Far from home, alone.

I don’t remember when it was i first saw something die, but i can bet you it was a goat, being slaughtered by the “Dehar” of my village for one of our religious festivals. And though i probably made little of it at the time, given that this was in the rural Hindu-Kush, where one is exposed to animal slaughter at a young age, ever since my family left Pakistan, such memories have effected me in a profound manner. Now some of you may be thinking that, given that I am from Pakistan, I am muslim, but i am not, my people are called the Kalash, and we follow a faith that, for us, has no name, it is just how things are done, or were done…
For now, like the goats that i vividly remember bleeding from their necks upon the black earth, my people are dying, our culture is fading, and everyday more and more Kalash forget the bem songs that make us who we are, and turn to Islam just so that the people in the nearby towns will hire them. Others, like my parents, are among the few that venture permanently into the impure world beyond our valleys (by pure, i mean in a spiritual sense, being in a space that has been made sacred through tradition and ritual).
Considering my origins, I know I am lucky to have spent most of my life in America, to have received an education where I could read and write in any language, especially English. And yet I feel empty, hopeless in the face of history. I just don’t want to live in a world without my people, even if they are far away, I still want to go back and see them thrive, to leave the grey and noisy cities here and be back in chitral, living under that shadow of beautiful holy mountain Tirich Mir, which is home to the spirits. Sometimes, i have thought of going back there, and just sitting at the top until i freeze, wearing my traditional clothes, but going home alone is no option. My father is a Christian now, so is my mother, they both sacrificed who they were for small spiritual comforts, and i feel so isolated, I will never convert to anything, but I feel like am being suffocated, like I am a small, insignificant metaphor for my people. I sent out my applications to college recently, but if i am to go, I will need a full ride, as my parents will only pay for a Christian university. And so, I have ordered a helium tank, and though I hope I don’t have to use it, I will if the alternative is stripping away my identity, or having to be the only one left. And to so many of you on here, I have no right to discourage you from doing anything, but at least be glad that your culture might outlive you.