‘This is not our dream’

Editor’s Note: The Afghan refugees in this story requested to be identified by pseudonyms due to risks of their identity being tracked by the Taliban. The IDS took non-identifying photos of the subjects to have a visual element to the story without risking the safety of the subjects.

Pete Lenzen, 71, director of Bloomington Refugee Support Network, started his day with a coffee and pastry from Hive before driving seven Afghan refugees to their dental appointments in Indianapolis. He turned left out of the Hive parking lot and pulled up to the front doors of the Tulip Tree apartments to pick up his first client, 27-year-old Zahra.

After getting into the front seat of Lenzen’s white 2024 Chrysler Pacifica, Zahra rode along to the next stop — an Afghan family’s home on the west side of Bloomington. Lailoma, 52, and four of her six children piled in, with all four kids cramming into the back three seats of the van.

Lailoma and Zahra greeted each other in Dari, a dialect of Persian. They have all met several times before, as Lenzen always made a point to introduce Afghan families to each other who came to Bloomington as refugees.

“Hello, good morning!” Lailoma said to Lenzen.

“Good morning,” he said.

Lailoma and her third oldest son, Amir, 17, had appointments. Sorosh, 15, Freshta, 12 and Mehronaz, 10, came along for the ride. Lenzen thought it was good for the other kids to join so they could be exposed to different surroundings in the United States.

They began the nearly hour-long drive to Familia Dental, an office chosen by Lenzen because of its Medicaid insurance advertisement. Lenzen said for families coming to America to start over, appointments in Bloomington tend to be difficult to schedule and much more expensive. His goal for the families is to help them reach financial independence and he is committed to helping them in the meantime.

When Lenzen was a U.S. Navy Nuclear Engineering Officer in 1980, he helped to rescue men, women and children who were fleeing Vietnam by boat. He later went on to work with the United Nations in Seoul. There, he volunteered at Mother Teresa Missionaries of Charity to help abandoned women and children.

When he returned to the U.S., he worked in various factories across the country but eventually joined his family in Bloomington when he retired in 2016 — the same year Diane Legomsky founded RSN.

Lenzen learned about the organization and quickly decided to join as a board member the same year to give back to his community. He became the director in 2021. Through RSN, he and about 20 other volunteers have helped over 200 families find their footing in the U.S. after fleeing persecution from their home countries.

According to a report from the Office of Homeland Security Statistics, 60,050 refugees were admitted into the country during 2023, the same year Zahra came to the U.S. On Jan. 20, President Donald Trump signed an executive order suspending the United States Refugee Admissions Program for 90 days. U.S. District Judge Jamal Whitehead ruled to block Trump’s executive order on Feb. 25. However, The Associated Press reported Feb. 27 that refugee aid groups said their “cooperative arguments with the State Department had been cancelled,” claiming the Trump administration is trying to “circumvent” the court order.

For Zahra and Lailoma’s family, leaving Afghanistan for the United States may have saved their lives.

•••

Zahra was a student at American University of Afghanistan in Kabul when the Taliban attacked in August 2021. They had previously attacked the university in 2016. Zahra said the university was always under threat of the Taliban because they thought the students were being converted to Christianity by Americans.

Zahra was instructed to evacuate at midnight without saying goodbye to her family. She didn’t want them to worry, so she told them she was safe. She arrived at a camp in Kabul where she was told she would remain safe for seven days and was escorted to the airport to leave for Qatar.

From Qatar she flew to Kurdistan, Iraq, where she lived for a year and a half continuing her studies and waiting for her U.S. visa to be approved. Zahra arrived in Bloomington in January 2023 through Exodus Refugee Immigration and enrolled at IU to complete her undergraduate degree in economics. She now texts with her family who are still in Afghanistan every morning and calls them at least once a week.

Zahra first met Lenzen about two months after resettling in Bloomington through a mutual friend who he previously helped with resettlement. Zahra needed a ride to her early morning medical check-up. Lenzen took the opportunity to assess her needs as a new refugee in the United States, like with all his clients. He helps them buy groceries, set up utilities, pay rent and assist with any medical needs.

When Lailoma’s family came to the U.S. through Exodus in January 2024, they spoke little English and didn’t have many resources. In Afghanistan, Lailoma’s husband, Zahid, 48, was a professional musician, but the Taliban did not respect musicians. He also helped women learn to play music and worked with Americans, two other reasons the Taliban could target Zahid specifically. They left to not only protect themselves, but the family they had to leave behind.

They flew to Dubai, Dubai to Kuwait, and Kuwait to Qatar, where they stayed for a total of 37 days. Their son Barez, 24, left 10 days before, spending 47 days in Qatar before they all came to the U.S. together.

Once they obtained their documents, they flew to Chicago, then to Indianapolis and received a ride from the airport to Bloomington. They stayed two weeks in the Homewood Suites hotel before finding permanent housing.

Lailoma and Zahid met Lenzen through other Afghan families settled in Bloomington who worked with him in the past. The families told them Lenzen was like an angel. They brought Lenzen to Lailoma and Zahid’s home to introduce him, immediately offering them assistance. He helped them find a TV for the kids, buy a computer for work and school, set up a Wi-Fi network and has taken them several times to the grocery store and medical appointments.

“Without Pete, it was difficult to live here,” Zahid said.

•••

The van was kept clean for Lenzen’s passengers, except for the salt stains on the floor mats and fingerprints on the air vents. A half-full drink from Wendy’s was left in the cup holder behind the front passenger seat, still frozen from being left in the van overnight.

Amir had headphones around his neck and Sorosh kept one AirPod in his right ear. The girls downloaded a piano tiles music app on their mother’s phone to keep them busy, with the song “Please Please Please” by Sabrina Carpenter escaping from the speakers.

They arrived at Familia Dental just before 1 p.m., which was the time of Lailoma and Amir’s appointments. Zahra’s appointment wasn’t until 2 p.m.

When they walked into the small waiting room with 16 chairs, a wall-mounted TV played an old television series before it later switched to Phineas and Ferb. Three sticky hand toys were stuck to the ceiling.

Lenzen checked in the three appointments and grabbed two clipboards, pencils and paper for the girls to draw.

“He is like our grandfather, even though our grandfathers wouldn’t be as patient,” Zahra said. “I love him.”

Mehronaz said she wants to be a dancer and singer when she grows up. Freshta wants to be a doctor. Her favorite subject in school is math, but she found a talent with art, too.

The girls spent the rest of their time in the waiting room drawing, playing the piano game and watching cartoons on the TV. Sorosh kept the AirPod in his ear and mostly stared at his phone. Zahra began braiding Mehronaz’s hair before she was called back for her appointment.

Lailoma and Amir came out to the waiting room about 30 minutes later. The dentist handed them dental care supplies with rubber ducks and sticky hand toys included inside. The kids started slapping each other with them, their mother giving them a look of disapproval with a slight smirk beginning to show.

Mehronaz looked at the toys stuck to the ceiling as inspiration, as she managed to stick one right above where she was standing. Mischievously, she looked at her siblings.

“Now there’s four,” she said giggling.

All dental bills were paid by RSN, which spends nearly $10,000 each year for medical purposes, and a total of over $40,000 yearly to help with various needs. The 501(c)3 non-profit receives grants and donations from the city, local community foundations, charities, faith communities, individuals and board members to help sponsor the families.

•••

Zahid has been asked to perform several times at events since arriving in Bloomington. Two of his sons and youngest daughter have even joined, too, playing and singing a traditional Afghan song: “Sarzamine Man” by Dawood Sarkhosh, or “My Land.”

“I have become homeless,” the lyrics translate to English. “I have moved from one home to another. Without you, I have always been with sorrow shoulder to shoulder.”

Lailoma and Zahid gave up their livelihood to keep their family safe, but that meant starting again from nothing. Zahid wanted to start working right away but was encouraged to learn English before finding a job. He began work as a custodian for IU after five months of being in the U.S. They relied on financial support from Exodus and RSN in the meantime, but they lost their food stamps after Zahid had been working for two months.

His two oldest sons, Barez and Rezwan, 19, also got jobs as custodians to help support their family’s financial expenses, like rent, utilities and food. But Zahid was unexpectedly let go after six months of working. He has not been able to find a job since. Rezwan hopes he will eventually be able to enroll in university.

Refugees coming to Indiana over the age of 18 are typically unable to go to high school because of the 40-credit requirement to graduate, even if they need more of an education. They are encouraged to work and obtain a GED, Lenzen said. However, Zahid said his daughters are happy to go to school. They are on track to receive more of an education than they would be able to in Afghanistan. Under the Taliban rule, girls are not to have an education beyond sixth grade.

According to a report published by UNESCO in December 2024, 1.4 million girls in Afghanistan have been denied access to secondary education since 2021. Although primary school is still accessible, 1.1 million fewer girls have been enrolled since 2019. Since December 2022, 100,000 Afghan women have been denied access to higher education.

Zahra completed her undergraduate degree at IU during the summer of 2024 and began her graduate studies in international affairs in the fall. She wants to be an advocate for refugees in the U.S. who have to completely transform their lives.

“This life is not luxury for us,” Zahra said. “This is not our dream.”

She had to leave behind a large family, festivals and celebrations. The transition to living alone, eating by herself and having to do everything independently is not the life she would have chosen.

She said she desperately wants to see her parents and siblings again, to help them come to the United States, but she cannot go back to Afghanistan.

•••

After the appointments concluded, they went one-by-one into the van. Lenzen punched in the directions to Bloomington, but offered an idea he knew the girls couldn’t resist.

“Maybe we have to stop at Wendy’s or something and get chicken nuggets,” he said.

Gasps came from the back seat.

“I know, here, this is Shams,” he said. “We’ll stop and get some Halal gummy bears.”

More gasps sounded, even louder than the last.

Lenzen drove everyone to Shams Halal Market in Indianapolis, an Afghan owned shop that provides permissible and clean products according to Islamic law. Halal markets exclude products with alcohol or pork derivatives. Meat and poultry have to be slaughtered in a specific way to minimize suffering and ensure cleanliness.

The boys stayed in the car, but everyone else went inside.

“Do you want to get gummy bears?” Lenzen asked Mehronaz.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied.

“Lailoma do you need something?” he asked.

She shook her head no.

“Only gummy bears for them,” he said.

Zahra walked around the corner with Chilli Chatka chips, Slanty chips and a big smile on her face.

“These are my favorite snacks,” she said.

She grabbed two Barbican drinks, too. Her mother used to drink them, and it reminded her of home.

Freshta picked out a pack of Buldak spicy ramen noodles and went to find Slanty chips like Zahra. Mehronaz carried spicy ramen, gummy bears and two packs of fennel seeds for her mother.

They walked out of the store, into the van and began the journey home to Bloomington. The crinkle of the snack bags and crunch of the chips emerged immediately after leaving the parking lot. Lenzen talked with Zahra about her life and asked her to help translate for Lailoma. From the first moment they met, he truly wanted to understand.

He dropped each of them off before receiving a phone call from another family who needed to buy groceries. He said “yes” and drove them to the store.

Lenzen didn’t get home until 8 p.m., typical for his job. He still made time to walk three miles around his neighborhood, something he tries to do daily to help his physical and mental health. It allows him to process how to help every family the best he can.

He returned around 9 p.m., got ready to sleep and listened about halfway through the NPR News Hour before he drifted off. He was awake by 5:30 the next morning and out the door by 7 a.m.

His email signature contains a quote from author Amit Ray. Along with following his Christian faith, the quote reminds him why he chooses to wake up each morning, work 12-hour days and be there for each text or phone call.

“Compassion is contagious. Every moment we choose compassion, we move towards a better world.”

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