…الان که دارم اینو مینویسم به شدت مطمئنم که به وجود نخواهی اومد !ولی در…
A shed as big as a nest,
Roofed with torn plastics and tarpaulins,
Fenced with tiny slices of bamboo
I heard my name “Hussan Sa Rezi” on the loudspeaker. Puzzled, I looked at my cellmate for confirmation. During my whole imprisonment, the security guards hadn’t pronounced my name right. My cellmate nodded that it was my name among a list of thirty refugees who would be released from Balikpapan refugee prison.
I developed a passion for writing. I began by painting my own suffering in words. As I continued practicing writing as therapy, I realized it was an effective way to connect with the wider world. I shared my writing on social media. I described the hardships and injustice that we refugees faced due to the barbaric incompetence of those responsible for running the detention system.
I am certain
That one day the sun will be jealous
Of the heat of my desire
I am a girl. I am 19 years old. I am from Kabul. I am from Afghanistan. I started school when I was a young girl. I wanted to be an engineer. I wanted to build my country.
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