My name is Mohammed Shahagha, I am 43 years old and from Afghanistan. My dream was simple and immense at the same time: to be able to live with my family, safely, in a place where we can build our future.

I arrived at Scalabrini House 634 in late December 2016. I worked a lot during the day, working two jobs-one even in a tourist agency-and spent little time at home. But every night I carried with me the thought of my distant family, still living in Afghanistan. At that time I had three children.

The months I lived at Casa Scalabrini – six, maybe seven – were intense. I felt the need to improve my Italian language and to get my driver’s license, because I knew that driving could open up new career paths for me. The driver’s license was a real challenge: after work, I would attend the course in the late afternoon, often tired, but motivated. Classes were organized in the house, with Chiara and other volunteers who made everything lighter, almost fun, even in times of fatigue.

Home was many different things: parties, community dinners, small daily confrontations. Living with 30 people is never easy: each with his own habits, his own character, his own challenges. But the sense of community that was created was real. It was made up of respect, simple gestures. I was fine with everyone.

One day in August, during a beach outing with the House, I took a dip in the water and came back with my leg full of sea urchins. I still remember it, not only because of the pain, but because that was also a part of life together: laughing, worrying, helping each other.

Even after I left, Scalabrini House 634 remained in my life. I would often return for the holidays, for a greeting, to still feel part of the place that was also bonds and relationships.

My dream, however, was still far away. In 2017 I started the process to be reunited with my family. In 2019 I made the official application, but bureaucracy slowed everything down. Then came Covid: closed embassies, expired documents, endless waiting. Every time everything seemed ready, a new obstacle popped up.

When the situation in Afghanistan precipitated with the arrival of the Taliban, the concern for the safety of my wife and children became untenable. I did everything to speed things up, and thanks to other associations and humanitarian corridors, in November 2022 I was finally able to bring them to Italy.

The joy of the newfound embrace was soon met with a new difficulty: we had no place to live . We spent the first few days in hotels, but the costs were unaffordable. I did not think that bringing my family here would be just the beginning of a new uphill journey.

I called Scalabrini House. Once again, they were there: they took us in at a time of great fragility and in a calm and welcoming place. It was there that my children first set foot in Italy. It was there that they also began to dream, going to school and learning the first words of a new language.

Today I continue to work, I also got my C license to drive trucks. My wife Nooria is learning to cope with life here, amid difficulties and new discoveries. It is not easy, but the dream has not faded and every day I fight to give my children a future to dream about.

Scalabrini House 634 is not just a place where I lived: it is a piece of my history, the place where my children found friends, moments of play and celebration. I will forever thank the people who stood by me during these times and wish anyone who arrives in a new country to find a place to call home.