But Fremont's Afghan residents would rather have had their neighbors learn about their culture, food, and religion under better circumstances. "It's sad to see a criminal like bin Laden be the one to educate Americans about Afghanistan," he says.
Sarwari says that when his family moved from New York to Woodbridge, Virginia, he had a tough time explaining to people exactly where he was from. "People used to ask if I were Puerto Rican," he says. "I'd say, 'Afghan.' And they'd say, 'You're from Africa?' " He finally ended up saying that he was from New York, especially since he had picked up a slight Queens accent while going to Forest Hills High School.
As proud as they are of their heritage, some in the Afghan community are reluctant to divulge their origins these days. The Afghan Cultural Society of Alameda pulled out of that city's multicultural festival in late September. The society was supposed to perform the country's national dance.
Right now, people like Sarwari and Amerie simply want to keep a low profile. They don't know how long the goodwill among Americans will last, especially if U.S. soldiers start dying in Afghanistan. While Sarwari tries to put on a good face about all that's happened since September 11, he says that the first two weeks following the attacks were tough: "I was very depressed during this time and felt hated because I was an Afghan."
Fara Warner (fwarner@fastcompany.com) is a Fast Company senior writer.
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