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As many of you know, our beloved friend, Mahgul, passed away suddenly after a short illness last week. We and her family are heartbroken, devastated. The community is in shock, not sure quite what we’ll do without this angel in our lives.
We have felt such admiration and respect for her over the past 15 years since she came to the U.S. After her husband was killed by a land mine while collecting firewood near their home in war-torn Afghanistan, she escaped with her seven children—including our dear friends Parwana and Abbas—over the mountains in the back of a cargo truck into Pakistan, where the family lived for 10 years in a refugee community. In 2004, with the help of a U.N. program for Afghan widows, Mahgul bravely moved to the U.S. with her four youngest children. She had $6 to her name.
With her support and encouragement, her children became U.S. citizens, achieved degrees in higher education, and are employed in nursing, education, and solar energy work. Her strong will has paid off, her vision fulfilled.
It was our good fortune to meet Mahgul just one week after the family's arrival. She built a community, one cup of tea at a time, and quickly became a respected leader, helper, and friend to many—including the two of us. She was smart, funny, wise, and kind. Over amazing spreads of her home-cooked feasts, we’d listen to her stories of her beloved homeland—the neighborhoods, people, and natural beauty (in fact, her name means “Moonflower”). We quickly learned the importance of the Farsi word, “bassa”, which means, “Even though that was the best meal I’ve ever had, I can’t possibly eat another bite.” That would not stop Mahgul from piling more Afghan delectables on to our plates.
The family’s desire is for Mahgul to be buried in her homeland, where family, extended family, and a long-established community will commemorate her life and welcome her home. Her children in the U.S. have worked hard, but the costs of Mahgul's repatriation and their travel to the funeral can be too much to shoulder alone. They won’t ask for help, but out of our respect and admiration we feel motivated to ask on their behalf. We know it’s important to lighten the burden of these unexpected expenses while they grieve the loss of their family matriarch who risked so much for them. Donations of any amount will be very helpful to them as they embark on this final journey with their mother and manage the logistics of this life transition.
We also are touched by the recent attack on the Muslim community in New Zealand, where Jenny's sister, K.C., lives. That incident brings awareness, again, of the challenges a person or family faces when following the life path that brings a sense of peace and meaning. We all are feeling the vulnerability of believers and the oppressed right now, and feel inspired to action.
Will you please join us in lending support to this family?
Tashakor. Thank you.
Jenny and Shelby
We have felt such admiration and respect for her over the past 15 years since she came to the U.S. After her husband was killed by a land mine while collecting firewood near their home in war-torn Afghanistan, she escaped with her seven children—including our dear friends Parwana and Abbas—over the mountains in the back of a cargo truck into Pakistan, where the family lived for 10 years in a refugee community. In 2004, with the help of a U.N. program for Afghan widows, Mahgul bravely moved to the U.S. with her four youngest children. She had $6 to her name.
With her support and encouragement, her children became U.S. citizens, achieved degrees in higher education, and are employed in nursing, education, and solar energy work. Her strong will has paid off, her vision fulfilled.
It was our good fortune to meet Mahgul just one week after the family's arrival. She built a community, one cup of tea at a time, and quickly became a respected leader, helper, and friend to many—including the two of us. She was smart, funny, wise, and kind. Over amazing spreads of her home-cooked feasts, we’d listen to her stories of her beloved homeland—the neighborhoods, people, and natural beauty (in fact, her name means “Moonflower”). We quickly learned the importance of the Farsi word, “bassa”, which means, “Even though that was the best meal I’ve ever had, I can’t possibly eat another bite.” That would not stop Mahgul from piling more Afghan delectables on to our plates.
The family’s desire is for Mahgul to be buried in her homeland, where family, extended family, and a long-established community will commemorate her life and welcome her home. Her children in the U.S. have worked hard, but the costs of Mahgul's repatriation and their travel to the funeral can be too much to shoulder alone. They won’t ask for help, but out of our respect and admiration we feel motivated to ask on their behalf. We know it’s important to lighten the burden of these unexpected expenses while they grieve the loss of their family matriarch who risked so much for them. Donations of any amount will be very helpful to them as they embark on this final journey with their mother and manage the logistics of this life transition.
We also are touched by the recent attack on the Muslim community in New Zealand, where Jenny's sister, K.C., lives. That incident brings awareness, again, of the challenges a person or family faces when following the life path that brings a sense of peace and meaning. We all are feeling the vulnerability of believers and the oppressed right now, and feel inspired to action.
Will you please join us in lending support to this family?
Tashakor. Thank you.
Jenny and Shelby
Organizer and beneficiary
Ghulam Ayub
Beneficiary