Day: October 21, 2022

Arriving at the Palapa. Placing our items on the boat all cramping onto a tight spot. There were about 400 of us leaving and we were escaping on a small boat. I was concerned. Our adventure starts not knowing what’s ahead of us. Hours and hours go by. Sadly still nothing. Nothing but just water. The heat was burning us to a crisp. People mumbling, sweat dripping, water splashing, the Palapa tumbling. The haunting smell of sweat horrifies me. This adventure couldn’t get worse. We created a SOS incase we get in contact with rescuers. Without a sound we all look up into the sky. “Hey there’s a plane,” someone yells. Everybody gets up with excitement yelling and screeching. Dolefully, the plane just flies by. With no luck the engine fails. ‘SNAP’ something broke. “The boats coming apart”. The boat starts to collapse. We all panicked trying to stay calm. Morning came. Still safe and alive. Eventually a kind man saved us. Boarding us onto his cargo ship relieved and grateful. We are now all safe on the Tampa.

 

A cold misty night. I’m woken up by a terrified, stubborn mother. Still no clue on what’s happening. “Abbas, Abbas wake up, we have to leave. The bus is here.” Eyes still shut, unable to see. Rapidly gripping items that I touch. The sound of hearts beating and heavy breathing. Sprinting out the door to the outside world. Crunching leaves, engine up and running, gas flowing through the air. The Taliban are crazy menacing people who don’t care. Entering the bus, ready to leave. Leaving my home I couldn’t believe. Tears flowing down my mothers face. Trembling with fear. Others pray while others hide away. My mind is a black hole. No thought of words, just silence. With just hope and faith we make it through the night. 

For this activity I created a diary entry. This diary entry is based on Abbas Nazari who was a 7 years old when he escaped the Taliban. The first diary entry is when I get onto the bus going to the boat.