“I will tell you that considering the path I have taken after childhood, I will tell you that childhood was the simplest moment in life. Those were beautiful moments because, in fact, from those things that I remember... In Afghanistan, we... I lived with my father's mother and my aunt. We lived in Kabul, and there was a war going on at that time. It was 1984-1990. From such vivid moments, for example, I remember that when there were heavy shelling, we would then, in the middle of the night, with my grandmother, you know, as if we were preparing for some carnival. Then we would go out, put a ladder against the wall of the house, climb to the roof, and watch everything burning around us because there was a fire somewhere, such that... And then, in broad daylight, we would walk around, looking for remnants of shells, bullets, and such. We would collect them and then play with them... There were times when there was no food at all, and we would buy dried bread from wealthy people to soak it in tea with sugar, and it was very delicious. Around that time, we invented ice cream, which we made ourselves. We would take snow, sugar, and you would eat it, it was incredibly tasty. In Ukraine, this is impossible because of Chornobyl, and the snow here is not very clean. In Afghanistan, it is wonderful. But you know, from such vivid moments; I remember some, probably two, no — three, three. The first one is kites. It's something incredible. I still... If I were holding that kite in my hands right now, made of that fabric, I think I would cry. Because... What was happening in Afghanistan? We would take, you see... There were whole festivals. That is, five or six courtyards would gather, and we would fly kites, and the winner would be the one that remained in the air. Why so? Because when we flew them, we would then cut their strings. How did it happen? Before flying the kite, we wind this string between the trees. Then we break glass, basically shatter it, throw it into paint, mix it, put on gloves, take the paint in our hand, and smear the string with it. So the string becomes very sharp. If you pull it abruptly, you'll cut your hand. And the one with the stronger string wins. And when you fly them, you have to know how to control the kite's nose... know how to steer it so that... when another kite is flying, you bring it closer and cut its string. This, actually, is a whole ritual. You know, in my childhood, I could only be lured home with the promise of sweet water — just water with sugar — and that they brought and gifted me a kite. I can't express the number of wonderful moments in life when I held a new kite. I remember one very vivid moment. It was when behind our house, there were big, big trees, the sound of trees, the wind was blowing, and no one was home, and I decided to fly this kite. I launched it, and the sky started to darken a bit. It was a moment of catharsis because of the strong wind, and you're holding this kite. There's no one at home. You're scared and it's beautiful. You're little. Well, I was happy. That's the first moment.
The second moment — I had an uncle named Semat. He was the eldest in the family. In Afghanistan, every morning, around four in the morning, it seemed, they broadcasted lists of those who died. From the war. The announcer simply read out the surnames. One day, my uncle Semat, he loved me very much, incredibly loved me. We had a tradition. He said, 'I will kiss you right here on the throat, don't let anyone touch this spot at all.' When my father came and tried to kiss me — that was it, panic and hysteria, I cried. What are you doing? We made an agreement, you can't. But Semat, he went to play football that evening, the shelling started, and a fragment hit him in the chin, partially blowing it off. They tried to save him all night, and by morning, he passed away. I remember, I remember very well, we buried him near the mountain. Down there was a cemetery, a graveyard. I remember that I didn't cry. I remember standing by the Afghan flag that was above the grave, watching people cry, unable to understand why, what was happening there. He had given me, a few days before, a set of prayer beads as a gift. And I lost them. Later, when I realized that Semat was gone, I felt very sad that I had lost them. And, you know, it has been... I was five at the time, it has been 33 years since then, and now I have ordered new prayer beads for myself because I have decided to return to meditation, I will talk about it later. So, for the second time in my life, I will have prayer beads that I strongly desire. That was the second moment.
The third moment was the hardest, I think. That day was very interesting. I remember very well that we had denim suits. In Afghanistan, denim suits were a rarity in those years. They were very valuable. I remember I had such a denim suit, and we only wore it on special occasions. I was dressed in it, and there was a beautiful inscription, 'United States Army', 'US Army'. Now, when I recall it, I think, it was surreal. Anyway, I was dressed in that suit, and for some reason, they even let me eat more chewing gum than usual. We left the yard and walked to the side... We sat in a taxi, heading somewhere. I felt something was wrong as soon as I stepped out of our yard because my grandmother started crying. And my grandmother, Mahol was her name, she was very... You see, she gave birth to thirteen children during the war — scandals, lack of food, she was very strong. She symbolized a magical woman to me because she did magical things, really. And she was crying. Everyone was afraid of her, even my father, whom I was very scared of, even he was afraid of her. Because God forbid you upset Grandma Mahol in any way. She was crying then, and when they put me in the car, as soon as the doors closed, I started crying uncontrollably because I realized they were taking me away. And we drove, I remember, to the airport. We sat in the car for a long time because they wouldn't let us go. Eventually, they barely managed to persuade them to let us go, and we flew.”
