My name is Akilah. 34 years ago I was born in late January. My mother and her best friend went to the hospital once, but it was a false alarm, then again and this time was the real deal! I had arrived and had a whole beautiful life to live.
My mother was single until I was 15 years old. I didn’t realize how hard life really was for us until I grew up and became a mother myself. I genuinely have no idea how she did it by herself, but I’ll give you a glimpse. She never made me feel like a burden. She loved me and supported me behind words. She raised me to love myself, be confident in my abilities and gifts, and she taught me to not hold hatred towards anyone.
I grew up in southeastern Ohio and subsequently in northern Kentucky. Growing up in this part of Ohio was wonderful, because I was surrounded by so many cultures, hippies, and farmers. I was raised and maintain my faith in Islam Al hamdolilah. I am so thankful for the melange of worlds that she exposed me to.
Do you wonder what she spoke of you? She said that you met at college. She said you used to play soccer in Saudi Arabia. She said you knew she was pregnant, but had to go back to Saudi Arabia because your father was sick. As I got older and asked a couple more questions, she told me that you asked her to get married and go back with you, but she declined. I’m not sure what’s true or not, but I will tell you, she never said one bad word about you to me.
This depiction led me to be proud of you. I was proud of where I came from even if I didn’t and still don’t know where there is exactly. I would beam telling friends or people about this illustrious man that is my father. I’m almost 100% certain I embarrassed my mother many times at the masjid when I would tell people about you and how you were never married. Funny now, but my poor mother!
Fast-forward ten or so years and my world changed drastically. My mother passed away when I was 25 years old. My world collapsed and I lost my comfort, my protection from the world, my best friend… I have never felt so alone in the world. This was the first time I decided to try finding you. I called the embassy and sent the emails, but they were no help. I called Ohio University (not to be confused with The Ohio State University.) The only information I was able to acquire from them was conformation that you had in fact attended in the mid to late 80s, but nothing else.
Let’s skip ahead to the good stuff, I am now in my mid-30s, married to a Moroccan man, and we have a beautiful son mashallah, who is pure joy and never ceases to keep me laughing and also on my toes. I’m happy, and I want a chance to gain knowledge of who I am completely. And it honestly, it’s the least you could do.
It’s been nearly a decade of me occasionally typing your name into the Facebook search engine or googling your name for me to get here. I hope that this letter finds you and finds you well truly. I am a good woman because of my mother, and I would love to continue evolving and learning about myself for my son and future children inshallah.
*Akilah says Fahd is originally from Ryadh, but not much else is known. If anyone has any info on Fahd Hedaib or his family feel free to reach out to email@example.com or leave a comment below. Thanks
Pilot and Captain of the Rolay Saudi Air Force During 1985-1986 from Jeddah
I probably wrote this story multiple times, and it’s hard to not get upset, angry or just disappointed in the fact I’m even having to do this.
My dad met my mother at Lackland Air Force base here in San Antonio, Texas at a club called Maxim. That is where multiple friends and family witnessed their relationship grow, the relationship that eventually birthed me. My dad would hang out with all of the officers after class on base at the bars. A lot of people saw their relationship and how he stayed with my mom during the whole pregnancy.
I was born May 8, 1986. My dad named me after his friend who he went out with during school here in San Antonio. All my life I saw pictures and heard stories of his antics from beating and putting my mother in closets so he could go out while she was pregnant, to using nun chucks on a group of thugs who tried to intimidate him.
My dad was a tall man, he was 6 foot tall and once he jumped in a 5 foot deep pool head first and scraped his chin where it left a scar. I’m a spitting image of him. He loved dressing like Michael Jackson and he would take my mother back and forth to Florida where he was training In language and flying planes.
The story I’ve been told is that he left me shortly after I was born. He was stationed in Florida and the day I was born my mother took a grey hound bus to see him and left me with my grandmother. He was fully aware that I existed. I only have a vague memory of my mother calling and trying to get him to talk to me when I was a kid, he just repeatedly asked her, “What do you want? Money?” as if he had no obligations to help my mother support me. My mom reached out to him multiple times and all he would do is tell her to leave him alone and eventually we lost all contact. He knew what he was doing and due to technology today, I’m now able to get my story out in hopes my siblings will reach out.
As time went on my mom was in and out of the hospitals and was diagnosed with schizophrenia and manic depression when I was just 9 years old. She tried to commit suicide every weekend and I grew to learn how to prepare for her antics. I always wondered how my life would have been different if my father would have been around. I dreamed of a rescue. Sadly my mother died in her sleep in 2014 and is now in peace.
I looked all my life for him, calling the embassy, calling the base, and no one wanted to help me! But I never gave up. All my life I grew up being picked on because I am half Arab. I was never accepted by Arabs and never accepted by the Latino community either for most of my life I was alone. Despite the feelings of being alone I was a smart and a loving kid. But the lack of parenting and the environment I was left to crawl out of hardened me at a young age. I was a lost kid with hopes that one day my father would come and take me out this hell hole.
As I grew up, I just pretended he died. It hurt not having a male role model and wondering why he didn’t love me. Why I wasn’t good enough? I wondered if he would ever think about me and couldn’t understand how someone could live with themselves after abandoning their own child. I just kept pushing forward because I had no choice but to live fatherless. I was raised in the streets; I even joined a gang. I did whatever I needed to do to survive. When I was 15 I ran away and was placed in foster care. That’s when my life changed for the better, I was able to finally be a kid. I blossomed and grew into a strong man with values and morals thanks to my foster parents.
When I was 18, I had my son and I never wanted to be an absentee father like my dad so I joined the military to provide for my family and create a future for us. During my deployments in combat and training I started to hate myself for being Arab. For so long I struggled with inner hate. Throughout my whole military career, I heard a lot of racist comments about Arabs. I never told anyone I was Arab and during my time in the Army..I started to once again feel like I was alone in this world. I was scared and it affects me still to this day.
I was slipping into a mental condition that was reactive off impulse, anger, hatred for myself and for anyone who I felt was a bad person. It has taken years of therapy and counseling for me to fall back in love with my self, my culture, and my blood. I finally regained faith in God. I realized how I demonized myself into believing I wasn’t worth anything. I wasn’t worth: Love A family A career For so long I felt like I didn’t deserve it. Now I’m a single father to my youngest daughter. I’m still learning how to be a good father and still learning how to be a man.
In 2021 I found pen pals in Saudi Arabia and I told them my story. Eventually they helped me and I received my father’s number. I was 35 years old, I’ve made it out of rough environments, I survived 2 combat tours to Iraq, I jumped out of planes, I’ve combated mental conditions and I’ve been through hell and back. I’ve done all of those things but calling my dad was the scariest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.
It took me a year to finally muster up the courage to finally call. The day I called he didn’t answer the first 2 times and on the third time he finally answered. I’m assuming he saw the number and recognized it. I was surprised to hear he spoke perfect English. He asked me who I was. I told him I was his son and an awkward silence flooded the phone … I started to explain to him who I was. I told him I was a good man and good father and I was proud to say I served my country. I told him I forgave him for his absence and that I wasn’t angry. I explained to him that I didn’t hold any hard feels towards him. He then asked what I wanted from him. I nervously asked him to meet my family and I wanted to meet my siblings or maybe just a visit. Since my mother died in 2014, I was alone with no family. His response was that he didn’t know me. He just repeated over and over he did not know me. He blamed my mother, said it was her fault and she couldn’t be trusted. Then repeated again I DONT KNOW YOU!
I got so upset I hung up on him. I didn’t know how to respond to his disrespect and his blatant attempt to blame my mother. A few days later I called again and he had changed his number. I thought about how much of a coward he had to be to hide me from his family. I understand the problems and the image he will receive but that’s not my fault. It’s not my fault he decided to have a baby before marriage. It’s not my fault he couldn’t be a man and take care of his responsibilities. It’s not my fault. I’m the victim here.
After the conversation with my father, I fell into a deep depression. I felt he took my identity that I had fought so hard to defend. I felt all the therapy and progress I made was ripped away from me. It hurt that still after 36 years I’m not wanted. It hurt to hear how easy it was for him to treat me like trash. Sill to this day my struggle continues.
It would be selfish to say he ruined my life but I know for a fact my life would have been better if he would have been around.
To my family I would love to meet you. I would love to find faith I would love to know my family story I’m a good man A father A brother A son A man of love and compassion And I would of love to have done this in private but I was left with no choice. I don’t want to damage anyone’s reputation.
Dad I’m sorry, I respect you but you said you don’t know me Well it’s time to let go of your pride and get to know me. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere and one day I hope to visit with or without your blessing.
Anyone can find me online On Facebook or Instagram Under the Name Sultan Salem Al-Zaharani Or call me I hope to visit one day and I’m planning a trip soon please contact me 210-612-8925 I hope to one day hear from you all
Thank you Everyone for reading my story And God bless!
My name is Miriam (“Candy”) and I was born in 1970 in St. Louis Missouri, USA. My mother’s name was Virginia (“Ginny”) Hixson. I am searching for my father. His name is Abdullah Mohamed Kalfout Alharthy. He was born in 1938 in Mecca, Saudi Arabia.
He studied Political Science at the University of Louisville, Kentucky. His Masters Thesis, GOVERNMENT STRUCTURE, AND THE CIVIL SERVICE IN SAUDI ARABIA, was written in 1971 and is still available on the internet.
My Arabic name is Nada Alharthy Kalfout. Please share my story and contact me if you have any information.
Candy mentions that during their time together Abdullah and her mother had a religious marriage ceremony. Abdullah told her he had to go back to Saudi once he graduated and that he would return one day but never did.
Sadly Virginia passed away in 1998. Candy says she felt like an orphan and, after going through the hardship her whole life with this big missing piece of her life unknown, decided to contact the Saudi embassy for assistance. Since her parents weren’t legally married the Embassy refused (a common occurrence with this agency when it pertains to this issue, but that’s a whole other post). She’s hoping by coming forward and sharing her story to maybe get some long deserved answers as to where she comes from
Hey guys..this is a post from Khalid. He has decided to reach out to the website and wanted to share his story about what happened when he made contact with his father. This is what he had to say:
My government name at birth is Khalid Ahmed Stroup. My father refused to sign my birth certificate and he told my mom that he didn’t want me holding his last name. He told her never to tell anyone that he is my father and he said that he’d help from A far. After he went back home in Riyadh, he kept in contact with me until I was twelve years old. He only called me once A year if that and he’d whisper to me over the phone telling me that he loved me. He’d try to talk me in to going overseas almost every time we spoke but my mother told me so many bad things about Saudi Arabia. She didn’t want to lose me. she thought she’d never see me again. I turned down my father’s request to have me live with him because I didn’t really know him and all that my mother said. He wanted to get me out there and change my birthday so it looked like he wasn’t married when I was born.
My mother always talked to me about my father’s royal status and one time I asked him if he truly was A millionaire prince and he told me that he was and said I’d be rich too if I went out there. He offered me the world. He promised to make me rich and that excited me but my mother and my step father interfered with me going to live with him. I remember when I was around 11 years old, my father called and said that his mother was dying of cancer and her last request was to see me before she died. She was taken on A plane out here to the U.S. and was in A hospital in San Francisco. My step father spoke with my dad and he claims that my father wanted him to help kidnap me. My mother and step father made A big deal about it and they didn’t let me go see my grandmother when she was on her deathbed. Eventually my mother changed her phone number and not long after that, I was put in the system. I was in and out of institutions my whole life: JuvenileHall, group homes, jail, and prison. I went to prison for defending myself against someone who attacked me with A broken beer bottle and while I was incarcerated, I made it A set goal to find my father when I got released. After I got out, I started messaging a lot of people with his last name in Saudi Arabia. I’ve came across a lot of relatives who judged me and put me down. No one wanted to get involved and practically all of them were very rude with me. It took me a couple years to actually get my father’s phone number. I don’t think I would’ve got it if I didn’t have DNA proof. I don’t think a lot of them took me serious but once I took the ancestry test, A first cousin of mine who knows my father very well gave me his number. I sent my dad a long paragraph expressing how I feel, and how I wanted to be apart of his life. Everything I said was from the heart. I really needed someone to turn to. I was going through A lot in my life and I felt Alone. I was craving for my father’s love and acceptance. I wanted to be accepted in to the family more than ever! I thought for sure my father was going to block me but he didn’t. He responded back to me, then he had A friend of his call my phone. I spoke with his friend and he said that my father understands what I’m going through and that he was thinking about me A lot after I messaged him. He said that my father wants to be apart of my life but there’s complications.
The man asked if him and my dad could have A face to face meeting with me in the states so they could discuss the issue at hand. I was skeptical him calling it a meeting but I agreed to meet with them and they said they would be in the states within 60 days. We had a plan to meet in the Bay area and my father’s friend asked me not to have any contact with anyone on social media until they met with me. A couple days later the covid pandemic came out and there was a hold put on international flights. About A week or so later, I received A phone call from my father. I was so nervous when he called because I hadn’t talked to him since I was A child. The conversation we had turned out to be really good. He seemed like A kind person with A big heart. He kept telling me how much he loved me and how he wanted to come to the states and give me A big hug. He said I’d always be A member of his household. He even asked to speak with my mother and they talked for awhile. After that phone call I had with him, my life fell completely downhill. I ended up homeless and I asked his friend to see if he could help me. He said he spoke with my father and he promised to give me some money so I could get on my feet. I gave his friend my bank info but I got nothing. I started giving up on life and I ended up incarcerated again. I was sentenced to four years with half in prison for criminal threats. I just recently got released and I’m back home on summer homeless on the streets. I reached out to my father again through WhatsApp. I explained everything that’s been happening with me and my current living situation but once he read my message, he blocked me. I reached out to his friend. The middleman, and he ignored me.
I thought my dream of actually meeting my father was going to come true. I thought I was actually going to be able to meet him for the first time and I thought that he was going to change my life around for the better but that didn’t happen. I’ve always been bothered from the fact that my father is a very wealthy man who grew up in a 64-room mansion and I’ve always been poor. I became homeless for the first time when I was 16. I’ve had a lot of obstacles in my life and I’m still going through them. Everything I’ve encountered inspired me to write a book about my life. I might not be able to be in my father’s life but I have the chance to share my life story and be heard. I’ve been told by a lot of people in the family that my father’s a millionaire. One person said he’s a billionaire. When I was 19 years old I came in contact with someone who went to school with my father and he told me that my dad was rich. I don’t know if he’s in the billions or millions but I honestly just wanted to get to know the man. I was never after his money. I would be happy just to have a roof over my head and gave my life together.
It’s been a while since I decided to be away, even though I got a lot of sympathy as well as negativity from the readers. I want to thank all of you for your prayers and all the information that I received though all these years. If I decided to be away is because I needed a time to breathe and think on the next steps that we will take to continuing with the ghost search to get the signatures we need in order for Sami to move freely and to have a “normal” life but most importantly to be able to answer all of his questions regarding his roots.
First of all, I want to clarify something so important which is I AM NOT ASKING FOR MONEY. My intention to publish all this information have never been and will never be to be the liar witch who just wants Alrajhi’s money, the one that Sulaiman created to protect himself to be punished for being a liar. The only thing I am asking for is to get my son’s freedom which have been taken away for his father selfish mind and behave, and whose Saudi’s agencies (AWASEER, MOFA, SACM, SAUDI EMBASSY, and SAUDI SOCIETY OF HUMAN RIGHTS) are refusing to get involved.
Since the documentary was published, I think it is appropriate to provide to the audience with a little bit of background about my son story, to seek to get Sulaiman providing answers to Sami and complete all his paperwork. If you know Sulaiman please let him know that his 10 year old son is looking after him. His dream is to be able to meet him and have the chance to know why he left him 10 years ago.
Sulaiman Abdulaziz Saleh Abdullah Alrajhi was born on April 16th. 1985 in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. Since Alrajhi family is a big family, I realized that many people might have the same name and even some of them might have his full name.
I start searching for him because I really needed the full custody of my son to be able to move freely and to make his life easier, Sami has a lot of dreams to travel abroad and play squash professionally. I am still paying a fine for everyday he is illegal here; I am still fighting to get the full custody of Sami but most importantly I have been leading with the ghost and with the fact that Sami want to talk with his father and get some answers of where he belongs ….
Though all these years I have been trying my best to get Sami’s full custody, but I haven´t succeed yet. I went to the Saudi Embassy in Washington in 2013, I contacted the Saudi Embassy in Los Angeles, New York, and Mexico without success. I have keep contacting AWASEER, MOFA, SACM, and SAUDI SOCIETY OF HUMAN RIGHTS without success. And even though I have not gotten a real answer and sometimes any answer I will never give up until Sami is able to be completely be free. Even if is so tiring I won´t never give up!
On mid-2019 we needed to renew Sami’s passport. We attended to fill the documentation of missing parent but we couldn´t get his passport because they want to talk with Sulaiman or have a proof of full custody which I don´t have it because since Sami was born Sulaiman refuses to sign it. So, I decided to look for Sulaiman phone number and I called him through Skype because I knew he wouldn´t answer if I call from my phone. He replied, I asked if he was Sulaiman (I knew he was because of his voice, I will never forget that voice) and he said yes, when I said “hi, this is Mandre I need to talk about your son”, he said that I got the wrong number and end up the phone call. I sent him a WhatsApp message but he never replies. I contacted again the Islamic Center in Guatemala and again we tried to spoke with Sulaiman father (Abdulaziz) who said that we were blackmailing him even though we stated clearly that we just need a signature to get Sami’s full custody. He asked for proofs that Sami is Sulaiman’s son, we provided all the supportive documents, and he was stubborn that we wanted money which is not the case since from all these years I have been working very hard to support Sami’s needs. This was a conversation between a member of the Islamic Center and Mr. Abdulaziz that “supposedly” fears Allah. I can understand Mr. Abdulaziz behavior probably he believed on Sulaiman lies about his son Sami and me.
Prophet’s (peace be upon him) saying: “Children have three rights over their father: that he gives them a good name, teach them how to read and write, and marry them off when they mature.” And in another Hadith, he said, “Love your children, and be kind and merciful to them. Fulfill your promises made to them since children consider their father to be the one who provides for their sustenance.” Once he said that Sami will know who his father is and will have a relationship with him even if we were not together, so far, he hasn´t fulfill his promise. I want to state clearly that Sulaiman has always have the doors open whenever he wants to be close to Sami, he doesn´t need to have any relationship with me since now Sami is old enough to talk to him with some privacy.
Sami is 10-year-old now, by time passed by, he has been having many questions about his dad. Sometimes he is stable and some others he starts to feel very anxious because he knows that his dad is alive but is not having a relationship with him. As I mentioned before his dream is to get to know his father and to be able to talk to him. He has always dream on the day he finally gets to know him. He has been asking question like: Is my father taking care of other kids in Saudi and that is the reason he is not communicating with me? Who is my father? What were you doing in this picture? When I would be able to meet my father? Do you think one day I would be able to go to Saudi Arabia to meet my father and his family? Does my dad loved you and you loved him? And so on…
I am worried about his mental health and emotional stability. As we all might know abandoned child would suffer if he knew that his father is alive and has willfully run away after abandoning him. These children will suffer from depression and anxiety most of their lives and will feel insecure and unwanted.
I can be called gold digger, bi***, liar, or whatever you want me to be, because I know who I am and what happened. But what I won´t never accept my son to be mistreated. I feel so guilty of not giving my son the “right father”, for not knowing that something like this will happen, for falling in love and believe on Sulaiman but most of all for not being able to do something to answer all his questions and complete the missing piece.
If you know Sulaiman Abdulaziz Alrajhi, please let him know that this is what we need that he has so far refused to provide :
Sami needs to be free; he needs his paperwork done and this can only be done by getting his full custody.
This post is on behalf of Guadalupe. This is to remind you, Ahmed Yousef Alshayeb, from Al Hofuf KSA, that you fathered a daughter during your 2 year relationship with Guadalupe while you were here in the US for school (remember the ring you bought her?). Your daughter’s name is Alondra.
Apparently, after your daughter was born, you decided to cut off contact with Guadalupe and when she tried to reach out to your family, they blocked her on social media.
This is no way to treat the mother of your child. So to you, and the Alshayeb family..shame on you
Terri has reached out to the website in hopes of locating her father. This is her story:
This is my Father, Ahmed Al Dossary. I was born April 14th 1978 at Lake Forest hospital in Lake Forest, Illinois. I was given up for adoption at at about a month old, and was born without a thyroid. My mother was only 17 years old and a runaway herself, he called her Malik (meaning Angel in Arabic.) Her name was Angela Martin.
I was born Terri Lee Martin, the man who signed my birth certificate was his best friend/ cousin. I think his name was Fahd. or something similar. Details of the man who signed it are, birthday June 1955, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. My father gave my older “adopted” sister an arab barbie to be given to me when I knew the truth of my adoption. I didn’t know I was adopted until I was twelve, I didn’t know alot of truths until Christmas a few years ago.
The things I was told about Ahmed was that he liked horses, cowboys, Andy Kaufman. He could speak 7 languages, and that he did want me. However, he wanted to take me back to Saudi Arabia and raise me muslim.
My biological mother refused to marry him or leave her country. I was about a month old when she found out that I was born without a thyroid, and her guardian’s ex-wife and husband adopted me. She was originally hired to be a nanny to their two youngest boys nanny. My adopted brother Mikey was particularly close to him. I’ve been told he was part of the royal family of Saud. I’m telling this for the sake of identity and not because I want anything more to actually know who he is, besides a face in a picture. Honestly, I’ve lived almost 43 years without him and if he still chooses to not walk through a door I opened for him, it’s on him. but it is opened, and I want him to know he has 2 gorgeous grandsons age 17 and 14.
If anyone has any information about Ahmed Al Dossary, his daughter is trying to contact him. You can email the website at firstname.lastname@example.org
First of all…hi! It’s been a few years, and since the site is up and running again ( more on that in a minute ), I figured I would give you all an update on our situation. As of my last writing, my son Joseph was only 3 , and I was scouring everywhere trying to find any kind of medical info I could, from allergies to diseases that run in his lineage. Things looked and felt a little bleak, and I had serious doubts about the future.
Fast forward 5 years, and things couldn’t be more different. Joey is now about to turn 11, and is as healthy as can be. He was diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum upon entering kindergarten, but he has not suffered in the slightest. He is fascinated with temperatures, measurement scales , and all things scientific, as well as learning words in as many languages as possible. He doesn’t seem to care about a lot of the typical things 11 year old boys tend to, but that’s just part of what makes him unique. He is happy, healthy, and growing faster than I can stand.
We moved from Ohio down to sunny Florida in the summer of 2016, and I can tell you with no hesitation, trading in snow for beach sand was the best decision we have ever made. We actually get blue skies down here! Joey misses the cold, but doesn’t complain when he can ride his bike 365 days of the year. You can’t put a price on that.
Shortly after we became former Ohioans, Trump was elected. Not by me or my husband mind you, as neither of us can stand the Cheetoh in Chief, but after 8 years of relative normalcy, it seemed like every leader we had abandoned all pretense of humanity and decided a free for all money grab was what we elected them to do. 3 years into his reign, and all it seemed all Trump was capable of doing was careening between lies while dismantling every safety precaution Obama ever put into place. All that would have been disastrous enough without a plague-like virus descending on the entire human populace, but, alas, here we are. And that kind of brings me to my point. Why did I bring the site back?
It was not an easy decision, to be sure. It was a strain on my time, my family life, and a drain of resources, both personal and financial. But after being cooped up in a state of quarantine / enforced social distancing, I realized how much I craved a return to normalcy. To being able to go outdoors, to parks, to beaches. To have real human interaction beyond my kids asking what time I was making dinner. And, after speaking to some old friends who decided to help me with content and administrative duties, I decided to reopen the site. Because I know the kind of relative discomfort I and others may feel by being isolated is nothing compared to the upheaval my life went through when Joey was born, and his biological father promptly disappeared. I know that kind of hurt, and I take a little comfort in knowing that I can provide A) a little help, B) a place to tell your story and vent if needed, and C) a sense of community, so that people in my situation know that they are not alone. Keep in mind, I started the site originally because of how close to home this issue hit, but that is not the case any more. Joey is in a loving home, with a proud adoptive father, loving older sister, and a mother who would give the world to see him happy. He will never want for anything, nor most likely ever have any need to question what happened to his father. There are lots of children out there, however , who will not be as lucky, and when the time comes, they will deserve answers. If I can help in any way to provide those answers, then I will rest happy. I want to help others that are where I was, because I know not everyone will be as lucky as me, so maybe I can pay a little of my luck forward. I look forward to tomorrow much more than ever before, and will be talking to you again soon.