EPISODE 22: SAMAN BABAN

May 28, 2019

The first time I went to Iraq, I was about 12 years old. I was going to visit my mum’s family, and I remember feeling so scared. Because at that time, all you ever heard about when people talked about Iraq was “war war war.” The image of Iraq was just pure chaos. And it was to a certain extent. So, when I went my expectations were, “This is going to be scary. I barely speak the language. I’m kind of an outsider.” But it ended up just being me spending a lot of time with my family. My mum and grandma really tried to make me feel at home in Erbil, which is a city in northern Iraq, in a region called Kurdistan. I’m Kurdish, which is a whole separate ethnicity from Arab. My Mum’s entire family, including her 3 siblings and most of their kids, still live in Kurdistan. And even though I’ve been in the US for seven years, they still have some expectation that I’m going to go back and establish myself as a part of the communities that we’ve been a part of for generation after generation. There’s a real beauty about the culture there because you have these strong families where everybody is so supportive and takes care of each other. And the people there are some of the best you’ll ever meet. They’re so friendly and warm. When you’ve been through what they’ve been through, you’re bound to be. Despite that, I often feel like I don’t completely fit in. Sometimes I find that I don’t think the same way that they do – I’ve been too exposed to the rest of the world. And dealing with the instability there has always worried me. I understand that I was very spoiled and rarely had to deal with the sort of stress that Kurdish people have had to endure. And my family understands that about me, to some extent. So, I often think about how I am going to either fit in there, or how I am going to pull myself out without hurting my family. 

My dad’s side of the family, in many ways, is the complete opposite. They pretty much all live outside of the country – Jordan, California, the UK – and think so differently. My dad is also Kurdish. And even though he loves and is proud of his heritage, he always thought a little differently than the rest of them. He worked very hard to get himself out, and raise a family outside of the country. He came to the US in the 70s-80s with very little in his pockets. It was kind of complicated because at that time it was very difficult to leave Iraq. He got extremely lucky. He met some great people and just happened to end up in the right place at the right time, and that happened to be in California. The next thing you know, his charisma and Arabic language helped him get a fairly nice job in San Francisco. He lived there for many years, worked his way up, and all of a sudden, he’s a banker. And eventually he became a US citizen. I think that’s why he only ever wanted to speak English with me. He wanted me to be this American kid. He would always say, “you have this opportunity, you’re a US citizen. I want you to go there and succeed.” And as a child, I wanted to be American. Being American was cool. When I was in elementary and middle school in Dubai, it was so much more interesting to be American than to be from Iraq. Of course, now that I’m older I appreciate my background so much more and what it means to be Kurdish. But by the end of high school, I needed to leave the Middle East. I was like, “I’m ready, let’s go.” So I came and started school at Johns Hopkins, away from everyone I ever knew. 

The US is where I really grew into myself. I’m a very different person from who I was seven years ago. Moving here led to a huge change in my perspective. A large part of it was being on my own. I learned to think critically and take care of myself. I was in a pretty bad place in high school, and I pulled myself out – with support from friends and counseling – but for the most part it was me that pulled myself out and got myself thinking, “how can I fix what is going on?” I think anybody who has never lived away from home has to leave. Some people will disagree with me. But I think everyone needs to be on their own for a while, meet completely new people, and struggle with that fear of being alone. It’s a scary feeling, but it’s an important process of growing up and figuring out who you are. You have to face it yourself. And the only way to do that is to leave your comfort zone. My comfort zone was messy, and it was complicated. But it was what I was used to. And it never forced me to challenge the way that I thought about myself. Throughout college, I felt like I was becoming who I was meant to be, not what other people wanted me to be. I was declaring who I was, what I cared about, what I wanted. I started to really trust the belief that you should be proud of who you are and embrace it. And when you do that, and accept that you’re not perfect, and that there’s things about you that you still need to learn to love, you get a lot happier. 

My dad always gave me good perspective on that. He had a challenging 20s, moving from Iraq on his own. He was always like, “take what you got and make the best out of it.” It’s advice I’ve always carried with me. He’s a very positive guy. My dad, the worst will happen to him, and he will brush it off like it’s okay. It’s unbelievable. He always taught me that. Both my parents have been through so much, and they always tried to do their best for me. I’m beyond grateful I never had to deal with war around me like they did, and like so many other people in my life. It’s an important perspective for me to have every day, and everyone in my family reminds me of it all the time. You have to be happy with what you’ve got. I think one of the most heartbreaking stories I ever learned about was regarding the Yazidis, which is another ethnic group in Iraq. During one of my first trips in Iraq, I had the opportunity to visit a Yazidi village. This was when I was really young. My uncle arranged this trip, and I’ll never forget how they looked at me so strangely because I was an outsider. But all of the people were incredibly welcoming, and it was an amazing experience. I hadn’t returned again, but I learned from my mother that when ISIS came, much of their community was killed or forced to flee. I felt completely useless, because there was nothing I could do for them. And you still hear these stories today. Everyone I meet, they say, “Oh you’re from America. You’re educated. You’re going to be a doctor. Do something good with that degree.” Just that fact alone, “You’re going to be a doctor.” I don’t think some people here understand how significant that is, especially where I’m from. It matters so much. People back home constantly remind me about the changes I can make with the degree. I never want to forget my roots or what the Iraqi people have gone through, or what many people continue to go through today. I think some people need to be reminded about how privileged and lucky they are to be in the position they’re in. You’ve got to be grateful for what you have. You need to take it and make the world a better place. Life’s not perfect, but it doesn’t mean you can’t remember how great a lot of these things are. I wish I could show that to people here in a meaningful way. This is part of why med school doesn’t faze me so much. I understand my purpose, and everything that I’m going to be able to do once I’m done. I just need to get through it. Sure, I almost gave up medicine a few times because of the stress. I do have doubts. But for the most part, I’m aspiring to be a doctor. And I accept that I’m going to do the best I can, even if it feels like it’s not enough. If it’s not perfect, whatever. I’ll simply do the best with what I’ve got.

What are your 5 most recently played artists?

SZA, Kyle Dion, Of Monsters and Men, Kehlani, Florence + The Machine

If you could have any superpower, which one would you choose?

I'd want to be able to speak and understand any language.

Pick someone or something from NYMC to give a shout-out too!

My amazing roommates in 1216, Chirag, Brian and Keith! 

If someone wanted to talk to you, they should lead with…:

A smile and a bad joke.