New pants for Christmas

It was 4 a.m. Jawed Haqmal, a former interpreter for the Canadian army in Afghanistan who has been waiting 15 months to be able to rebuild his life in Canada, watched his daughters sleep. He couldn’t close his eyes. So he started to write.

Marwa, her eldest daughter of 11, was seized with coughing spells, which woke her up every time.

“Dad, when are you taking me to the doctor?” When are you buying me a winter coat? »

The father no longer knew what to say to his crying daughter.

“Please sleep now. We will have relief soon. »

“Soon” is when? Jawed doesn’t know. This word to which he clings has a very bitter taste.

His life and his dreams are on hold in Germany. He is waiting for news from Canadian immigration which does not come. “Soon”, he has been promised for nearly a year and a half. In the meantime, he had to brave many storms.

“I look at my children, I think of their dark and unknown future, and the tears run down my face. I feel like we have been saved physically, but destroyed emotionally by a bureaucracy that doesn’t seem to care about us,” he wrote in a heartbreaking letter sent to my colleague Michèle Ouimet and a few other journalists, of which the Globe and Mail posted long excerpts a few days ago¹.

I reached Jawed on the phone. At the end of the line, the voice of a broken man, in the grip of despair. On Christmas Eve, he doesn’t feel like celebrating.

“I am between two worlds…”, repeats the former interpreter. “Just give me an answer!” Soon… Well, as soon as possible. »

Working as an interpreter for the Canadian Army in Afghanistan from 2009 to 2012, Jawed risked his life for Canada. “It definitely put me at high risk. The Taliban consider me to be the eyes and ears of Canadians and coalition forces because I have helped them. »

Jérémie Verville, a veteran of the Canadian Armed Forces who was able to count on Jawed in Kandahar, confirms that the help of interpreters was as crucial as it was risky. “Interpreters face the same risks as us. They were wearing our uniform. […] Without them, I couldn’t have done my job. »

The interpreter’s job is not so much to translate what people say as what they don’t say, which is often more important, he points out. “What Jawed has done for us…I can’t say what would have happened without him. I do not know. But I can say that it was of essential use. »

Today, the former soldier who lives in Quebec supports Jawed in his efforts to settle in Canada in the hope of making things happen.

After collaborating with the Canadian military, Jawed hoped that the Canadian government could in turn help him flee Afghanistan to rebuild his life at home, as he has done for other Afghan interpreters. That dream seemed within reach when he was told one evening in June 2021 that his application had been accepted by Canada. He had to leave Kandahar for Kabul to be closer to the international airport. Objective: to embark with his family towards a new, more peaceful life.

With support from the office of Ontario Liberal MP Marcus Powlowski and a reporter from Globe and Mail who helped Afghan interpreters who collaborated with Canadian media, Jawed and his family had the chance to narrowly escape the hell of the Taliban in August 2021.

But here they are plunged into a purgatory from which he no longer sees the exit.

“The dream is fading away,” he told me.

His escape was incredible to say the least. After leaving Afghanistan, the former interpreter found himself stranded in Ukraine, forced to flee on foot Kyiv under the bombs with his pregnant wife, their four children and six family members. With pain and misery, they went to Poland and then to Germany, where the reception services were overwhelmed by the influx of Ukrainian refugees. “There was no more room in the refugee camps. It was full everywhere. So we had to manage for ten days to sleep in a tent. »

Left stranded by the Canadian government, Jawed tried to obtain asylum in Germany. But as he already has a file in process in Canada, his request was refused. He therefore finds himself “between two worlds”, with no other social safety net than charity.

While waiting for a response from the Canadian government, Jawed lives with his family 300 km from Berlin in a house rented for him by a Canadian who was touched by a report on his story, he explains to me. If he has nothing but gratitude for all the “angels” crossed on his path without whom he could not have held out until then, he would like to be able to fly on his own, without having to depend on charity.

“I just want someone to get me out of this limbo. It is painful. I can’t take it anymore… My children can’t continue their studies. I can not work. I am stuck. »

Federal MP Marcus Powlowski shares his exasperation. As early as December 2020, eight months before the fall of Kabul, he was among those who alerted the office of the Minister of Immigration to the urgency of coming to the aid of Afghan interpreters.

“Jawed was one of the first on our list. We followed his journey from Kandahar to Kabul then to Ukraine and Germany. We must have sent well over 100 follow-up emails. And it’s extremely frustrating that he’s still not in Canada. »

How to explain these delays?

Even with a consent form signed by the principal concerned authorizing the disclosure of information in his file, Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada (IRCC) is stingy with comments. “For safety and security reasons, we cannot discuss Afghan cases, even with consent,” an IRCC spokesperson emailed me.

While being well aware that there may be privacy and security issues, MP Marcus Powlowski finds this excessive opacity and counterproductive. “It would certainly be nice if there was a bit more transparency from IRCC in cases like this. If we understood what the problem is, it would be easier. »

For Jawed, who dreams of being able to go from surviving to living, the wait is unbearable. “Physically we are safe and sound in Germany. But mentally, no one can guess what is going on in our head. »

When offered hope of a future in Canada, Jawed went to the bazaar in Kabul to buy pants for himself and his daughters, he says. He had heard that it was the “normal” way to dress in the country. He wanted to be ready for his new life.

It was shortly before the fall of Kabul, in August 2021. Almost a year and a half later, the new pants are still intact. You could wear them right now, the father has already suggested to his daughters. “No, dad! We will wear our new clothes in Canada. »

I asked Jawed if he still had hope. For the new pants, but above all for the brand new free life he would like for his children.

A long sigh preceded his response. “Yes, I still have hope that one day things will change. The same way we survived physically, maybe one day we can survive mentally too…”

He repeated these words as if to convince himself: “I still have hope. »

Her biggest dream would be for her daughters to become doctors and one day be able to take care of Afghan women and girls, who are more abused than never when the Taliban have just forbidden them access to the‘education, from‘primary school.

Already, when he heard the Taliban announce Tuesday that Afghan universities were now forbidden to girls, he made a new promise: he will do everything so that his daughters can go to university. Even if it means depriving yourself of food. “I won’t give up,” he wrote to me on Wednesday morning.

MP Marcus Powlowski also remains hopeful of one day being able to welcome Jawed and his family to Canada. “I would be really, really happy if he ended up moving to Thunder Bay in my riding! It would be the perfect place for him. »

“This story will make a good film, one day…”, he says.

It may not be a Christmas movie. But a moving film that hopefully ends well. With an Afghan father with misty eyes in front of his daughters wearing brand new pants, now a little too short for them.