It was late afternoon , me and my mother were preparing for dinner. It was a special day for us, my father’s birthday and we were preparing one of his favorite dishes. A sudden knock on our door turned our happiness into an urgent need to move out again.
Being a Uyghur, I have realized that we don’t have a home. No matter how hard we work, no matter if we live an honest life, it doesn’t matter if we live in a house but we can’t call any place our home. For Uyghurs, living in a house is same as living on streets. Where anyone can come and pick us up just to abandon us once again.
Though, we have our own country East Turkestan which has been under Chinese occupation since 1949 and a false name Xinjiang has been plastered on it. In order to continue its occupation, Beijing started its strike hard campaigns which destroys our mosques, culture, killing our people and is backing the silent genocide of our community. We people are forced to flea our own homes, our own land.
That day my father entered our house in UAE, telling us that a Uyghur man has been detained by the police. He was tensed and started calling other members of our community. After a week of careful discussions , it was decided that we must leave this place. Hearing this, all the memories of my last journey clouded my mind. Once again furniture was sold off, essentials were packed, friends were waved bye and duas were made to get another chance at life.
While families were singled out, my mother again handed me a mysterious bottle and told me to drink it if the circumstances demanded. This time our path was more dangerous because our guides were no other than the Human Traffickers. People who smuggle human beings and primarily sex slaves into other countries. Our fears were on its heights when we saw a family losing their daughter.
There was a family traveling with us, they didn’t had enough money and in order to get away they were forced to trade one of their three daughters. She was just 16 years old and in her hand I saw that same mysterious bottle , identical to mine. Her mother’s helpless eyes and the silence throughout the journey, still gives me sleepless nights.
It took us 15 days to finally reach our destination. In those 15 days we have been herded like sheep, slept in stables , felt threatened , afraid and begged for our lives. Shivers are still running down my spine while writing this down. Still writing this is important because millions of Uyghur refugees have left their land in search of a safe place. Many of them are now at a risk of getting departed to China. If sent back, these people will be locked up in prison and subjected to torture. Many of them could become fresh victims of organ harvesting by Chinese authorities. Being a Uyghur I must raise our voice while I still can.
We Uyghurs only want to live a free, healthy and respectful lives but is China not only denying it but also making us prisoners in our own land. The world should not watch the silent butchering of Uyghurs and stop this genocide immediately. Humanity needs to be saved right away. Otherwise the world will be left at the mercy of cruels.