Masomeh’s story; told by Masomeh Etemadi, written by Ella Lambert.
Masomeh’s baby spent his first year in a tent in the Moria refugee camp where, on the coldest nights, their generator cuts out as too many people plug into the limited supply of electricity. “When the winds get up, it doesn’t matter how many blankets you have, it’s impossible to keep warm and my baby doesn’t like being under all of the blankets anyway,” 31-year-old Masomeh relays candidly. “In camp, we have so many problems, but nobody wants to go back, not even if you paid us – Iran was like a prison.”
In 1985, three years before Masomeh was born, her parents fled Afghanistan for Iran, where they built a life for themselves and their daughters. When her parents arrived, they received refugee cards from the UNHCR but, what they did not know is that those cards would render their children stateless for at least the next 30 years. Iran would not recognise them as citizens but, as they were born in Iran, neither would Afghanistan.
To keep their cards, they would have to pay a monthly fee to the state and, as refugees, they would have to pay a further fee every 10 days to have permission to leave the city and move around freely, but at least they were able to work and the children were able to go to school. But, despite being born in Iran, growing up speaking Farsi with an Iranian accent and being educated in Iranian schools, when the time came for Masomeh to go to university, she was still considered a refugee and not entitled to further education. With dreams of studying law and becoming a judge, Masomeh fought for her place and was able to trade her refugee card for a passport which would allow her to study. Yet, when she received her passport, she saw that stamped in blue were the words ‘only for education’ – Masomeh had lost her right to work in Iran. She graduated from university with top marks in Islamic knowledge and law but as a refugee, she would never be able to practice as a lawyer and, as a woman, would never be able to pursue her dream of becoming a judge – what’s more, her refugee status would be inherited by her children and, without her refugee card, they would be denied schooling.
Seeing how a life in Iran would limit her children, Masomeh and her husband made the decision to leave Iran to give their seven-year-old and new-born baby a better future; to give them an education and the right to work in whichever field they choose. So, they left, without knowing where they were headed, rushing towards the Turkish border at high speed, changing cars several times before walking through the Turkish mountains for hours with a child in toe and a newborn in their arms. Then, they were hurried onto a boat full of people and were told that the police were coming. That there was no time to collect their life jackets, setting off into the sea in a heaving rubber dinghy. She realized later, the police weren’t coming, the smugglers had lied to them to fit more people in the boat. Masomeh was so frightened she felt sure they would all die, and all she could hear was the sound of her breath and her heartbeat drumming in her ears.
Thankfully, Masomeh, her husband and her two children touched down safely on dry land and have been living in a tent in Lesbos ever since and despite all the woes of living in a refugee camp, she does not regret the journey for one minute. Masomeh grew up and lived in Iran for over 30 years and in all that time, she couldn’t get a sim card, open a bank account or even leave the city without permission, all because of her Afghani heritage. She has friends in similar circumstances but with Pakistani heritage who received ID cards easily but “in Iran, Afghanis aren’t welcome,” Masomeh explains. “We share a language, religion, traditions and so much history but we face so much discrimination.”
After the fire in the Moria refugee camp in September 2020, Germany pledged to take in 1000 refugees from the camp, and Masomeh and her family were amongst them. Due to the pandemic, they still haven’t received their passports to be able to travel but, after 18 months of living in a tent with several other families, a baby and an 8-year-old, Masomeh can finally look to the future.
After a year without work, Masomeh has now joined the Azadi team, representing the organization on the ground in Lesbos and using her English skills and training as a psychosocial group facilitator to support other refugee women. Since arriving on the island, she has been volunteering with the Red Cross to support other members of the camp. Masomeh has faced adversity at every turn and yet continues to look forward with resilience and optimism. You can see her overwhelming love for her children and determination to give them a brighter future. Masomeh still dreams of becoming a judge one day and her eldest son – well he wants to be an inventor!