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© UN Photo/Eric Kanalstein
Rahel Saya
Can you tell us a little about yourself?
I’m 38 years old and was born in Behsud, in Afghanistan's Wardak province. I have a degree in midwifery. I’m the first of seven children. Fortunately, I married the man of my dreams, Ali Jafari, and for the past 15 years we have shared a life full of love, affection, and mutual support. We have three children: two daughters and a son, each of whom, to me, is the most beautiful being in the world. They are intelligent, adorable, capable, and independent. I grew up in a family with an intellectual father and a loving, caring mother. These values they imparted gave me the courage and determination to face the challenges that came my way. They enabled me to emancipate myself and use my abilities. I’ve been able to change not only my own life, but that of my family and the people around me.
How do you feel when you look back, particularly at your experience as a woman leading a major health institute in Afghanistan?
The greatest pride of my career in Afghanistan is to have been able to give so many girls the opportunity to study and work in the health sector. I’ve always believed that education and access to the health professions are essential to the advancement and empowerment of women. Witnessing these young women embark on an educational journey and achieve their dreams brings me indescribable joy, and knowing that I have contributed to this transformation gives even more meaning to my experience.
What hardships did you encounter in your daily life and work in Afghanistan? Were there any moments in particular that affected you?
Living through 20 years of a republic was an incredible opportunity for the Afghan people, who were able to exercise democracy and embark on a path of progress and development. But I must sadly acknowledge that while many tried to be open-minded and democratic, at least on the surface, most people were basically content with a traditional life, a patriarchal society. This put a multitude of obstacles in women’s way. We found ourselves facing enormous challenges, and we were left feeling disoriented and frustrated. But we didn’t give up. We continued to fight, hoping to pave the way to progress and success for our daughters, so that they may live in a better world.
The roots of patriarchal society, the lack of equality and rights between men and women, and tribal and racial beliefs have been real stumbling blocks that have discouraged Afghan women. Since the fall of the government in 2021, these difficulties have become a tangle of knots so complex that we just feel trapped. But we never lose hope. The struggle for justice and equality continues, despite everything.
How did you feel when you were forced to leave Afghanistan?
I was invaded by a deep sense of sadness, a pain that overwhelmed me and that, three years later, still hangs over me like a shadow. I’ve often wondered if I will ever be able to return to my beloved homeland. I’ve had to face emigration twice in my life, and each time, the pain was more intense, leaving me with a sense of loss that’s beyond words. I sincerely believe that emigrating is one of the most heartbreaking experiences a person can go through, one that leaves a deep mark on the heart and soul.
And how did it feel to arrive in Italy? How did you cope with such a radical change?
I felt extraordinarily welcome here—I was received with incredible kindness and warmth by institutions, people, and my Italian friends. Their gestures touched me deeply. I also discovered a world where freedom, gender equality, and human dignity are fundamental values. I was left speechless by my Italian friends’ involvement in creating a normal environment around our family, by the absence of discrimination, by people’s sincerity and loyalty.
But starting from scratch at the age of 35 with three children to look after really put me to the test. I felt very vulnerable. When I lost my father, who was a rock for me, I felt even more helpless, sadder. I felt lost, as if a part of me had gone with him. But despite the difficulties, I decided to commit myself to getting through this new adventure with determination, to give my children a better future.
The obstacles of emigration can seem terribly difficult, but if you manage to overcome just one, even just once, everything else becomes easier.
How did your integration into Italian society go? What difficulties have you had to face?
I’ve been living here for almost three years with three young children. Starting from scratch was a huge challenge. At first, I struggled with myself—as if I were resisting the idea of learning a new language and relating to people from this new culture in everyday life. For months, I focused on the issue of women and Afghanistan, which slowed down the process of integrating into Italian society. Personal difficulties and the pain I was carrying within me also contributed to this slowness. My greatest difficulty was the sense of strangeness I felt towards the Italian culture and language. Everything was so new to me. By accepting the different facets of Italian culture and learning the language, I was able to overcome this, and little by little the difficulties began to fade. It wasn’t easy, but I managed in the end.
Compared to life in Afghanistan, what was the biggest change you experienced here in Italy?
I’ve never really known psychological security and tranquility in Afghanistan. As a Hazara woman (1), I faced two major problems: I sometimes experienced psychological and emotional insecurity for being a woman, and other times I felt physical and spiritual vulnerability as a Hazara. But here, people treat me with respect. Like a human being.
What was your first success in your new life?
Passing the final exam of the annual training course I was taking, which was conducted entirely in Italian. All my Italian classmates applauded and hugged me. During that year of study, I had to deal with a myriad of problems that seemed like they would never end. But I still managed to pass my exam in spite of everything, which meant a great deal to me.
What impact has emigration had on your identity as a woman and a worker?
Emigration has enriched my life, brought me knowledge, experience, and a new maturity. This transformation has enabled me to become a fuller, more authentic version of myself. I am constantly thinking about how to create a successful business here in Italy and how, through this business, I might offer employment opportunities to many women, both in Afghanistan and here. I dream of helping to create a better future for us all.
What aspects of Afghan culture have you retained, and what elements of Italian culture have you adopted?
I’ve kept the values of Afghan culture close to my heart—hospitality, the celebration of holidays and birthdays, the traditional music, the delicious food. I will continue to do so with pride. At the same time, I’ve happily welcomed the openness and sincerity of the Italian people, learning to live in a simple and straightforward way.
If you could send a message to other women who have had to emigrate, what would you tell them?
To be patient and strong. The obstacles of emigration can seem terribly difficult, but if you manage to overcome just one, even just once, everything else becomes easier.
Is there anything you wish the world knew about the migrant experience?
A migrant is a person without a homeland. Even if the years go by and they manage to integrate fully into their new community, their heart continues to beat for their homeland—they will never forget it. Migrants move hoping for a better life, leaving behind memories, affection, and deep ties with their country. Don’t judge them harshly. Their choice is often one of sacrifice and courage.
Note:
Hazara: an ethnic minority living in Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Iran.
This investigation was carried out with the support of the AGEE - Alliance for Gender Equality in Europe.
