International Women’s Day: “One woman can change the world”

My name is Fatima Rahmati. I was born in Afghanistan, the land of mountains and spices and pomegranates and tea and the most hospitable people you will ever meet.

But sadly, Afghanistan has also been a land that has endured many wars over the last four decades. In 1982 because of a war, my family was forced to flee Afghanistan. We fled to neighbouring India, where we were declared refugees. A year later Australia opened its doors to us and we crossed oceans to arrive here and began a new life.

Years later I moved to New York and only recently I moved back to Australia after living in New York for the last 20 years, where the bulk of my work and my life focused on human rights advocacy.

My work didn’t end in New York though. Since moving back to Australia, I have joined the Asylum Seekers Centre, an organisation I believe is vital and a lifeline to people seeking asylum. And while for immigration or political purposes we say “people seeking asylum” what they are truly seeking is a place to call home.

As I reflected on what I’d like to say in acknowledgment of International Women’s Day, I remembered the words of a phenomenal writer named Key Ballah, she said: ‪“To the women in my life, you are water. I need you, and I am made up almost entirely of you.”

I thought it would be fitting to share a short piece I wrote a few years ago about my mother, because she is my water, I need her and I am made up almost entirely of her…

I remember being maybe 9 or 10 years old and hearing my mother’s shrieks. Have you ever heard someone sob so deeply that it shakes your core? I was 9 or 10 and for the first time in years my mother heard her mothers voice. You see, we were refugees. My father and mother had to flee our homeland. In the middle of the night. With three children. And two suitcases. Because of war. Little did they know they would never see their families or their home again. My mother didn’t know she would end up in Australia. She didn’t know my father would pass away a month after us arriving here.

She didn’t know she would have to sacrifice her family for her family.

35 years ago we didn’t have internet. Or cell phones. Or even the capacity to call a country like Afghanistan from our home phone. We had to use a pay phone and that meant saving enough money and converting it to coins to feed the pay phone as my mother spent $20 for a 4 minute conversation. Hearing my mothers shrieks and cries.. it is a moment that haunts me to this day.

I couldn’t at the time truly comprehend the heaviness and pain of what my mother had to endure. Now, as a mother myself not only do I comprehend her heaviness and pain but the memories that haunt me seem to be given new life as we continue to see women, children and families suffer a fate similar to the one we did.

My mother was raised in a village in Afghanistan. She had limited schooling, having only attended school to the 5th grade. She lived with a disability after suffering such severe burns to both her feet as a small child that they became a tangled web of bones and skin that were never undone. As an adult, she was widowed.

I can proudly say, we were fortunate enough to bear witness as she learned to read and write and to speak a new language. I remember she would take our school books. The elementary ones and she would sound out the words.

She still struggles with her feet today and she never remarried. Her love affair was with us. Her children.

As a young child, though, I had a strange sense of embarrassment. I didn’t see anyone else whose mother could hardly read or write. I didn’t know anyone who had a mother that was widowed. Who didn’t have a father around. And nobody I knew had a mother who limped and struggled with their feet the way mine did.

I never voiced it to my mum, never made the unease I felt obvious to her. Even as children we knew enough to know not to do that. But on the inside the anxiety of already being an outsider coupled with a mother who was different to the others, made for many moments where I wanted to shrink.

However, it all changed. It all changed! Now, every single day I use her courage and resilience and strength to fuel all I do. Now, I see the gem that she is. Now, I can’t stop telling people that indeed my mother is the most gracious. Most humble. And most resilient person I know.

My mother has never given to herself. She doesn’t know how to do it. She has spent all her years giving to others. She raised three children alone under circumstances no one should ever have too. And she did it well. She taught me to be kind without doing or being anything but herself. She taught me to never give up, by fighting for us every day despite it meaning she never saw her mother again. She taught me that one woman can change the world by pouring love into others and changing their world. I love you, mama. Thank you.