Homeward bound
After seven years of unsafe labour abroad, Bashir returns to Afghanistan to reclaim the last few years of his childhood and reunite with his family.
Bashir stepped off the bus into a tangled knot of people, each jostling to retrieve their belongings.
Just as his bus disembarked, another pulled up, with dozens more travelers unloading themselves and their families. Bashir himself had only a small backpack, which he swung over his shoulder to gently push his way through the crowd and chaos, straight into the reception centre.
In the near distance behind him, just over the border he crossed this morning, was Iran – and the memories of a few dangerous years – which he hoped to leave behind.
In front of him, drawing closer with each step: Afghanistan. Home.
Afghanistan’s western border sees around 3,000 crossings every day. Anywhere between 20 and 55 of them are unaccompanied minors, separated from an adult who can care for them and their safety.
Bashir had been one of them, migrating into Iran seven years prior.
“I was only 10 years old,” he recalls. “I went with a big group of my relatives, including my mother.” His father had passed away years ago, buried near his home in rural Herat province. “I didn't really understand why we were going there."
Like many other families, Bashir’s relatives had left Afghanistan seeking better economic opportunity. But as undocumented migrants, Bashir’s family had few opportunities for formal employment. Days crawled by; their savings dwindled. Bashir’s mother became desperate.
“I had to go to work,” Bashir says. “I could not continue school. We did not have any papers, and we did not have any money.”
“First I worked in a supermarket, then I started working in construction. It was so hard.”
Construction work was tough, especially for Bashir’s young body. Each day, he performed dangerous, unregulated labor with little food, water or breaks. He pushed wheelbarrows of cement. He moved bricks. He wore no safety equipment; not even gloves.
Bashir remembers the day of his deportation, and that it began like any other. He put on his only pair of shoes and joined 10 other boys – all of them under 18 – at the daily construction site.
“But that day,” he says, the memory crisp, “the authorities came to our construction site and rounded us up. They put handcuffs on us and took us to a small jail at the border.”
Luckily, his mother had time to collect a few of his things, passing them off through a policeman. But Bashir was not allowed to see his family.
“The next day, they put us on a bus back to Afghanistan,” Bashir says, “and now I’m here.”
UNICEF case workers were quick to receive him at the border. He was registered and given a phone so he could tell his mother he was safe.
But traveling alone is dangerous for children. They face unsafe travel conditions or exploitation by smugglers. At their destination, they may be forced into child labour, subjected to human trafficking, or put at risk of violence and exploitation. They often miss out on education and proper medical care.
These compounded challenges can have lasting physical and psychological effects. Bashir – absent from his home country nearly half his life – had missed out on a lot.
“I was very far from many close relatives… especially my father,” he recalls.
“His grave is here in Afghanistan, you know. But I never got to visit him.”
A short time at the border and Bashir moves to the 170-bed Guzara Transit Centre with a few other children. This centre, situated in Herat city, operated by UNICEF and partners – with support from the European Union – provides a safe place to rest, take a shower, change clothes, eat a hot meal and play sports to decompress.
Bashir also speaks with a psychosocial counsellor, so he can talk about what he went through in a supportive environment. Trained facilitators conduct group sessions, educating children on the risks of migration and making a plan to help them reintegrate.
While Bashir enjoys a friendly football match, social workers trace his family. On average, tracing and reunification takes just one or two days. For Bashir, it was less than 12 hours.
This year, through UNICEF’s partnership with the European Union, more than 1,000 unaccompanied minors have been reunited with families and caregivers across the country. Luckily, Bashir's family lives nearby, so his grandfather Sultan Ahmad made rapid arrangements to come see him.
Throwing open the transit centre gates, Bashir’s grandfather spread his arms wide.
With tears welling at the corners of his eyes, mumbling prayers and gratitude for the reunion, he embraced Bashir with palpable affection and a warm smile.
“I have not seen Bashir in eight years,” he gushes.
“Bashir has changed so much, but I am so happy to see him. I am happy he is home.”
Bashir tries to hide a grin. He is happy too, but tries to maintain his teenage stoicism.
“I will not go back to Iran,” says Bashir. “I plan to go back to school here in Afghanistan, and to live with my uncles and grandfather,” he muses, “and I will finally get to visit my father.”
