‘The most important thing is that I’m not a foreigner’


It’s been nearly three months since the United States launched a military operation to oust the Taliban from Afghanistan.

After a two-month pause, U.S. troops began returning to combat positions.

While there are still no American troops in Afghanistan, there is a long way to go.

On the day I returned home, my parents and I visited my sister, who had just returned from Pakistan.

“It’s the most important part of being a foreigner in this country,” she said.

“We were never taught how to be foreigners, but that’s why we’re here.

It’s not like being born in the U.K. or going to school in America, we’re not doing anything special.

We’re not going to be the first Americans to go into Afghanistan.

We just have to survive here.”

My sister and I took our first steps in Pakistan when I was 13.

Our parents, who were from Karachi, Pakistan, had lived in that city for decades.

“I was a Pakistani girl growing up, but we didn’t know the language and were very shy,” she told me.

My parents had been in Pakistan since the 1970s, and my family had been there since the 1990s.

My sister was about the same age as me, and she and her husband lived in the same house.

When I was a kid, I was always thinking about Pakistan.

We were always talking about Pakistan and our plans for our family, so I didn’t have any issues.

My mother didn’t think I was too smart.

“She told me to go and live with her,” she recalled.

“You never know what the Taliban will do to you.”

I didn, and now I’m a proud Pakistani.

But my parents had no idea about what was happening in Afghanistan.

They weren’t even aware that there was an insurgency in the country.

My father and I grew up in the city of Peshawar, in the tribal heartland of Pakistan.

It was a peaceful place, and people who didn’t want to fight were welcomed into the city.

In Peshawar alone, there were several hundred thousand Pakistani refugees.

It took us nearly five years to realize that our country was in a civil war.

My family came to the U, the country we call home.

But we didn-a lot of them-didn’t know that it was a war.

The war was fought by the Pakistani Taliban, an Islamist group that had gained strength in the 1990-2001 period.

The Pakistani Taliban were armed with mortars and rocket launchers.

The U.N. classified the Taliban as a terrorist organization, and it’s considered a terrorist group by most Western nations.

The United States had a hand in starting the war in Afghanistan in 2001, but the U the United Kingdom and France refused to participate.

When the Taliban attacked the Afghan capital, Kabul, the U decided to withdraw troops.

That’s when the U joined forces with the Pakistani government.

That decision helped pave the way for the Afghan civil war that has raged for almost eight years.

It has killed more than 10,000 people and forced more than 7 million to flee their homes.

I came to America because of my family.

It made sense for me to stay, but my parents didn’t understand why they were coming to this country, let alone the way I felt about it.

My mother said, “It takes time to change a culture.

We can’t just come here and just change.”

My father said, “[I] don’t want my kids to go to school.

My kids don’t need to go out.”

My sister, however, said, [We] want to do what is right for our country.

I was raised in Pakistan and had always wanted to come to the United State.

I had been to Karachi, the city where my father was from.

I was very religious, and I liked to study Islam.

I remember being in Peshawar for the first time in my life.

It felt like I was on a different planet.

I never knew what a war was like in the countryside.

But I did understand that people were dying.

When I was about 15, I decided to move back to the country where I had grown up.

I left my family and started living with a cousin in Peshkar, the capital of the North Waziristan tribal region.

My cousin, who was also from Peshawar and was living in the US, started living in our town.

But when I got there, I felt uncomfortable.

I felt that I didn-I couldn’t be like my parents.

My cousins were always friendly, but I couldn’t speak English.

My life wasn’t so good.

I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without permission from the Pakistani people.

I ended up living in a house with my cousin and my mother.

Our home is in the North-Wazir Pakistan tribal area, about 60 miles north of the Pakistani border.

It is not exactly the most affluent