The best version of history is when people share their story.
This morning I got to learn about what happened in Afghanistan in the 90s. Our cab driver in Stockholm originally from Afghanistan got to share the drama the country underwent, the terror of the war, the every day danger, the feelings one get when there are bombs exploding around the corner and how much the people got to suffer. He had to immigrate to Russia for a safer life and it happened to then go to Sweden where he has been living for 17 years.
I asked if Sweden feels like home now. He said never. He always thinks of the home country, the celebrations they used to have in Afghanistan, and that here he doesn’t feel the festivities, the culture, the way people are. His heart is still there and most probably will always be.
Because of all the run, he couldn’t build a family, nor have kids. He always had to work hard to be able to survive and it happened to not have time for anything else. He was fluent in English, learnt Russian and Swedish as well.
Despite all the circumstances, he seemed happy with his safe life, the fact that he can work and is alive.
Yet another lesson to reflect upon and just be grateful for today.