The only thing I still possess from Afghanistan is my brother’s prayer chain. I wear it day and night. He was the first person in my family to be murdered. I shall never take this chain off my neck. When I was 15 the Taliban killed my second brother. Then I fled and at first I was two and a half years in Pakistan. Alone. ¶ The flight here lasted a total of four months. We were almost always on the road at night, sometimes in small groups, sometimes alone, sometimes with a hundred or more persons. I don’t even know which countries I travelled through. I thought I’d never reach my destination. But somehow I did it and got to Germany. This is where my oldest brother lives. All the others, my sisters and my parents, are almost certainly no longer alive. ¶ At sometime in the future, when I am properly healthy again, I shall probably write a book about everything I had to go through. Luckily I have found a family again with my brother, and can even go to school once more. It could be like a second life if only I was sure I’ll be allowed to stay. The thought of being sent back to Afghanistan makes me sick to my soul.