From Below Zero: The Hashem Al-Ghaili Story

In many countries, the journey toward achieving a dream begins from zero. Remarkably, starting from zero there is equivalent to an advanced stage here, simply because we begin from far below zero—making the mere act of reaching zero a triumph in itself. Here, dreaming often feels completely impossible, almost a distant fantasy, set in a place that seems entirely detached from the modern world. A dreamer here enters dark mazes and grueling trials that threaten to break them—trials so severe that escaping them is said to be impossible. Only those possessing extraordinary resilience, unwavering determination, and relentless drive can navigate these depths and overcome every obstacle. Even so, the physical and mental toll can be exhausting, leaving one feeling on the verge of collapsing and giving up. Yet, in those darkest moments, a inner voice whispers: "I believe in God, and with Him by my side, I will never surrender. I trust in myself, and I know I will succeed and reach my destination." With that, they piece themselves back together, summon every ounce of strength, and prepare for the road ahead—fully aware that the next stages will be even tougher than the last, yet standing unyielding, unconquerable, like an indestructible superhero. There are places far removed from global progress, yet this has never stopped them from giving birth to geniuses who made the world a better place—visionaries who simplified science and research, and advanced technology until we found ourselves living in today's breathtaking digital age. In one such beautiful mountain village, nestled amid breathtaking nature, a passionate young dreamer fascinated by technology and the future was born: Hashem Al-Ghaili. He arrived into this wondrous world at 2:00 AM on August 11, 1990, into a large family whose noble profession was farming—their sole source of livelihood. This grueling labor did not stand in the way of his ambition. He would wake up at 4:00 AM to head out into the fields and face hard work in the cold, dark dawn. Ax in hand, he would set off, and upon finishing his chores, he would gaze up at the clouds with longing, waiting for the sunrise so he could go to school. The moment his work was done, he would rush straight to his classroom, where the very first steps toward fulfilling his dream began. Upon returning home and having lunch, he would pick up his books and head back to the farm—not just to work, but to study and work simultaneously. Surrounded by nature, he would reflect on the heavy burden he carried. He was a child who naturally should have been playing like other children, yet he chose studying and learning, all while honoring his essential role in a farming family where every member had their part to play. Hashem studied with relentless effort until the day a desktop computer entered their home through his brother. Seeing the machine filled Hashem with immense joy. He approached it and began working on it tirelessly. Despite a weak and slow internet connection, he pushed through to teach himself design, graphics, and video editing. This did not sit well with his brothers, who were exhausting themselves in the fields. Some of them wondered, "Why are we working hard on the farm while he stands in front of that device playing around?" They did not realize he was learning and shaping his future. He stood before the computer screen, eager to absorb anything new, which is why he never blamed them for their frustration. Hashem persevered in this manner until he graduated from high school with a score of 89.50%—a grade that qualified him for a scholarship abroad. However, his father favored farming over academic pursuits. Yet, this did not stop Hashem from pursuing his studies and passion; he remained resolute and decided to apply for the scholarship anyway.He traveled to the city and submitted his papers, only to be presented with a choice: Did he prioritize the field of study, or the country? Hashem thought it over and decided to prioritize his field of study. He selected three majors—Physics and two engineering disciplines—and chose three destinations: Egypt, Jordan, and Syria. Afterward, he returned to his village and waited for the results. Following a long and agonizing wait, he was informed that his assigned major would be Biotechnology, and his destination would be Pakistan. Taken aback, Hashem protested, "But I chose neither this major nor this country!" Their response was blunt: "This is all that is available for you. If you don't like it, you can leave." He pondered deeply and thought to himself, "Alright, I will accept... I have no influential connections, nor anyone to turn to who could change your minds." As he walked away, a wave of anxiety washed over him: "Will I really study in Pakistan, a place so fraught with conflicts? What should I do? Yet, I have no choice. I must be ready to face my destiny alone... Despite the distress and the difficult path ahead, I will reach my goal." What made the burden lighter for Hashem was his brother, Mohammad. The two shared a fierce bond, constantly racing each other in reading books and exploring scientific topics. Recalling one pivotal moment, Hashem reflected, "We were watching television when news broke of devastating tsunamis and earthquakes in Indonesia that claimed countless lives. My brother and I exchanged looks, and a brilliant project idea struck us: inventing an early warning system for tsunamis." Since I had already taught myself graphic design and video editing, transforming our idea into a polished scientific presentation posed no challenge. The two brothers worked tirelessly, day and night, pouring all their energy into it. Once completed, they resolved to submit their report to the Ministry of Higher Education in Sana'a. However, being so young, traveling alone was out of the question—and their father would never allow them to go on their own. This posed a major obstacle, but one they were determined to overcome. They agreed to travel without their father’s permission and approached a local acquaintance who frequently traveled to the capital, asking for his assistance. Checking with them, the man asked, "Does your father know you are traveling?" They answered, "No." He replied, "Don't worry, I will take you." They traveled with him to Sana'a, and upon arrival, they called their father to inform him. He was furious and deeply displeased at the time, but the brothers remained undeterred. They successfully submitted their report to the Ministry of Higher Education, where officials assured them it would be forwarded to Sana'a University for formal review and evaluation. When they returned to the village to face their father, seeing their fierce determination and unwavering resolve completely shifted his perspective—a welcome turning point. They eagerly awaited the university’s response, hoping for a positive outcome. After three months of evaluation, they were invited to deliver a presentation to explain their report in greater detail. They prepared meticulously and presented their findings with absolute clarity. Once they finished, the panel remarked, "Today, advanced systems like satellites perform these functions with far greater precision. However, we see immense ambition and determination in both of you. Therefore, we recommend that you receive scholarships to pursue and deepen your studies in this field."These encouraging words served as a powerful catalyst for Hashem and his brother. They continued researching this project along with other scientific innovations, until his brother secured a scholarship to Malaysia and Hashem received his scholarship to Pakistan. From that moment on, their entire focus shifted to their studies abroad. Yet, one day, someone cautioned him: "If you go to Pakistan, you will only return in a wooden box!" Hashem heard the warning but paid it no mind; his sole focus was chasing his dreams and securing his future. Regardless of the destination, he was ready to take the risk and press forward, indifferent to the consequences—confident that God was with him and would never let him down. In 2007, he prepared his scholarship paperwork and traveled to Sana'a to complete the official procedures. Since the process was lengthy, a friend offered him a place to stay outside the city: an old, dilapidated room barely fit for living. Yet Hashem didn't care. His priority was saving every possible penny for his journey. To support him, his mother had baked traditional bread designed to last for weeks. He survived entirely on that bread, unable to afford anything else; saving money was a matter of life or death for him. Navigating the administrative red tape was exhausting, especially given the extremely limited number of scholarship seats and the uncooperative stance of the Pakistani Embassy. Despite these daunting hurdles, he visited the ministry repeatedly. After a full year of grueling effort, he finally secured his scholarship. In 2008, he prepared to depart alongside his fellow students. Unlike them, however, he couldn't afford new clothes and had to make do with what he already owned. Worse still, he had only $100 to his name, while his peers carried substantial funds. Anxiety weighed heavily on him: "What am I going to do with such a small amount? This is a massive problem!" There was no time or money to return to his village to say goodbye, but his family understood his situation and wished him well. Boarding the plane, he sank into his seat, lost in thought—wondering how he would manage on just $100, especially since his scholarship stipend wouldn't be disbursed for another three months. Overwhelmed by worry, he surrendered his fears to God, trusting that with Him by his side, he would never fall. After long hours of travel, they arrived in Islamabad, where they were met by the embassy's educational and cultural attaché. After welcoming the students, the officials announced: "This is not the city where you will be studying. You are assigned to Peshawar. A bus will pick you up in the morning, and you will cover your own ticket fares. You will also need to pay for tonight's hotel stay, as well as the registration fees for degree equivalency." Listening to them, Hashem’s heart sank: "What? What am I hearing? I have no money! What kind of terrible predicament is this?" With no alternative, he paid for all the expenses. By the end of the day, he was left with a mere $30. It was a perilous situation: "How am I going to survive on this amount? How?" The question haunted him throughout the bus ride, stealing away any enjoyment of the journey. Looking out the window, he observed the city where he was destined to spend the next four years—a modest, underdeveloped place. Yet, its lack of modern infrastructure did not bother him in the least. Shortly after, they reached Peshawar, a city situated near the Afghan border. Upon arriving at the university, Hashem was greeted by a comforting surprise: a group of Yemeni students who had formed an association called the "Yemeni Students Union." As he stepped off the bus, they welcomed the newcomers warmly, introduced themselves, and helped them settle into the dormitories.Hashem was deeply anxious, realizing he lacked the funds for university registration and the remaining administrative fees. He turned to the other students and asked, "Could I borrow some money from you? I need to enroll in the university." They readily agreed: "Yes, of course." Overwhelmed with gratitude, he replied, "Thank you so much. I will repay every penny as soon as my scholarship stipend arrives." A profound sense of relief and indescribable joy washed over him, and he thanked them from the bottom of his heart. Shortly after, he registered at the university, submitted his enrollment proof to the ministry, and embarked on his academic journey, armed with unwavering faith and trust in God. Yet, within the university walls, obstacles began to surface one after another. The very first hurdle was that the curriculum was taught entirely in English, with no preparatory language foundation year provided. Hashem caught himself wondering, "What am I going to do when my English consists of only a few basic words from high school?" To make matters worse, some professors delivered their lectures in a mix of English and Pashto. It was a daunting predicament. He thought to himself: "How am I supposed to study when I barely understand what they are saying? I can't afford a language institute, and the environment outside the campus walls is extremely dangerous, filled with bombings and violence." Nevertheless, he refused to give up. He pushed himself even harder while waiting for his scholarship stipend to arrive. When the funds finally came through after three months, he took the money and immediately bought a laptop to learn English. Because he prioritized buying the laptop, he was unable to repay his debt right away, but he promised his friends he would settle it with the next stipend installment. He began learning English through his laptop, visiting websites, translating every unfamiliar word, and practicing speaking with his friends. Even when they laughed at his pronunciation, he remained unfazed. He pursued his goal relentlessly, studying day and night until he mastered the language. Within just three months, his proficiency improved dramatically, allowing him to fully comprehend his lectures and significantly boost his academic performance. From that moment on, I maintained laser focus, making my studies my ultimate priority. I never stopped striving, pushing myself harder than ever while casting aside all negative thoughts and worries. I kept my eyes solely on the summit, where I knew my dream was waiting for me. One day, I planned to go shopping to pick up a few essential items. For some reason, an inexplicable sense of hesitation washed over me, and I decided not to go. Strangely enough, that very same day, a massive explosion rocked the exact marketplace I was supposed to visit, claiming the lives of nearly 300 people. The blast was so powerful that the shockwave shook the entire university and echoed across the city. Stunned, I reflected on how close I had come, whispering, "Thank God I didn't go." In that moment, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God's protection was always watching over me There at the university, I specialized in Biotechnology—a field that broadly encompasses genetic engineering, human genetics, microbiology, DNA studies, and more. I studied this field with immense passion. When the next scholarship installment arrived, I took the funds and paid off my debts, relieving myself of that heavy burden once and for all. After that came the third stipend installment, amounting to $1,200. I decided to use it to open two bank accounts: one for the local currency and another for foreign currency. I began saving diligently in that account, knowing I would need the money down the road, and spent only on absolute essentials. During my university years in Pakistan (2008–2012), I embarked on a new journey: simplifying science by sharing educational content on Facebook. However, I would temporarily deactivate my account during exam periods, refusing to let anything distract me from my studies—especially since the educational system in Pakistan relied almost entirely on theory rather than practical training. Accessing the laboratories was notoriously difficult, as the administration was overly protective of the equipment, rarely allowing us anywhere near it. This was a major setback, as practical experience was crucial, but with the situation out of our control, we had no choice but to remain silent and focus on theoretical learning. In 2012, I graduated with a Bachelor's degree in Biotechnology, successfully completing four years of rigorous study with distinction. Yet, a sense of something missing always lingered within me, leaving me constantly pondering my future and what lay ahead. It was then that a friend approached me and recommended that I apply for the German Academic Exchange Service scholarship (DAAD). I thought to myself: "That's a brilliant idea! I will apply for the scholarship before returning home, as sending documents to Germany from here will be much more direct and reliable." I submitted my application and waited for a response, deciding not to leave Pakistan until I heard back. As I waited, I allowed myself to dream of how incredible it would be if I were accepted. Before long, I received a notification informing me that I had been shortlisted as a candidate for the scholarship, and that I should await the final decision. Feeling reassured, it was time to return home. But before leaving, I went to the bank to check my foreign currency account—and discovered I had saved $7,000! Overjoyed, I thought to myself: "This is a solid cushion, a truly good amount Afterward, I set off for home without telling my family, wanting my return to be a surprise. A few days later, I arrived in my village, bringing immense joy to my family—especially my mother. Even my father offered his full support; when I shared my future ambitions with him, he encouraged me wholehartedly. I spent a wonderful week with them, yet I knew I couldn't stay for long. Life in the village felt starkly different now; many locals disapproved of my style of dress, my manner of speaking, and various other things. More critically, there was no internet access—and I needed to apply for scholarships and search for employment. Questions constantly weighed on my mind: "What should I do now after graduation? I must find a job first." Driven by this urgency, I traveled to Sana'a to look for work. Upon arriving, I was met with a shocking reality: my field of study had virtually no job market in Yemen, as it was considered entirely new. Disbelief washed over me: "What? I spent four years studying, only to find I can't work in my field here? What kind of situation is this?" I soon learned that my former classmates had abandoned the field altogether, pursuing different disciplines in other countries. Yet I knew they had financial backing, enabling them to travel and study whenever they wished. I had no such support system. Refusing to yield to despair, I resolved not to give up, determined to find a job regardless of whether it aligned with my major or not. Leveraging my fluent English, I applied to local language institutes and waited. Before long, one institute accepted my application and offered me a position—on the condition that my continuation depended on receiving positive feedback from the students. As days passed, I taught using my usual disciplined and structured approach, but the students found it too strict. Consequently, the administration informed me that I could not continue teaching and had to leave. I walked away without even receiving my pay for that month. Yet, this setback did not dishearten me; I had grown accustomed to obstacles crossing my path. Refusing to stand idle, I resumed my job search. When I mentioned my search to a friend, he recommended that I apply to the Yemen Standardization, Metrology and Quality Control Organization (YSMO) in Sana'a. Knowing they housed goods-testing laboratories—specifically a Microbiology Lab—I applied immediately. I was accepted, albeit on the condition of undergoing a three-month unpaid training period.I immediately searched for lodging nearby and rented a room on Hayel Street. As days turned into weeks, I trained at the organization every single day—working tirelessly in the laboratory, constantly learning, and diving deeper into the nuances of the field. To my pleasant surprise, after just one month, they informed me that I had completed my training early, and that I was now eligible to sign a employment contract and collect my first paycheck. Overjoyed, I thought to myself: "Finally, I have a steady job!" Yet, despite this success, an inner void lingered—a feeling that I had so much more left to accomplish. Driven by this ambition, I continued applying for international scholarships. Six or seven months later, an email arrived from Germany notifying me of my acceptance into a Master’s scholarship program. Out of 1,000 applicants, only five had been selected for Master's and PhD studies—and I was one of them! It was one of the most miraculous moments of my life. I found myself asking: "Am I dreaming? I actually won a scholarship to study in Germany! Oh God, I am so incredibly happy... My Lord continuously blesses me with His grace. Praise be to God for everything He has bestowed upon me." Suddenly, the reality of my current job struck me. Colleagues mentioned that if I stayed a bit longer, my temporary contract would turn into a permanent position, allowing me to draw a partial salary while keeping the job open if I traveled. But I couldn't afford to wait. The scholarship had arrived, and with it, a grander dream and ambitions that remained unfulfilled. Without hesitation, I resigned from my position and headed to the German Embassy to complete the necessary travel arrangements. The embassy staff were remarkably cooperative throughout the process. Before long, I packed my bags and flew to Frankfurt, taking a train directly to Dresden. Everything was progressing smoothly, except for the challenge of navigating signage and information written entirely in German. Nevertheless, I asked around until I reached the Goethe-Institut in Dresden, where I was scheduled to undergo German language training before transferring to my university location. At the Goethe-Institut, I met the other scholarship recipients—a diverse group from all over the world, including two fellow Yemenis. Yet, as fate would have it, another major obstacle soon emerged. I discovered that every single student had already secured university admission except for me. The scholarship organization had failed to inform me that obtaining a university acceptance letter was my responsibility—a strict condition for retaining the scholarship, without which it would be revoked and the student deported back home. Panic set in as I thought: "Why is this happening to me? Why now? What am I going to do?" To make matters worse, university application deadlines had already passed. The crisis weighed heavily on me every waking hour. Refusing to yield, I took action, drafting and sending over 100 emails to various universities. Day and night, I sent message after message without exhaustion, driven by sheer anxiety and fear, completely losing track of time. The responses were discouraging: some email addresses were invalid, others stated admissions were closed, and a few noted: "You studied in Pakistan, and we have no established framework to convert Pakistani grades to the German system.Doors were slamming shut in my face, one after another. With every passing moment, fear tightened its grip on me. The clock was ticking relentlessly, and my forced return to Yemen seemed terrifyingly near. I kept telling myself: "No... this cannot be the end of my dream! No! Especially after I resigned from my job back home; if I return, I will inevitably have to start from absolute zero." A whirlwind of thoughts raced through my mind, leaving me paralyzed, unsure of what to do. All I could do was pray, begging God to rescue me from this agonizing crisis. After days spent trapped in an indescribable sheer terror, an unexpected email arrived from Professor Sebastian Springer, requesting an interview with me. My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. What should I do? A door of hope had suddenly swung open once again! Panicked and racing against time, I realized my internet data was about to run out mid-interview. I rushed outside, desperate to secure a stable and long-lasting connection so the interview wouldn't get cut off. I managed to buy a small USB internet dongle. Relief washing over me, I looked up at the sky and whispered: "Thank You... Thank You, Lord, for saving me every single time." I completed the interview and then entered a grueling period of waiting. Days later, while I was studying at the institute, an email arrived from Professor Springer at Jacobs University in Bremen: I had been officially accepted! In that moment, I lost all composure. I burst into a loud shout of pure ecstasy, filled with overwhelming joy. The other students looked at me as if I had lost my mind, but I didn't care. All I could see was my dream drawing closer. I thought to myself: "Finally, I will join the university just like everyone else." In 2013, I moved to Bremen to attend Jacobs University, diving into lectures and practical laboratory training in biological sciences. Yet, as always, a new obstacle was lurking just around the corner. This time, the challenge was the sheer technological leap. Everything was far more advanced than what I had experienced in Pakistan. Here, we worked in state-of-the-art laboratories, and the academic standards were exceptionally rigorous. The faculty expected students to possess extensive hands-on experience from their undergraduate studies. What they didn't realize was that my education in Pakistan was almost purely theoretical; we were rarely allowed near the equipment, let alone inside the labs! Consequently, my studies became an uphill battle. I struggled to operate the laboratory machinery, and the professors quickly grew weary of my constant questions. They would hand me complex research papers, sit me in front of advanced equipment, and expect me to grasp everything instantly and answer every technical query. Lacking the necessary practical background, I found myself trapped in a deep maze, desperate for a way out. Yet, I refused to slack off. I pushed myself harder, constantly seeking help from my peers. Even when they laughed at my lack of knowledge, I paid them no mind; my sole objective was to learn. A few days later, I faced my first major exam, which was based on seven dense research papers. The professor demanded verbatim, "copy-and-paste" answers rather than conceptual explanations, adding another layer of difficulty. I completed the exam to the best of my ability. Once the professor finished grading the papers, he approached me and said bluntly: "Hashem... I am not impressed with your result." Shocked, I asked, "What?" He affirmed, "Yes." I pressed further, "Did I pass the exam or not?" He replied, "You passed, but you are wasting your time here! You will never succeed, and you should just go back to where you came from! As I listened to him, time suddenly ground to a halt. His words struck me like a blazing bullet, shattering my spirit in a single instant. The flicker of hope within me died out, and my dreams were scattered to the wind. I turned and walked away. I couldn't feel anything around me, unable to hear anything except the echo of his harsh, wounding words. I dragged myself back to my room, exhausted, broken, and defeated, before collapsing onto my bed. I didn't want to see anyone; I just needed to be completely alone. That night felt like pure hell. Yet, deep within me, a stubborn pulse refused to yield, whispering: "I will not give up." The next morning, I went straight to his office and knocked on the door. I wanted to talk to him, to seek guidance, identify my mistakes, and correct them. But the moment he saw me, he flatly refused to meet with me. At that precise second, I felt utterly defeated. My energy was completely depleted. Something was dragging me down into a dark abyss, leaving me trapped in a place where no help could reach me. Summoning whatever strength remained in my body, I pulled myself away and left—devoid of hope or purpose. Darkness enveloped my thoughts, and the world seemed to shrink around me. A agonizing week passed, filled with heartbreak, grief, and pain. The door of surrender loomed closer, reaching for me with its razor-sharp claws, pulling me in without any resistance on my part. Then, out of nowhere, an intense longing for my brother washed over me. I felt a desperate need to share my torment with someone—to pour out the ache in my heart—and there was no one better than my brother to cradle my wounded, bleeding spirit. I picked up my phone and called him, recounting everything that had transpired. After listening, my brother said firmly: "Hashem, do you remember the brutal days you endured back on the farm? Think about how hard you worked to get to where you are now. You have nothing left waiting for you in Yemen. Be careful, my brother! Whatever you do, do not even think about surrendering and returning to Yemen!" My brother's words were like a surge of raw electricity coursing through my veins. They thrust me right back into the battlefield. The very next day, I resolved to see Professor Springer—the man who had given me a chance in the first place (back in 2014–2015). I stepped into his office and asked bluntly: "Tell me... are you absolutely sure you accepted the right person?" Professor Springer looked at me, puzzled: "Why do you say that?" I replied, "Because I am struggling to integrate here, especially coming from such a different educational system." Professor Springer looked at me and said: "If you hadn't come to me today, I might have questioned whether you were qualified to study here. But the fact that you walked through that door means you are genuinely fighting to learn and improve yourself. So don't worry. Focus on your studies, and whenever you run into a problem, come directly to me. I accepted you into this program, and I will support you." His words served as a profound source of strength and a massive impetus to keep pushing forward. I thought to myself: "This was exactly what I needed to hear!" Out of respect, I refrained from mentioning the colleague who had belittled me, wishing to avoid creating friction between them. I stood up, feeling my strength and confidence rush back. I knew then that God had placed that professor in my path to fortify my resolve. From that day on, I poured every ounce of effort into my work. I would stay at my desk in the university until 2:00 AM, tirelessly researching and studying, fueled by hope and the unwavering conviction that I would reach the top. I blocked out all negative remarks, cut off every source of discouragement, and surrounded myself exclusively with supportive individuals. My studies became my absolute singular focus, proving to myself that I was capable of overcoming every obstacle in my way. The days flew by, filled with unyielding dedication, until it was time for my Master's thesis. I threw myself entirely into the research, focusing on food poisoning. When the day of my defense arrived, students and professors gathered to hear my presentation. I delivered my defense with absolute confidence. Among the attendees was a prominent professor who was deeply impressed by my research methodology. Once I concluded, he turned to me and asked: "Hashem, how would you like to join my research group and pursue your PhD with me?" Without hesitation, I replied: "Yes, absolutely!" Following the defense, I received exceptionally high marks—outperforming even the native students who had completed their entire undergraduate studies at the university! It was a triumphant, unforgettable day that I cherished deeply.A few days later, my fellow students and I were preparing for the graduation ceremony. We received an email notifying us that graduation speeches needed to be submitted, with one student selected to represent the undergraduate class and another for the graduate class. I thought to myself: "This is a great opportunity." So, I drafted a speech briefly sharing my journey. To my surprise, I was summoned and told that my speech had been selected! Astonished, I asked them, "Why did you pick my speech?" They replied, "Because it tells a deeply personal story, and that is exactly what we were looking for." When graduation day arrived, I stood before the audience and delivered my speech, weaving my personal story with raw sincerity and heartfelt inspiration. After the ceremony concluded, the very professor who had crushed my hopes months earlier approached me and remarked, "I had no idea you were a farmer!" I looked at him without saying a word, thinking to myself: "Why should you need to know someone's background just to treat them with basic respect and empathy?" I turned and walked away, choosing not to dwell on past pain. I simply wanted to savor that triumphant moment, filled with immense pride that I had stood unbroken and achieved my goal. There I was, graduating with a Master's degree in Molecular Biology with top honors, possessing an unshakeable confidence built on the firm belief that God was with me at every step—strengthening me, sustaining me, and granting me the patience to overcome every hardship. Following graduation in Germany, international students are granted a grace period to seek employment, which requires an official job-seeker visa. I applied for and received the visa, then joined the research laboratory mentioned by the professor during my thesis defense—a lab located at my alma mater. As the days went by, a colleague approached me and asked, "Why did the professor assign this specific research project to you?" I replied, "Why do you ask?" He revealed, "Because he gave this exact project to five people before you, and every single one of them quit!" Shocked, I fell silent for a moment before telling myself: "I will give it my all and endure. I won't quit until I see the outcome for myself." Over the following weeks, I repeatedly asked the professor about the status of our project funding, curious if it had arrived. Yet, he offered no clear answers and withheld my stipend. I was working for free. Trying not to rush to conclusions, I waited for months while he remained evasive, showing no intention of discussing the matter or paying me for my research and labor. Realizing I was merely wasting precious time, I decided to leave the lab. In 2015, after stepping away from laboratory research, I converted my personal Facebook account into a public page. Over time, it grew to an astounding 27 million followers—a massive milestone. I regularly posted scientific content and shared my work across various scientific groups. People flooded to my page from these communities, drawn by the engaging videos I produced to simplify science and make complex topics accessible to everyone worldwide. This work eventually established me as one of the most-viewed and influential science communicators globally. During a time when misinformation was running rampant, I dedicated myself to debunking false claims using verified, credible sources. I created a specially formatted layout called the "Science Summary," featuring eight visually appealing panels highlighting the latest scientific breakthroughs curated from reputable sources, always accompanied by original links. The format went viral. People eagerly anticipated every Sunday for the new edition of the Science Summary. My videos went on to garner billions of views, and my follower base expanded by millions across diverse cultures and age groups. To date, the content I created has accumulated over 100 billion views, with over 30 billion video views spanning science, technology, and health. Eventually, someone from New York reached out to me via Reddit—the platform where I regularly posted my weekly Science Summary. He mentioned how much he admired my weekly roundups and asked if I would be interested in collaborating with him. I replied, "Yes, we can certainly work together." After a period of successful collaboration, he informed me that he was launching a company named Futurism, dedicated to publishing cutting-edge science and technology content, and invited me to join as a co-founder. He offered me the position of Chief Content Officer (CCO). I asked him, "Can I fulfill this role while remaining in Germany?" He replied, "Yes, absolutely." Accepting the offer, I signed the contract and transitioned my visa status to a freelance work permit.And so, I began working with them. In 2015, Facebook started heavily prioritizing video content. Capitalizing on this shift, I produced a video that garnered an incredible 8 million views! From that moment, I shifted my core focus to video creation, and in just one week, my page gained a staggering 7 million new followers! Witnessing this massive surge, the team in the U.S. approached me and asked, "Hashem, why don't you take charge of video production for the entire company?" I replied, "Yes, why not?!" I took over video production, but after a while, they began criticizing my approach and style. Unwilling to compromise my creative vision, I told them that if they weren't satisfied with my work, they were free to produce the videos themselves. They then asked me: "Please return to managing written content instead of video." As time went on, my personal page was expanding at an exponential rate—far outpacing the growth of their own company page! Recognizing this, they returned to me and said: "We need you back in charge of video creation, and this time, we will not interfere with your process." They formed a dedicated video team, with me leading as the head of the department. I worked with them for two years, creating content spanning medicine, biology, astronomy, physics, and technology. Our mission was to review complex research papers and transform them into accessible, visual stories. We simplified dense scientific studies, making intricate theories easily understandable for the general public. In fact, researchers themselves began sending us their unpublished papers, asking us to cover their work so that our video coverage would launch simultaneously with their official journal publications! In 2016, the Facebook team reached out to me directly, expressing a desire to collaborate after seeing my videos consistently draw millions of views. Whenever they developed a new feature, they invited me to beta-test it and provide feedback on its strengths, weaknesses, and potential improvements—including early testing for features like Live Video. This marked the beginning of a strong relationship with their team. That same year, I decided to leave Futurism. I wanted complete creative freedom to unleash my ideas without external constraints. However, before my departure, they shared their plans to launch an Arabic branch for their content. Since I was managing the translation team at the time, I thoroughly trained the video production crew until they were fully capable of operating independently. Once they were ready, I officially stepped down. Between 2017 and 2020, I founded the platform "What If," dedicated to exploring hypothetical scientific questions. The show captured a global audience, achieving immense reach and boundless success. Following its success, I began taking the stage at international forums and conferences, sharing scientific knowledge face-to-face with audiences worldwide. I even returned to Jacobs University to personally thank Professor Springer for standing by me during the darkest period of my life. As a gesture of my deep appreciation, I donated €50,000 to support his scientific research on the immune system.