A heavy stone fell from the hearts of both when they found each other. A sense of belonging, of not being completely alone anymore, was how they described the feelings that milled about.

Unfortunately, the answer to each of the brothers’ first question on the whereabouts of the rest of the family was that neither knew anything. However, they had found each other, and that provided some hope. 

With the reunion’s glow waning after a few days, reality came barging through the door. Mansour learned that, while “luck” had graced his life after Peshawar, Ali had been less fortunate. Sold into slavery and days of rough existence, he survived on barely a couple of dollars a day as a stateless person in the raw streets of Stavropol.

Hounded by local police and disgruntled Russian youth alike, Ali had had every bone in his body broken, had cigarettes and broken bottles tear his skin, and was living in constant fear. Why? As a stateless person, he was a meal ticket for the police, arresting and torturing him while awaiting a fellow Afghan’s arrival to pay his “release fee” – a fee that placed Ali in spiraling debt, bringing him back to work in the very streets where he would get arrested again.   

A rush of guilt hit Mansour, knowing that he had made it to safety, and his brother had made it to hell. Nonetheless, the fact that they were now connected gave both hope, and allowed Mansour to begin helping his brother.

Around this time, the three of us began planning on how to make it to Russia to physically reunite the two after all these years, well knowing the difficulties it would entail. 

We had no money, no experience, and no contacts, but lots of ideas and a will to succeed in reuniting the two.

Best,

David and Christopher