Afghanistan was not an easy place to build a future. War was a shadow that never lifted, and the hope for a better life became more urgent with each passing day. Leaving was not just a choice, it was survival. Najaf embarked on a dangerous journey, seeking refuge in Australia.

Upon arrival, he was detained at Woomera detention centre for four months, with no certainty of what lay ahead. When asked where he wanted to be resettled, he requested Tasmania. He had heard about the vast number of sheep there and thought he could return to a life he once knew, a life spent herding sheep in the Afghan countryside.

Najaf was sent to Melbourne, arriving with a temporary protection visa, no English, and no money. Determined to stand on his own two feet, he took on odd jobs for six months, doing anything he could, until he saved enough to pay the security deposit for a shop on High St, Prahran. He had no rugs to sell, only the knowledge of how to bring them back to life. So he leaned on the one thing he knew best, repairing.

From early morning to late at night, he worked tirelessly, sitting by the shop's front window, carefully restoring rugs in hopes of catching the attention of passersby. At the time, there were no other handmade rug repairers in the city. His skill was rare and in high demand. Within weeks, word spread. Rug dealers took notice, eager to hire him. But Najaf had already decided he would work for himself.

Most of his first years in business were a struggle. He barely spoke English and could only communicate with customers through body language. Having come from an all-cash society, he had never even seen a credit card before, let alone used an EFTPOS machine. The first time he had to process a payment, he froze, completely unsure of what to do. It took time, patience, and countless small mistakes before he learned how to navigate this new world.

To make things work, Najaf relied on pure determination. A friend gifted him a small bicycle, which became his lifeline. He would transport rugs to customers' homes on the back of it, allowing them to trial pieces before committing. Every uphill ride, every exhausting trip across the city, was something he was willing to do to create the life and business he has today.

And so, the foundation of Najaf Rugs was laid, built on honesty, craftsmanship, and the warmth of Afghan hospitality, where every visitor is offered a cup of tea.

With no advertising, no grand opening, and no guarantees, Najaf relied on word of mouth. Every stitch he wove into an old, tattered rug, every delicate repair, was done with the same precision and care he had learned as a boy in Afghanistan. Customers would come in not just for his skill, but for his warmth, his stories, and his unwavering commitment to the craft.

Soon, his tiny shop in Prahran became more than a business, it became a place where people gathered, where Afghan culture was shared, and where every rug held a history of its own.

Najaf's story was too remarkable to go untold. His resilience, his escape from war, and his determination to build a new life in Australia were captured in his books, The Rug Maker of Mazar-e-Sharif and The Honey Thief, co-written with Robert Hillman. The Rug Maker became a bestseller and was included on the VCE curriculum for six years, read by thousands of students introduced to his incredible journey. His portrait was entered into the prestigious Archibald Prize by artist Phillip Howe, and in 2014, he was nominated for the Australian of the Year Awards.

As the business grew, so did his commitment to those he'd left behind. He dedicated 100% of his book royalties to founding AusGhan Aid, an organisation committed to providing healthcare and education to the most vulnerable in his hometown. Since 2011, this initiative has changed countless lives, funding hospitals, supporting schools, and helping those who, like him, had lost everything to war.

Through decades of dedication, Najaf has built something rare, not just a business, but an institution of trust, quality, and tradition. He continues to personally handpick every rug, travelling internationally several times a year to select, inspect, and oversee shipments. Even now, he approaches each piece with the same reverence he had as a young apprentice in Mazar-e-Sharif, knowing that behind every rug lies a story waiting to be told.

Today, that legacy is carried forward by his daughter, Maria. Working side by side, they uphold the values the business was founded on: honesty, craftsmanship, and the warmth of Afghan hospitality. Together, they ensure that every rug that passes through their hands is more than décor. It is history. It is art. It is a testament to what one person can build from nothing.

Because just like Najaf's own journey, every rug tells a story.