We're in a very precarious position right now of worrying about her wanting to help and feeling really helpless. So it's nice to just be able to have a voice. I feel like part of this challenge for me in particular as a sibling is not having a place to have a voice and to have support and talk about the impact and the trauma that it's had on me over all these years. My fear is it's not going to subside like it used to because she doesn't have
the supports anymore. She doesn't have the community support anymore at all, at least right now. You know, I've been here before and then something happens or someone comes out of the woodwork and things get a little better. So I can't predict. I have to just be in the moment and be where I'm at now and and try to work with that as best I can.
Since starting this podcast, I've spoken very openly to our guests about mental illness and the impact it can have on those living with schizophrenia and their family members. It's not easy to talk about this illness, and it's not easy to see what this illness can do to your beloved sister, your brother, your mom, your and your uncle emotionally, psychologically and physically. Today on Look Again: Mental Illness Re-Examined.
I'll be having a very honest and frank and vulnerable conversation with Yusuf Faqiri about what it's like to have a sibling with a serious mental illness. Yusuf's brother, Soleiman , had schizophrenia, and in December of 2016, he died in an Ontario jail. Soleiman had been charged with assault and uttering threats after an altercation with a neighbour and was waiting for psychiatric care at a mental health facility when he died.
Having a sibling that has a serious mental illness can be incredibly difficult and can make you feel extremely helpless. How are siblings supposed to provide care and support and compassion while at the same time taking care of themselves? It's definitely not easy. Yusuf, I so appreciate you being here with me today to talk about your brother and the impact that he's had on your life. Thanks for being here.
Laura Rothman and Raheem, thank you so much, Faydra, for your courage and giving me an opportunity to share about Soleiman, a story that many of us throughout our nation from coast to coast, have a story as your beloved sister or my late brother. Very grateful to be here with you today.
So, Yusuf, let's start off by talking about your brother Soleiman and his journey with schizophrenia.
My family came here to Canada as refugees from Afghanistan in the early 1990s. And what was very interesting is that growing up, Soleiman was the one that was able to adjust to this new culture, this new society, better than all his other siblings. Soli was a gifted athlete, a gifted mind. He ended up getting into the University of Waterloo's engineering program. He was the golden boy of the family, the star of the family that my parents
skipping war. That's what he represented. And then in the spring of 2005, Soli, he got into a car accident. And it was after that car accident that within a couple of weeks after being examined, this funny man was diagnosed with this illness that we call schizophrenia. And that's where our story started. And it was a painful one. An extremely painful one.
Absolutely. Now, how old was Soleiman when he was diagnosed?
Was 19 years old.
And so that would have put you a couple of years older then?
Yeah. Soli and I were 18 months apart. Growing up, we were very close and both incredibly profound and fascinating is that his illness also brought us closer to all the pain and difficulty as a sister and as a brother. We feel like a certain love and also as you articulate early, like an obligation to be able to be there for one another. And I'm not going to sugarcoat this and say that it was easy. I was devastated at the night. I got a phone call. I was
studying at Waterloo University. My mom calls me and says, Soli, he's been diagnosed with schizophrenia. And I went to my best friend. We were roommates. And for four or five hours I was crying to him because for me that night, what it did was and and this is where the cultural stigma comes in. And in Soli's case, there's almost like a double or triple cultural stigma that, like, first
within our general Canadian society, that stigma existed. And then there was within the Muslim community that my family comes from, there's that cultural stigma. And then also within the Afghan community, there's this cultural stigma. For me, in my head, there's a derogatory term in Persian that refers to people with mental illness as psychotic. The one up one of the first times I used that term, he went upstairs and he got a glass filled with half of the was
all of his medications. Like, 'You think I chose this illness , Yusuf?'. And so that in itself is me exhibiting the cultural stigma within the Afghan Muslim community. All too often within my cultural and religious communities is that the go- to is you hide these individuals from family or you don't talk about them. Erase their identity. Here I was selfish thinking about, in many ways my old self in my whole family.
Yusuf, please don't beat yourself up over as you said, thinking selfishly. That is not selfish. You or we just don't know how to react. As we know, I also lost my sister to schizophrenia, and for the longest time I didn't even acknowledge that I had a sister because it was just easier. So I do get it. I do get it. Soleiman was, as you said, the golden child, that he was the one who adapted the most when you moved to Canada. And then he had that accident. What changes did you see after that?
For example, there would be an obsession with certain things, right? Like to be cleaning the house or I would argue it's a bit excessive. One of the common ones was that he suffered throughout his illness with insomnia so he wouldn't be sleeping at night and getting up in the morning and be scared. The extreme levels of emotion or be more reactive. And these were things that came out of nowhere for us. So it was quite a struggle.
I am so appreciative that you were able to talk about your story and talk about your brother. How did your mother respond to that news?
I went back to Pickering, Ontario, after Soli was diagnosed. It was a week after and she took all of us in a room, including my father. She said, 'You're going to accept my son for who he is.' And she looked at all of us in the this including my father and her four other kids. You know, Faydra that was a turning point that forever changed our relationship on how we would deal with Soli. But because my mom created that space of dismantling that stigmatization, it didn't exist within
our family. It was not a perfect relationship. But what that did is that it set the tone. Because my mother was the matriarch. When her mother was the woman who survived or who lost siblings as a result of the war, but always remained resilient. And that comment flipped our own relationship with mental illness. Effectively, what it did is that it opened the door for Soli to have somewhat of
a thriving life. It put to rest in some ways the stigma that existed within my religious community and within my cultural community. And I look back at that moment. And I say to myself, What if my mom didn't do that? And even now, today Faydra, as we've been fighting to gain justice for Soli behind the scenes. The person that propels me every day and being able to do what I'm able to do is my mother. And so when people see the love of the mother can change the world,
it certainly can. Not an expert, but someone who's shown her love and her strength. And looking at her son ultimately as a human being, as her son, not as Soli with schizophrenia.
I was incredibly powerful. And as you said, the strength of our mothers and the strength of family. And I so appreciate what your mother said to you and your siblings and your father that day, because it is so true. Solomon was Solomon first before he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Thank you for sharing that. And now we're going to talk about that awful day in December of 2016. Yusuf, please take us back to that day. In 2016?
Absolutely. Actually, a couple days before that day, my dad and I thought that Soli was only there for 11 days. So and my dad and I got a confirmation that the judge would order Soli to go to a psychiatric institution, as you mentioned, Ontario Shores Centre for Mental Health. We were like, okay, happy, great. So li will be taken care of by the system. And you talk about that helpless helplessness. What was interesting Faydra was those 72 hours,
the Monday and until the Thursday. The three days were the only time when my family did not feel helpless. Look at the ironic paradox here right, because we felt that okay is finally going to get the help. I just want to take you back there for a second. My Thursday was a very interesting day. Very normal as it would be. I took the Go train into downtown Toronto to go to work, did some of my work in the office. I came home and I'm sitting in my bed around 8:30-9:00 p.m. and I am talking to a
friend and my sister barges in 'Soli's dead'. And I hang up the call, I run down downstairs. And I see two police officers talking to my father. But then I go to the kitchen island where Soli and my mom would often spend time together, and I see my mom wearing her black hijab and a robe . And pacing, Faydra, around the kitchen. And so she said in Farsi. سلیمان سولی. من بهت شیر دادم من بهت شیر دادم چرا من را ترک کردی؟ چرا رفتی؟ , which basically means 'Soli, I gave you milk. I gave
you milk. Why did you leave me? Why did you leave?' And she kept repeating this. I sit her at her dining room and she just burst out crying. But holds my hand and looks at me in the eyes. Yusuf, I need you to find out what happened to my son. So for me. I'm calming her down, and I'm still processing my own pain. I'm not even getting a chance to mourn because I'm now being the oldest. And sometimes you have to remember these layers when you have families
that don't speak English. You're managing two cultures sometimes, and sometimes you forget. What about you? Right. You don't have any answers. And at the same time, Sohrab and Ali, my two other brothers are out. They don't know what's going on. And I then call my brother Sohrab first . I tell him to come home, please. I was trying to prevent on telling him this over the phone. I fought to give him some dignity. But because I was so
vulnerable and he kept pushing, I said 'Soli's dead. He's dead.' I'll never forget that day.
Know that day will be forever ingrained in your mind. And how has that day impacted your life since December of 2016?
When I think of that day, I'm going to start with this word in Arabic, we say ولله الحمد, which means all praise be to God, we thank God. And so what that means is we're very grateful for what he gave us Soli, we believe Soli belonged to him and you went back to him. So we're grateful for the time. But to talk to you in a vulnerable space and to put this into perspective, because I think it's important as you've made yourself vulnerable, is. It's been a painful day.
It's been a painful six years. There's a price that myself and my family paid. Soli paid with his life. We also paid the price in terms of choosing the option of fighting back. That was our choice, and I've come to appreciate that decision more, Faydra, because in many ways, in the way I've gone about it, it costs me other things than life. I have no regrets in terms of if I could go back, I would do it again. But when I set out to fight, I did not expect it to be this long. I did not expect it.
I didn't appreciate the emotional part. You talked at the beginning of what? Emotional. Physical. All this stops. I didn't appreciate that it was going to take a toll. I had friends telling me at the beginning use of take care of yourself. Be careful. You need to put yourself first. In my head, I'm thinking like.
How do you how do you do that?
And if you come from certain cultures, what happens is you're not supposed to be, quote unquote, weak. There's nothing wrong with being vulnerable, but there's something wrong lying to yourself about your emotional vulnerability. I made that mistake and I paid the price. Because what would happen often times throughout these six years I would come home and some nights that grief comes in. Sometimes that emotional pain comes in.
And for me, because it was such a public fight, when you do media interviews, when you speak publicly, when you articulate it, deep down, the heart is very fragile. That fragility of that heart is taking a beating. I pay that price and it's something that I'm still learning. And at times I ask myself, 'When is it time to move on?' Or when is it time to say to yourself, that what you did is the best you could?
And I remind myself that if I leave this earth today, if my time comes today, I can see with humble conviction that I truly did the best I could with the tools that I had. And for me, the proudest moment of all this is that we did it in a dignified way. We didn't do it through anger or through reaction. We did it through the way that we want people with mental illness to be treated with respect, with honour, with a belief that their story matters, their
voice matters. They need to be heard. I learned that from my mother, and Soli in many ways played that role. Whether it was giving tea to people as they came to our house or whether it was teaching my mom how to read. When teaching my brother Ali how to drive. This was all after his illness, Faydra. We often make the mistake sometimes, though, when we hear if somebody is schizophrenic, she has a mental illness that is that they're subhuman,
that they're incapable. We need to shift those comments and to know that's Soli . That's Sandra. That's Yusuf. They have a story to tell. Their stories about who they are and their character, not what their mental illness is. That's only a part of them.
And I know that you've been very public and you've done many media interviews. What keeps you going, Yusuf?
Having that hope for one day, not just metaphorically, but literally. We build the Garden of Hope and the many other Canadians that have suffered from mental illness that should be treated with dignity and honor, not with indignation, not with being humiliated, but with respect. That's what keeps me going.
That's incredible. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you.
You're listening to Look Again: Mental Illness Re-Examined. A podcast brought to you by the B.C. Schizophrenia Society and B.C. partner organizations. I'm your host, Faydra Aldridge . This podcast would not be possible without the support of the community. From the bottom of our hearts, we want to thank you for caring about serious mental illness and everything that's around it. Together, we truly can make a difference. And welcome back to Look Again:
Mental Illness Re-Examined. I'm Faydra Aldridge and I've been speaking to Yusuf Faquiri about his brother Soleiman, who lived with schizophrenia until his death in 2016. Yusuf, I'd like to play a clip now from someone who also has a sibling with schizophrenia and how that's impacted them. Let's take a listen now.
When I got married recently, I did feel resentment, mixed emotions, and. Everyone was very concerned about my brother and being around people drinking and what the plan was and keep an eye on him. And there is like a part of me that that was my day. That's something I've been looking forward to. And even that day still had to have a lot of my brother's care involved and I wouldn't change it for the world. I wanted him there.
That was very important to me. But there is still that part of you that wishes that sometimes you could have a day off.
So you have did you ever feel like that when your brother was alive, that feeling of resentment or just that you wanted a day off.
Thank you so much. No one's ever asked this question. To be honest, the answer is yes. I'll tell you one night. I think it's the same thing in B.C.. When you involuntary put someone, they can only hold them, I think, up until 72 hours. But most of the time that they let them go out after 24 hours. So one night we put Soli in the hospital. They took him, the on call doctor did an assessment. Not
even a psychiatrist, Faydra. It's usually the on call, doctor. I deliberately made sure and tried my best for him to take him to the hospital. They usually just assess. So for about two or 3 hours, I'm always calling. Has Soli even been assessed? Is he going to be put into the psychiatric ward? So that night I called for a few times. They kept saying, oay, not yet. We're going to like,
examine him'. I take an hour nap after that and I call back the hospital's like 'Oh, your brother has been released.' Was like around 11 or midnight. I'm like, 'Are you guys kidding me?' I was perplexed. My brother needs to stay here. And so now around midnight, I go downstairs and I tell my mom we need to leave. So for like, 3 hours in Scarborough, in a robe and me in my slippers for three hours are walking the streets near the hospital trying to get a hold of Soli.
And thankfully, like, it was amazing with Soli that whenever he saw my mom, there was never any resistance ever. And so we felt we dodged a bullet. And there was many of these nice feature. And so for me, when you asked me that question, the answer is yes. Not because of Sully, but because of the system's selfishness and the fact that they don't create more beds or more mechanism and place or more cultural competency support for people
that are suffering from mental illness. All too often what happens is that if you don't have a family, you know this better than me advocating for you. Within the system, those individuals are more likely to fall through the cracks. And so , Faydra, there was times when I was like 'Oh God' another time when you're woken up from your sweet sleep, you get resentful. And most of the time the resentment was towards Soli. But how could I really blame him? And how could we really bring your sister?
And it's the illness. And that's something I say a lot that wasn't my sister when she was violent or saying things. It was the illness. It was not my sister.
Absolutely. Absolutely.
Yeah. And I think, you know, for you and I, Yusuf, from the sibling perspective, it's a very difficult position for siblings to be in. Because on the one hand, we're trying to protect our parents and we're trying to do everything we can to shield them from the pain. And then on the other hand, we're also trying to protect our sibling that has the mental illness. So we're trying to do everything we can to shield them. And then
where does that leave us, the siblings. So I think feeling resentment, as you said, is a very natural feeling that we as siblings, all experienced at one time. The question is, how do we deal with that resentment and how do we move forward? And I think you are an amazing example Yusuf of being able to move forward.
It means a lot Faydra, your comments. And as siblings like to add, there's always that struggle of making both worlds happy, right?
That's right.
But what all too often happens is when you make those both worlds happy, you make the mistake of if you cannot take care of yourself, which is the third part of that world of four of yourself, you really can't make the other two happy because that'll come in another price. And for me, at times, because one parent was struggling on accepting Soli's illness, my father, versus my mom, who was
really leading the charge. And here I am in the middle, sometimes living literally in two worlds when the system itself cannot be counted on to protect these individuals that suffering from mental illness. It very much is like a survival mechanism. And it breaks my heart.
As you and I know all too well, Yusuf, There are so many complex emotions involved with having a sibling with schizophrenia. So, Yusuf, if I want to get back to your mother and you said earlier that she guided your family to lead with compassion and she was the matriarch when it came to your brother and when it came to seeing your brother as an individual first. Can you tell me more about what your mother has taught you, especially now that Solomon is gone?
One of the things that my mom told me very shortly after Soli's death was I don't have the tongue, but you do, because my mom speaks English, but not in the way she wants to. I know for that in itself is that I would have seen my mother speaking about her son. And so for me, there is almost this responsibility to call her and say 'Mama, what do you need to do?' For me, it's very important. So that's one part. The second part, we would not be here today if it
was not for my mother supporting me, leading. My mother t o the naked eye is a simple woman, but she is much more than that. Her skill set is a resilience. And that's what's shaped me and transformed myself.
Thanks for sharing that. I would love to meet your mother. She sounds fantastic.
Thank you.
So, Yusuf, you keep saying you're fighting, and I have to ask, what are you fighting for today?
I'm fighting for the Soleiman Faquiris , I'm fighting for the Carissas, I'm fighting for the Pierre Coriolans, the Justin St- Amours, the Jordan Sheards, , the Cass Gettys , the Moses Beavers, the Ashley Smiths, the Justin Hines, the many Canadians that have lost their lives who suffer from mental illness at the hands of the opaque justice system, the lack of transparency and accountability . I'm fighting for the honor and the respect of Canadians for vulnerable,
they need support. And ultimately, I'm fighting for the Soleimans and many other Canadians that are suffering from mental illness to live a life filled with honor and dignity. And with respect. And although the word fight in itself might be seen as an innocuous term or combative, for me, the word fight, you could always use the word justice. I am articulating our hope to create a system filled
with justice. That's what's ultimate. The guards, Faydra, that took my late brother's life, I'm not fighting revenge against them or the police forces that have failed to do the right thing. Not pressing charges against the guards who took my brother's life. For them, they have a conscience, Faydra. They have to live with themselves for what they did. That's not for me to decide. What I'm going to do is honor my late brother and let people know who he was.
And the last part is that I'm fighting to make sure that Soleiman's death is not the last chapter of his life. This is the ultimate fight for me. I don't want our siblings to be a footnote in the history books. I want their names to be set far and wide because they deserve that.
Yeah. Wow. You are an incredible brother. Yusuf, thank you for sharing that. And now one final question for you Yusuf, what is next for you? Where do you go from here?
Important question. What's next for me ultimately? And I've made this decision recently is to take care of Yusuf as in our discussion, have a family to be able to honor my brother that way, because I know Soli would want that. What's next for me is to live my life never forgetting my brother. I visit Soli every Friday. But to go and live my life in the way that my
brother would have wanted me to live. What that looks like, I'm not sure I will try in my humble efforts to be involved, such as having the honor and opportunity to speak before all of you, Faydra, and having this conversation with you. We'll see what the story is left for me. But one thing is certain my brother's story will continue to be honored.
And there are many Soleiman and many Carissas , my sister, that are out there and there are many siblings like us that never ever want to forget our siblings. So thank you so much for joining me today in this very emotional and open conversation. I truly, truly enjoyed our conversation and thank you for your openness, for your honesty and for everything you have done and continued to do to shine the light on serious mental illness. Yusuf, thank you for being with me today.
Thank you so much, Faydra. May God bless you. God bless everyone. And I certainly hope that the Carissas and the Soleimans around us, the future ones, will be living lives filled with dignity and honor. There are beautiful souls that need to be celebrated, respected, and ones whose legacies will lift to us and to the work that we do. And their stories have not finished. So thank you. And I'm very appreciative of the time that you gave me today.
And a huge thank you to your audience for joining us for this very powerful episode. Together, we can change the narrative around mental illnesses like schizophrenia and help end the many myths and stereotypes that still exist today. If you have any questions or any comments, tweet us @ B.C. Schizophrenia. To get our latest episodes, be sure to follow on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or anywhere you listen to podcasts. And
here's another podcast you may be interested in. Fireweed is a podcast brought to you by the British Columbia Institute of Technology that explores stories of adaptability and resilience. And they're back for season to follow. Host Bianca Rego, who talks to experts and innovative thinkers who are reshaping their industries with new technologies, new thoughts and new approaches. Listen to Fireweed wherever you get your podcasts. We hope you
join us next episode. Thanks for listening. Talk to you soon.
This podcast is brought to you by the B.C. Schizophrenia Society and the BC Partners for Mental Health and Substance Use information. We're a group of non-profit agencies providing good quality information to help individuals and families maintain or improve their mental well-being. The B.C. partners members are Anxiety Canada, B.C. Schizophrenia Society, Canadian Institute for Substance Use Research, Canadian Mental
Health Association's B.C. Division Family Smart, Jessie's Legacy. The North Shore Family Services Program and Mood Disorders Association of B.C., a branch of Lookout, Housing and Health Society. The B.C. Partners are funded and stewarded by B.C. Mental Health and Substance Use Services, an agency of the Provincial Health Services Authority. For more information, visit heretohelp.bc.ca .