Mahir Hamid was placed in Bishkek, Kyrgyz Republic, as part of AKFC’s International Youth Fellowship program. Read his Dispatch to learn more about his experience, and how it changed his professional and personal perspectives.
The first time I got in a yandex (taxi) in Bishkek, the driver thought I was a medical student. I laughed.
With over 26,000 Indians and Pakistanis studying medicine here, it’s no surprise some locals assume I’m one of them (I’m Bangladeshi). In a way, I arrived with a similar purpose as many future doctors — to learn how to make a positive difference in people’s lives.
I’m currently based in Kyrgyzstan as an International Microfinance & Microenterprise Fellow. I work at Accelerate Prosperity, an initiative focused on financing and accelerating small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) in developing regions around the world. Pretty much the furthest thing from medical school.
Before coming here, I was wrapping up my final year as a commerce student at Queen’s University, without a clear plan for what was next. I was deeply immersed in the student extracurricular scene, where I was leading, but not really growing.
By the end of my fourth year, I was President of the Commerce Society and had led two entrepreneurship clubs. I got so accustomed to the workflow that I hit a ceiling for improvement. I knew I needed a serious change — new people, a new pace, and a new perspective.
When the Fellowship opportunity came, I wrestled with whether it was the right move, but now, it’s clear: nothing could have sparked my growth like this experience. Here’s what I’ve learned.
1. You don’t know you’re in a bubble until you leave
If you asked me how I spent my time in a day 10 months ago, it would go something like this:
- 40% on random club meetings
- 30% on my club Slack servers
- 30% on pacing back and forth at my business school or the library, trying to figure out my life
My communities at Queen’s meant everything to me. In my bubble, everyone could feel the strides my clubs were making.
In the commerce program, everyone was obsessed with recruiting. I don’t think I could go a day on campus without hearing the words “investment banking” or “consulting”. Your self-worth was tied to the firm you worked at. And I was totally part of that cycle — I won’t pretend I wasn’t. But when you’re in that bubble, it’s hard not to be.
In Toronto, my friends and commerce grads are now in prestigious corporate roles. But instead of the club culture and recruiting gossip that once dominated our conversations, it’s shifted to how sleep-deprived they are, the long hours they work, and the challenges of navigating office politics. Don’t get me wrong, these jobs are excellent. There’s a reason why the brightest students flock to these career paths. But to me, it highlights how easy it is to become consumed by your job and lose sight of the bigger world.
It wasn’t until I arrived in Bishkek that I realized how much more there was to think about. Every day brought new experiences, and I found myself constantly asking questions like:
- Why do so many Kyrgyz people leave to work in neighboring countries?
- What causes the huge divide in business literacy between urban and rural areas here?
- Why are social media and personal branding taken so seriously here?
The conversations I have, the people I meet, and how I spend my time are vastly different from what they used to be.
2. Where you grow up shapes your life
When I first compared my Fellowship stipend to the six-figure salaries that my commerce peers were making straight out of undergrad, I was disappointed. It was a tough pill to swallow.
But once I settled into Bishkek, I quickly realized the value of purchasing power.
The average monthly salary here is around 32,000 SOM, which is about $500 CAD. That’s what many breadwinners earn to support entire families.
A couple of months ago, I met a local student applying to U.S. universities. My first thought was, “how could someone from here ever afford that?” The truth is, most can’t. She, like many others, relies completely on scholarships and aid. Even the wealthiest families here struggle to cover the full cost of a North American education.
I met many young students like her by leading the English Talking Club— a free conversation and public speaking program for locals in Bishkek —at the University of Central Asia. Each student’s story has deepened my understanding of life and economic challenges here. One student shared how she grew up without her parents, who had to move abroad to Russia for work to send money home. It’s a common story — remittances make up 30 percent of Kyrgyzstan’s GDP.
There isn’t much that separates those two students from me. We are all young, ambitious, and dreaming of becoming influential leaders. But our situations couldn’t be more different, simply because I’m from Canada, and they’re from Kyrgyzstan.
As a Bangladeshi immigrant to Canada, I’ve always seen my path as more challenging than my peers’. I’ve faced economic uncertainty and had to break through structural barriers to find success. Despite these challenges, moving to Toronto unlocked a future of opportunities and prosperity that I likely never would have had in Dhaka.
3. I’m sorry, Ammu and Baba
Moving to a new country is hard.
Many of my conversations rely on Google Translate. Calls home to Canada happen late at night or early morning. The food is completely different from what I’m used to having. I’m often in settings where I’m completely alone.
For me, this is just a glimpse of what my parents must have felt when they packed up their entire lives in Dhaka and moved to Toronto.
Growing up, I was an obedient kid, until I started developing the ability to question assumptions and critically engage with others. As my perspective grew, I began to challenge my parent’s views. We disagreed a lot. Maybe it’s the typical “rebellious phase” every kid goes through, or maybe I just felt the urge to follow my own heart.
Bishkek has reminded me how much our thoughts are shaped by our environment. Culture, religion, economic conditions, and the people around us all contribute to forming our opinions and worldview.
For my dad, this meant intensely valuing stability because he was raised by a single mother in a politically and economically unstable city. For my mother, it meant cultivating an unbreakable work ethic because education was her family’s only means of social mobility. Both were raised in a society where reputations were shaped by gossip from aunties and uncles. In a world molded by a scarcity mindset, they had to forgo their interests in favor of security.
In contrast, my personal views were shaped by a school system that encouraged independent thinking, an older sister who prized creativity, and a society that encouraged passion.
I now see my parents not just as Ammu and Baba, but as human beings — people who have faced hardship time and time again to build a future for their children. I honestly don’t think I could ever do what they did for me.
While I regret not having this perspective sooner, I’m endlessly thankful to have it now. Bishkek has taught me to be grateful, patient, and most importantly, deeply understanding.
AKFC’s International Youth Fellowship (IYF) program is one of the many ways Canadians can get involved in global development. Since 1989, more than 550 individuals have participated in the IYF program, which offers an intensive, practical, pre-departure training program and an eight-month overseas placement in a meaningful role to recent university graduates and young professionals aged 30 or under.
