â€œMy wife Halimah was only 26 years old when it happened. We were walking on the pavement in Mazar-e-Sharif with our son Mohammad when suddenly, it felt like a war broke out. Eight Taliban attacked a government building nearby. The attack started at 11 a.m. and lasted until 9 p.m. In the end, they had killed many people, including my wife. I got injured and woke up in a hospital. I had been unconscious, but my little son remembers everything. He saw his mother die.
Often he has asked me: â€˜Where is my mother?â€™. â€˜She is In paradiseâ€™, I told him. He understands.
I used to be a teacher in Afghanistan. I had a job teaching Arabic, English, Farsi, Mathematics, Physics, and other subjects in a mid-level course for children. When Halimah and I got married six years ago, she didnâ€™t have an education, but she was a very smart woman and wanted to learn from me. So my wife also became my student, and after two years, she was teaching pupils herself at our house for money. Halimah was an excellent mother, wife, and person, and she was smiling all the time. Sometimes she visits me in my dreams.
Three months after the attack I had recovered from my injury and I left Afghanistan with Mohammad. The two of us crossed Pakistan, Iran, Turkey, Greece, Macedonia, Serbia and Hungary together until we arrived in Austria. Now I am Mohammadâ€™s father, mother, and teacher. He is my son and my best friend. He is a very intelligent boy and needs to play and go to school. I wish for him to be a famous scientist in the future. In Afghanistan, I taught him one English word a day. Now he knows 400.
One of my favourite sentences is â€˜Peace is better than foodâ€™. In the future, I want to see peace all over the world. This is my sweet dream.â€