The son of a colonel from Kabul, Shoaib Effendi and his family had a comfortable life in Afghanistan. He and his siblings were living a stable life; they were receiving a good education and were well-off. But that was before the Russian invasion, and the rule of the Taliban.
The Taliban fighters began to question Shoaib’s father about Afghan army’s secrets, which he was not willing to disclose. His father began to receive death threats from the Taliban; they were left with no option but to flee their homes and come to Pakistan. “We sold our house and took whatever possessions we had and made our way to the mountains. In those days, exiting and entering through the Afghanistan-Pakistan border was no problem,” Shoaib recalls. The life the family had made for themselves was changed forever.
“In Pashtu there is this saying, “Akhpal koar khou akhpal ee.” It translates to “no home can replace your home.” But we had to make a home here, somehow. I buried my father in this nation’s soil. Then my sister,”Shoaib says.
“When we came here, we had to struggle a lot. We saw some really dark, horrible days in this country,” Shoaib says. The family was briefly in Peshawar but decided to come to Rawalpindi instead. Shoaib decided to get a job here. “I could not sit and think over the days left behind. I had to get on my feet and do whatever I could do to establish myself and my family here,” he says. He picked up Urdu quickly and was then fluent in Urdu, English, Farsi, Pashtu and Dari. He decided to become an interpreter in UNHCR office in Rawalpindi and later, when Sharp came into being, became part of the staff here and assisted UNHCR inquiry officers in interviewing the refugees.
Being an interpreter is not an easy job. The applicants who come here are confused and clueless about policies and laws regarding their status, which has to be communicated to them by the interpreter. Then the interpreter has to communicate their words to the officers at UNHCR. “Their words carry so much emotion and pain. It is my duty to build a bridge between the two parties, without being partial to any group. And these are my people, people whose struggle I have lived and seen for myself. It is a difficult job. I hate to break hurtful news to them,” Shoaib says.
It is Friday and the next inquiry is on Monday now. “When the applicants get rejected, that’s the worst part of my whole job. They scream at me and insult me as if I am the one making the decision. They get so angry, it gets difficult to control them,” Shoaib says.
On Monday, we are at the office to see the inquiry process and speak to the UNHCR officer. We get to see two families getting rejected or “screened out” of the interview. One of the women is crying and arguing with Abdul Mateen, a Sharp employee who is patiently trying to explain the process to her. A while later we hear another woman and peer out to see the exact sight Shoaib talked about- a Hazara woman screaming at Shoaib in Farsi while he is busy at the photocopy machine and simultaneously trying to explain something to the woman.
“Now you see what I talked about? Today is my major test for patience,” he says with a sad smile and tired eyes. It’s a busy day and neither of us have time to chat. I leave him to his work and say goodbye.
Shoaib plays an important role at the office. There aren’t many people fluent in English and the Afghan languages. His bright eyes and boyish smile are reflective of a resilient and optimistic man. He recalls his stories of struggle with a joyful smile. “I used to face harassment by the police before. But now I have my UNHCR and Sharp card, so I am safe here. These people have helped me a lot, they are like family,” Shoaib told me. “I know it is very hard, but you can make a home anywhere. As long as you meet the right people.”
