Former Afghan Surgeon Makes Strenuous Multi-Continent Journey to U.S., Only to Find Lack of Opportunity

by Hadi Ebrahimi

In the beginning of 2021, Sabir (whose name has been changed to protect his safety) was a surgeon in Afghanistan with a wife and a 4-year-old son. Following his graduation from a medical university, he worked in a hospital and ran his own pharmacy business. What he thought would be a smooth future was disrupted when the Taliban retook power in Afghanistan half a year later in August 2021.

Once the Taliban took control of the country, Afghanistan's previous government collapsed, and in Sabir's city, the rate of crime and doctor kidnappings increased due to doctors' high wages and a lack of government personnel. Two of Sabir's colleagues were kidnapped, and one of his professors was killed.

Fearing for his own life, Sabir decided to leave the country. With little clarity on where he could go next, he decided to try to get a humanitarian visa from the Brazilian embassy in Iran, which shares a border with Afghanistan, and then eventually make his way to the United States. He had heard a lot about the United States and its reputation for being a land of freedom and opportunity, so he hoped to be able to one day live his own American dream.

The Initial Journey to Obtain a Humanitarian Visa

Sabir paid a significant amount of money to obtain a visa to travel from Afghanistan to Iran, which he received after waiting a few weeks — but his family didn't have passports, so he had to leave them and journey to Iran on his own.

"I thought I would go to America and then invite my family to the U.S.," Sabir said, in an interview conducted in Dari that was translated into English.

He went to Iran in November 2021, three months after the collapse of the previous Afghan government. It was his first time traveling to Iran, and he didn't know anyone there. He was immediately greeted with humiliating comments from the Iranian border guards.

"The police gave me a dirty look and called me 'poor Afghani,'" Sabir said. "I told the police I have a legal visa, and you should respect me, but the police told me to get lost."

This continued in other places as well. Sabir described the racism he experienced, recalling, "In the bus, public places, offices, and everywhere else, I could see the humiliating actions of Iranian people against me. Whenever they recognized my nationality, they would start throwing bad comments at me."

Sabir spent a few days in Tehran, the capital of Iran, then applied for a humanitarian visa at the Brazilian embassy. Though he had thought the visa process would last only a month, it lasted almost four. By the time he received it, he had spent a large chunk of his savings, but he was able to purchase a plane ticket to travel to Brazil.

The Dangerous Journey Across South America

Once Sabir arrived in Brazil, he met one of his old friends, Mahmood (whose name has also been changed to protect his identity). Mahmood hosted Sabir for a few days, until he found a smuggler to get Sabir to the U.S. Along the way, Sabir was introduced to three other young Afghan men who would take the journey in the same vehicle.

"I didn't know the smuggler, but I had no choice but to trust him," Sabir said. "I thought it would be better to have fellow travelers on this journey; we actually became friends after greeting one another."

Sabir and his new friends started their journey to the U.S., with no idea of the dangerous challenges they would be facing, though they knew to safeguard their money.

"It was not safe to have money in my pocket, so I hid my money in the corners of my luggage, in the middle of a notebook, and even in my socks," Sabir recalled. "All of my fellow travelers did the same."

After nearly half a day of riding in old cars with no air-conditioning, Peru was their first stop. Along the way, the smuggler told them horror stories about people who had been arrested by the police.

"The smuggler told me police will torture us if they arrest us," Sabir shared. "By telling these stories, the smuggler wanted us to obey what he said."

Under this kind of coercion, the refugees had no choice but to agree when the smuggler asked them to leave the vehicle and travel by foot for a few hours, making sure to keep a low profile as they did.

"The smuggler pointed to a mountain and wanted us to walk there," Sabir said. "The smuggler told us it is not safe to take our luggage by ourselves; he assured us that we would get our luggage at the mountain."

When they finally reached the mountain, the smuggler brought them their luggage, but there was something suspicious: The luggage had been opened. They soon discovered that most of their money had gone missing and began to yell at the smuggler, demanding their missing goods. Yet the smuggler took no responsibility and told them he would leave them at the border if they continued arguing.

"We knew the smuggler stole our money, but we couldn't do anything," Sabir said. "We lost our trust in the smuggler on the first day. He was so dangerous; I am sure if the smuggler knew we had money in our pockets, he would have killed us and emptied our pockets."

After losing trust in the smuggler, they escaped in the night and managed to find another one.

"We didn't trust the new smuggler either, but at least he hadn't stolen our money," said Sabir.

A Route Fraught With Thousands of Risks

The refugees passed through nine countries; after Peru, they entered Ecuador, then Colombia, Panama, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, Guatemala, and, finally, Mexico.

"Every country has its own challenges and dangers; they are like nightmares for me," Sabir said. "If I described the details of every step of the journey, it would be a thick, tragic book."

To continue his journey, Sabir had to bribe corrupt police officers more than 20 times along the way, in nearly every country.

"We did not actually pay; the police officers were getting our money by force," Sabir explained. "Every time we faced a police officer on the route, they searched our pockets and got a part of our money. Some of them even searched our shoes and socks to see if we hid any money there."

There were other dangers too. Gangs, cartels, and paramilitary forces are common risks for migrants who pass through this area. Many also die along the way from snake bites, exposure to the elements, or drowning. In Panama, Sabir had to trek for three days.

"Due to a fear of thieves, we had to walk a lot to pass the forest in Panama as quickly as possible. I had to sleep on the dry floor with nothing underneath," Sabir recalled. "I was afraid of snakes too. One of the fellow travelers got stunned by a snake, and they told me stories about people who died from snake bites."

At one point, when Sabir was riding a crowded bus in Colombia, he felt shortness of breath.

"Almost 60 people stood in the bus aisle. I wasn't able to take a breath; we were so tightly packed my chest couldn't even extend to get more oxygen," Sabir said. "I felt like I was dying because of shortness of breath. A young man in front of me noticed my situation and pushed me through the window, so I could breathe a little."

When they finally arrived in Mexico, Sabir went to the police station and introduced himself. They provided him a paper that allowed him to stay there temporarily or pass through Mexico legally. After two days, he and his friends headed to the border. After paying money to another smuggler, they climbed the wall and passed through the border, finally entering the U.S.

Facing Insult and Difficulty in the United States

After this long route and a lot of trekking, he and his friends entered America."It wasn't like what I expected," Sabir said. He introduced himself to a U.S. border patrol agent, who asked him to wait until a car could transport him to a refugee camp.

"When the police called his colleague to send a car to pick us up, he called us a piece of shit," said Sabir.

Sabir compared the camp to a jail that lacked adequate hygiene or sufficient food. After staying there for 10 days, he headed to Washington State in August 2022, nearly a year after the Taliban took over in Afghanistan.

Upon arriving in Washington, Sabir was supported by a resettlement agency for a couple of months. As is standard practice with many refugees, the agency provided food and shelter the night he arrived and assisted him in getting food stamps and cash assistance from the Washington State Department of Social and Health Services. Sabir's main issue, however, was that he didn't have a work permit, and the benefits he was receiving weren't enough. Furthermore, he could not apply to most jobs, much less continue his medical career.

"I had thought that after arriving to the United States, my problems would be over, but it was just the start of a new story," Sabir said. "I just wanted to have a job to make money, to pay for some medical or pharmacy courses. I know I have to pass some exams and get some certificates to work in hospitals or pharmacies, but I can't afford the payment for courses."

Instead, Sabir began working in a kitchen as a dishwasher. Though he is not getting paid enough, he has no other choice.

"I know there is nothing wrong with working as a dishwasher, but I didn't come this dangerous and long way to end up working in a kitchen," Sabir said.

Sabir's asylum case will be heard in court in the middle of 2025. Until then, he will not be able to invite his family to the United States, and if he were to leave, he would not be allowed to reenter.

"It is difficult that I haven't seen my wife and my kid since last year, but it is worse that I can't see them in the near future," Sabir shared. "I have to wait two years for my court case, then I will get asylum. There will be a long process to get my permanent residency and finally be eligible to invite my family."

Now, Sabir is living with some of his friends in Kent, because he can't rent a house on his own. He has no official address.

"We are four individuals in a two-bedroom house, so I don't have any privacy," he said.

Along with some of his Afghan friends, Wahid Bihruz runs Kabul Washington Association, a nonprofit organization that supports new Afghan arrivals who come to Washington State. "The Afghans who are coming through the Mexico border face a lot of difficulties, because they don't have immigration documents," said Bihruz. "We try to refer them to resources that we have contact with, but the best help for them would be providing them with immigration documents and permission to work. If they work, they can find self-sufficiency without being dependent on other organizations."

Editors' Note: The writer is a volunteer with Kabul Washington Association.

This piece was written with the support of Vee Hua 華婷婷, interim managing editor of the Emerald.

Hadi Ebrahimi is a former columnist and journalist from Afghanistan. He has been living in the United States since mid-2022. He had been working for several newspapers back home in Afghanistan. Most of his articles are written in Dari. Find him on Twitter at @HadiEbr1995.

Featured Image: A woman waits on a bus to be processed during an evacuation at Hamid Karzai International Airport, Kabul, Afghanistan, Aug. 22, 2021. The appearance of U.S. Department of Defense (DoD) visual information does not imply or constitute DoD endorsement. (U.S. Marine Corps Photo: Sgt. Isaiah Campbell)