find a way to get to Kabul airport. Photography: Noor M Ramazan
The next morning we were waiting in a long line for our flight to the United Arab Emirates. We waited in line for 17 hours. We were brought onto the plane from the back. The open door of the plane looked like the huge jaw of a dinosaur. We went in and sat in line on the floor, about 250 people. The plane was heating up with a loud noise as it started to move and then went higher and higher. I could only see the dim lights of the Kabul airfield flickering from afar in the darkness. The rest of Kabul looked like a black necropolis.
I had been on a lot of flights around Afghanistan because of my job. As we were landing and approaching the ground, I imagined a prosperous life in the rectangular houses of Kabul. I imagined an old man with a white beard fixing his turban on his head in front of a mirror, or a woman bent to pray, or a large family with many children sitting on the carpet on the floor chatting and drinking tea with a large teapot in the middle
But I was bothered by the feeling of flying like a bird to an unknown part of the world. The scenes down there, in the dark, were scary, haunting, and trembling. It was gunshots, bullets and people dying down there.
Social media was full of judgments and disturbing and painful photos. They showed the lifeless body of one of my compatriots, stuck somewhere on the wing of a military plane who died of extreme cold. His body waved in the massive wind up there like a flag or a handkerchief tied to a tree branch. You could see footage of people the size of a mosquito falling from the wheels of a giant plane paddling through the air as they fell towards the ground. Even more painful were the taunts and jokes that were inflicted on us.
One company designed a T-shirt with the image of an airplane with some people floating in the air, with the words “Kabul Sky-diving club”. People were dying, not fearing for their lives in my country, but somewhere in the first class world, among civilized human beings, we were being mocked. We neither asked America to come to Afghanistan nor to leave. They don’t ask your permission when they come and they don’t ask for your consultation as they go. And when they left, everyone rushed to the airport for their lives. I wish this never happened to anyone anywhere.
Masuma Panahi boards an Australian Air Force aircraft carrier as the family is evacuated from Kabul to Dubai en route to Melbourne. Photograph: Noor M Ramazan Rich afghan rugs and curtains in Melbourne’s Ramazan home Noor Ramazan writes in the local library, a place she finds “calm and peaceful, away from the craziness of home”. An aspiring author, he is working on a book of short stories
Chapter two
“Welcome to Australia mate”
The back of the plane had opened again and the light in the air showed that it was quite early. We, like zombies, unsteadily stepped out of the military plane. The bright UAE morning looked warm, humid and foggy. When my bottom hit the soft seat of the bus that was supposed to take us from the plane to the coronavirus testing center, I felt like a prince from my childhood stories sitting in his chair made of swan feathers It seemed like a long time since I sat in a soft place.
We were tested for coronavirus and after the results were negative, we were taken to Camp Cardinia on the same dream bus. Camp Cardinia was a nice place. There, in the 45C heat, we had a cool room with an air conditioner that ran 24 hours a day. We had a small clinic, doctors and medicine and a small library where we could borrow books. The children collected pencils, notebooks, books and toys. Diana was also given diapers. Due to the large population and the lack of space, the men were separated from the women. Masuma and Diana had gone to the women’s section. Daniel and I were in a room with seven bunks and 14 men.
They offered us food three times a day. There were beautiful varieties of nutritious foods available in the beginning. We had rice, meats, chicken, vegetables, fruits, soft drinks, etc. But the quality and quantity of food decreased day by day. During these last few days we waited in long and chaotic lines for a sandwich that didn’t fill half of our stomachs.
Masuma with the children A portrait of the Ramazan family drawn by five-year-old Daniel, directions from a card in English on a door of the Ramazan house. Upon arriving in Australia, Noor was the only member of the family who spoke English. Almost a year later, Daniel speaks fluently and Masuma can hold a conversation
Australian flight lists were posted on the dining room wall each day. A large crowd gathered there hoping to see their names on the list. After the fourth night and fifth day, I also saw myself and my family on the list. I was filled with joy and happiness. When I told Masuma, her eyes sparkled with excitement. He kissed Diana. “You mean we’re going to Australia?” he asked in a soft, happy voice. I said, “Inshallah.”
Due to an administrative problem, we didn’t get on that first flight, but four days later, for the second time, I saw my family’s name on the list. The next day, with our boarding passes in hand, the same magical bus brought us to the plane door. Australian Army aircraft could be seen everywhere. But among them was another commercial plane that looked beautiful.
It was a historic moment for me and my family. The plane had wide, soft seats. They even gave Daniel and Diana separate seats. Daniel could watch cartoons on the small TV in front of him. From the map I had, I could see how far Afghanistan was, and I felt sorry for everything.
The plane had lovely flight attendants who treated us with special kindness. Masuma was jealous when I looked at them, so she warned me, putting her index and middle fingers in a V shape to her eyes and then pointing at me. The plane’s crew spoke to each other in an unknown language. Out of curiosity I asked one of them where they were from. Portugal said. I assumed that the plane from a Portuguese company was leased by the Australian government.
Masuma adjusts her scarf
The plane was so high. I couldn’t believe how small and insignificant the land looked against the calm waters. From above, it looked like pieces of broken ice that were separated from each other…