First person: my return to Kabul going back to give back.

I have learned that true love does exist. While most people look for it in another human being, I recently found mine with Kabul, Afghanistan--a love that can endure for nearly 25 years, one that should not be ignored and cannot be replaced.

I was born in Afghanistan in 1975 and left with my family for the United States in April 1979 before the Soviet invasion. Immigrants assimilate to their surroundings like adopted children in a new home, but their hearts long for their birth mother. For years, I have felt a connection to Afghanistan, even though I left when I was three and a half years old and have lived a normal, peaceful life in the United States. That connection, like an umbilical cord that stretches from Central Asia to North America, motivated me to join my sister on a trade mission to Kabul. When I left my "mother", she was a beautiful, energetic and loving country with so much promise. I was not prepared to see her as she had become--like an injured patient emerging from a 25-year coma.

For hundreds of years, Afghanistan has been the crossroads of Asia, caught in the middle of cultural, religious and political discord between countries and regimes. When I lived there, it was a peaceful time, although Communism was slowly spreading through the veins of the Government. I don't remember much, but what I do remember is vivid and intense. In Kabul, my sisters and I savoured life, which involved sharing nightly meals with the entire family, nibbling sweet corn and juicy kabobs from the local stands, driving to Bamiyan to see the famous statues of Buddha, running through the meadows with my siblings and cousins, picking tomatoes from the garden, flying paper kites and devouring sugar cones. For the adults, it might have meant taking advantage of studying at local universities, taking in the crisp air, going to an Ahmad Zahir concert, strolling through Shar Naw, or secretly flirting with a crush at a bus stop. It was a very simple life, devoid of certain advancements found in economically advantaged countries. But there was love, there was family and, for the most part, there was pure joy in small things.

The last thing I remember about Afghanistan is boarding an Ariana Airlines plane and seeing my entire family waving to us from the airport window: my grandfather (who was executed by the Communists later that year), grandmother, uncles, aunts and cousins. I framed my April 1979 Ariana plane ticket; its return-date box has always been blank.

Living in the United States has been great because I have a normal, healthy life and experienced the American dream. I graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in marketing from George Mason University and now own a fashion business in New York City--a product of the immigrant drive and my father's entrepreneurial spirit. But ever since September 11th [2001], I have wanted to return to help Afghanistan. After the terrorist attacks, I helped co-found a non-governmental organization that assisted Afghan refugees and the victims of 9/11. More recently, my plan has been to expand my business into a Kabul manufacturing base, but I did not know how.

When my sister Mariam, who is the commercial attache at the Afghanistan Embassy in Washington D.C., invited me to join a trade delegation to Kabul, I jumped at the opportunity. The purpose of the trip was to invite foreign companies, primarily from the United States, to invest in Afghanistan. I was part of the 16-member delegation that included Coca-Cola, Motorola and Overstock.com. Before my arrival in Afghanistan, I tried to prepare myself mentally for what was to come. As the plane glided over the snow-capped mountains and circled above Kabul, I began to make out the toll of over 25 years of war: bombed homes, mangled cars and tanks, a cloud of pollution, and the prison where my grandfather was held before he was executed. As the plane touched down, my built-up emotions erupted into a river of tears as I saw the same airport window where my family had waved goodbye to us. Then I saw men clearing landmines in the grassy knoll between the runways, and the reality of the war hit me.

The streets, dirty and unlike anything I have ever laid eyes on, were crowded and filled with men, women and children from different ethnic backgrounds. Most of the women were still covered in the suffocating burka, and many small children with dirty faces, messy hair and torn clothes were walking barefoot. We drove by one house and, through the gate, I saw a couple of kids with no clothes on!

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The despair and severe poverty were so overwhelming that my tears turned into determination. As I absorbed the shocking way of life in Afghanistan, I felt resentment towards what Americans took for granted.

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For the next few days, I took in the daily grind of living in Kabul, but it wasn't easy. In our house there was limited electricity at night, powered by an outdoor generator, only a trickle of water from the shower head, no refrigerator and no computer. A visit to distant family members in the outskirts of Kabul was very humbling, because I had to use an outhouse during a bathroom break. That was the first time I longed for the United States and the first time that I realized I was not as tough as I had thought. I missed many things about America, I longed for the freedom to make my own choices and the feeling of safety.

In Kabul, for security reasons, my sister and I could not leave the house without a driver, and we were expected to return before dark. This was frustrating to our independent American spirit, but we respected the rules anyway. Considering how the men stare at women, I didn't mind being protected by a male or wearing my headscarf. By the end of the trip, it had become frustrating enough that I shouted at a few of them to stop staring. For the most part though, the city is safe during the day if you are with another person, the locals are very hospitable and there is an air of optimism everywhere.

Even with the destruction and difficult way of life, there is hope in Afghanistan. The trade delegation followed a daily agenda and had the honour of meeting with high-ranking government officials within the Ministries of Commerce and of Finance and the United States Embassy. What I learned from these private meetings is that there are a lot of foreign companies bringing business to the country.

In the past six months alone, 200 companies had registered with the Afghanistan Government, $500 million had been invested by the private sector and approximately 10,000 jobs had been created. These companies include the Hyatt Hotel chain, China Railway, Standard Charter Bank and Marco Polo, a German-Afghan airline. Through the Ministry of Finance, we learned that there is active reform in the areas of legislation, human resources, taxation, infrastructure and transit, so that the private sector can take advantage of new investment-friendly laws.

I was happy to see remodelled buildings throughout the city and felt a level of energy that was contagious. There are hundreds of roadside businesses, many stylish restaurants and interesting city shopping. There are educated, well-dressed and qualified Afghan expatriates in government offices eager to bring reform to the Government and security to the city.

Westerners are treated with respect and given VIP treatment. During our stay, we were not shown disrespect even once by the Afghans, who are optimistic, welcome outside aid and investment, and seem to be responding well to the changes and the new government.

The rest of my trip included meeting with several local manufacturers to discuss the possibility of working together on my fashion business. I am excited about expanding my business there so that I can take advantage of low production costs and, more important, create jobs within the country, especially for women. For the country to be stable, people must be educated and working to improve the economy. The Afghan people are hardworking, entrepreneurial and eager to improve their way of life. A stable and prosperous Afghanistan would mean that terrorists would not have a haven to plan future attacks, and for this reason it is important to invest there.

After two weeks, I left Afghanistan. My new plane ticket is framed next to the original one of 1979, with the return-date box left blank for so long, but I knew that it would be a matter of time that this void in my life would be filled. My visit to Afghanistan after 25 years was an emotionally draining but mentally rewarding experience. Afghanistan is coming out of a coma slowly. She may bear the scars of pain. But she is wiser and has the best chance yet for a full recovery. That is, if she isn't ignored once again.

Samira Atash is a businesswoman and designer who has won international and domestic recognition for her designs. She has completed an intensive programme at Parsons School of Design. For further information visit http://www.aisa.org.af

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