431: AFGHAN REUNION

It began eight years ago.

An article in the Gazette caught my attention. A group of Afghan women met weekly downtown, where they ran a community kitchen and catered Afghan meals.

I love Afghan food.

Long story short, I met the group, offered to volunteer teach them conversational English and made a bunch of friends.

Over seven months I gradually learned about the lives of these determined and motivated women, each of whom had, under great stress, managed to leave their country and legally immigrate to Canada.

Some walked across the border of Afghanistan, with their children and one suitcase.

Others left abusive husbands and by cultural rules- lost custody of their children.

They were all teachers in their home country- working until war broke out. Suddenly, they were no longer allowed to work or go to school. That's just the tip of the iceberg.

They felt imprisoned in their own homes. 

They feared for their lives and the lives of their children.

Eight years ago, we met in that downtown community center.

Of course we didn't begin talking about personal issues day one. It took time, trust and continuity to slowly learn some hard facts about what it can be like to live in fear. What it can be like to have certain freedoms disappear overnight.

The details of life unraveled.

The group met once a week, not only to cook and cater, but to connect with Montreal, to make new friends.

I taught them English for seven months.

Eight years later was yesterday when I dropped into their new downtown center. Four out of seven women from the original group were present.

The four who greeted me have settled into life in Montreal. Their children became doctors, lawyers, dental assistants, accountants.

Non slackers.

We sat around a table and chatted like it was eight years ago. The women are seniors now, like me. They give back by helping other newcomers to the city.

They will begin by having an open house to show who they are, what they do, how they plan to give back and how they treasure their freedom.

They gave me a box of Afghan cake.

(It's Ramadam, so they couldn't eat anything in the day. The box of cake sat on the table all the while we were chatting.)

I wondered what it's like to fast. Never tried fasting. Can't be easy. 

We got caught up on our lives.

We laughed. 

I respect these women.

We hugged goodbye.

I took my box of home made cake and walked to the metro.(subway in Montreal)

A slice of life in a multicultural city.

My city.

Montreal.

Peace.