There was a time in my life when I didn’t know anything about how the world outside worked. I was 30 years old, a woman with no formal education, no status, and no real interaction with life beyond the society I had grown up in. My world had been small and tightly managed. When I first came to Switzerland as a teenager, I was assigned to work in the kitchen. I didn’t know how to cook—but I learned quickly. Sometimes we cooked through the night, and although I was often exhausted, I became a skilled cook. I even traveled to India to learn their culinary traditions. So yes, I had worked hard. I had achieved things. But on paper, I had nothing to show for it—no diploma, no proof, no official education.
My son was around nine. I had been married for 17 years. I took care of children and delivered advertising flyers. At the time, I believed there could be no better job for someone like me. I simply accepted what life handed me—just as I had been taught. I thought it was normal to submit to any authority. Even when my then-boss mistreated me, I didn’t stand up for myself. My husband would scold me, not understanding why I couldn’t speak up. But it wasn’t about courage—it was conditioning. I had learned obedience, not self-advocacy.
When my son started school, I began to interact more with the world outside. Slowly, I developed a desire for independence. I remember meeting a woman eating pizza alone. She had just divorced her husband. I was captivated by her freedom. She had her own money, her own time, and the simple pleasure of eating a meal in peace. That was a luxury I had never known.
But stepping out into the world wasn’t easy. I went from one government office to another, asking for support. Since I had no papers, no records, they kept sending me away. One morning, discouraged but determined, I picked up a newspaper and saw a job ad: a sales position at the most exclusive chocolate shop in Zürich.
Something inside me stirred. I felt nervous but called the number. The man who answered had a kind, cheerful voice. I told him I wanted the job. He laughed and said, “Tomorrow is the 9th of the 9th, 1999. Come at 9:00 a.m.” It felt like a sign.
I arrived in a long dress and braid. He greeted me warmly and invited me into his office. When he asked if I had experience in sales, I admitted I didn’t. But I told him that as a young woman, I used to admire the shop windows and dream of working there. I mentioned my knowledge of Indian sweets and my strong desire to work.
He looked at me and said, “Well, it’s clear you don’t know much—but I admire your courage. I’m only the hiring manager for another year, and I’d like to give you this job. You seem sincere.” He asked if I had any documents. I didn’t. Later, we had to improvise a bit, but it worked out. He decided to place me at the airport branch, in transit, where I wouldn’t have to deal with the rigid branch managers.
That was the beginning. The other women supported me. At first, they thought I came from another planet. But once they got to know me and heard my story, they were kind.
That job was the start of my emancipation. I began leaving everything I had ever known behind—everything that had once felt safe but also held me back. I began stepping into something completely unknown.
I remember my sister once told me, “Not making a decision is the only wrong decision.” She was right.
It was scary. But I know that had I not made that leap back then, I wouldn’t be where I am today.
And that’s the point. Sometimes the hard steps, the terrifying ones, are the beginning of a new life.
Even the tough times can become a blessing—if we’re willing to walk into the unknown.