â€œWhen I was eleven years old, I left Afghanistan together with my older brother who was thirteen at the time. But in the city of Quetta in Pakistan, our smuggler divided us into two groups and my brother and I got separated.
When I reached Iran alone, I didnâ€™t know where my brother had ended up. I ran out of money and started working at a construction company. It was a very difficult time because the people I worked for cheated me. Whenever I complained that they didnâ€™t pay me, they threatened to tell the police that I was in Iran illegally. After five years, I had finally saved up enough money to pay a smuggler to bring me to Europe.
I know now that in the meantime, my brother had lived in Pakistan and reached Austria three years ago. He lives at an asylum camp in Salzburg now. He goes to school where he learns German, English and Maths. When I also got to Austria with my mother some weeks ago, a friend from our village recognised us and told my brother that we were here. Two days ago, he took a train from Salzburg to Traiskirchen to meet us. We were so excited and happy to finally see each other again for the first time after five years.
I think that the government of Austria wants to send us away again, but I canâ€™t bear the thought of ending up back in Afghanistan. Every time I left the house back home, I was afraid of the suicide attacks and the fighting. Iâ€™d rather die than live in constant fear again.â€