Editor’s note: This column is part of the Faces of 2021 series looking back at those in the news in the Aurora area in 2021.
For as long as I can remember – or at least the last couple of decades – this time of year The Beacon-News has featured a series of stories that look at some of the more memorable people of the past 12 months.
This is no exception. But this particular “Faces of 2021? column is different from those I’ve written in the past because it’s the story I never was quite able to land, as hard as I tried.
Theirs are the Faces of 2021 you did not see.
That’s because, despite the compelling story they could share, the two young Aurora men from Afghanistan never felt comfortable sitting down with me out of fear of repercussions for family members still living in their homeland.
Immediately after all hell broke loose when the Taliban took control of Afghanistan after the U.S.’s botched withdrawal of troops this summer, I tried repeatedly to meet them in person; first with a young man I will call Abdul, whose heart is in one world while the woman it beats for so fiercely is in another.
Abdul, who worked as a translator for the U.S. military beginning as a teenager, came to this country through a government program and has been working long hours so his wife could eventually join him.
But in mid-August, just like that, his longing turned into desperation as she tried in vain to make her escape in those chaotic and deadly weeks.
Through text messages, he said the first time she tried to get out of the country was Aug. 19, when she waited by the airport from 2 a.m. until 7 p.m. the following day. The text that followed days later seemed more hopeful as he learned she’d been able to get through the airport gates and had even been able to present her Pakistani visa and other documentation.
But then all hell broke loose again. As more people showed up and the crowd grew larger and more unruly, the Afghan Army began using tear gas, his wife relayed to him. When commandos began firing shots into the crowd, she fled, literally, for her life, returning home for yet another sleepless night.
Understandably, the young Auroran has not been able to rest either.
While the chaos has settled down in those terrifying first weeks of America’s sudden withdrawal, he is no closer to being reunited with his wife – or his brother who also wants to desperately get out. And as much as I and others tried to persuade him to talk, he decided it was not worth the risk.
His roommate, Abed, also feared retaliation against family still in Afghanistan, which is why I’m not using his real name either. While he did graciously agree to meet me at one point, unfortunately there was miscommunication on when and where that would be, and the in-person sit-down never took place.
After repeated attempts to reschedule, he became more evasive and then ghosted me.
Assimilation in a new country can’t be easy. But when you are not with those you love, it has to be especially tough, insisted the Aurora businessman and friend to these young men who first contacted me about them.
World Relief Chicagoland’s office in Aurora is also well aware of how tough this is on many of our community’s newest residents. In the first couple of weeks of the crisis, the group was trying to help local Afghans connect with any options that might be available to them. What the organization was getting were “calls and text messages from many of the hundreds of people who settled in this area over the last 20 years,” noted Executive Director Susan Sperry. People were “desperately scared for their family members and looking for any way to get them out.”
Sperry described that time as “excruciatingly hard” because “we had little control over what was going on and there was very little that could be done.”
“We have our voice,” Sperry said in August. “But we really have no power.”
This sense of hopelessness and frustration continue to be “very prevalent,” noted Nathan White, director of development for World Relief Chicagoland. “They are glad to be safe but concerned about those who could not get out.”
Although the initial panic may have subsided nearly a half-year later, texts recently from the two young men reveal mixed progress.
Abed says his wife, who was able to get a visa, is safe in Pakistan, awaiting an interview with the U.S. embassy so she can, hopefully, join him in a few months. A brother, he noted, is still in Afghanistan awaiting approval as “day by day things are getting worse.”
Abdul, who is working with an immigration lawyer, says his wife has an appointment for an interview in February to receive her U.S. visa and is hopeful she will be able to join him sometime soon in 2022.
Abdul described the situation as “really bad,” adding that before August he could at least send money but can no longer even do that.
“Any moment anything can happen to them,” he said, fearful that his work history with the government “puts them more at risk.”
The good news is that Abdul has become a U.S. citizen since this summer, which White says gives the young man a leg-up as it opens up more options for family reunification. World Relief, he added, is pushing for passageways to citizenship and legal residency, as well as advocating for “just and fair policies to protect them from harm, especially those who have partnered with the U.S.”
Also critical is creating “a community of welcome” for those who have arrived and the many more who are expected to settle here in coming months, he said.
“It is easy for all things that have gone on for this to be a blip in the news,” White told me. “But the reality is this is having continued long-term effects on people.”
And so, even without their pictures, even with only anonymous identifications and basic information, we should not forget what these local residents from Afghanistan have gone through and will continue to experience well into 2022.
As Sperry told me in August, “Americans need to hear real stories. We need to be able to put names and faces together. This is impacting our neighbors.”
