Sahel Rosa

Sahel Rosa—From War Orphan to Stardom and Helping Immigrants

Please tell us about your traumatic childhood in Iran, first memories, and how you ended up in Japan and adapted to the culture here.

There is no doubt that I am from Iran. However, I do not remember my biological mother or father. I do not even know my real name or date of birth because, quite frankly, I have no documents to prove it. For the sake of explanation, I will refer to them as “mother” and “father,” but in my heart, the person who gave me life is my adoptive mother, the one who took me in and raised me.

The circumstances that led me to meet my adoptive mother (pictured above) trace back to the Iran-Iraq War, which lasted from 1980 to 1988. This war claimed countless lives and left many children, me included, as orphans. I was sent to an orphanage in the capital, along with many other children. But I consider myself fortunate. I spent three years in the orphanage, from the age of four to seven, during which time my adoptive mother—then a university graduate student and already married—was volunteering there. 

For context, my adoptive mother’s husband, who is also Iranian, was living in Japan at the time, so the two were living separately.

The moment I met her in the visitation room, something extraordinary happened. As soon as I saw her, I instinctively called her “Mother.” To this day, I’m not sure why. Having grown up without parents, I didn’t understand what “mother” even meant at the time. Perhaps, as a seven-year-old, I clung to her as a last lifeline. Yet, my simple, impulsive words were taken seriously by her. Despite the countless orphans in my home country and the societal stigma attached to adoption—a stigma that, regrettably, still lingers—she chose to rise above it all. She defied societal norms, even distancing herself from some of her relatives at the time, to take me, a child with no blood connection to her, into her care.

To put into words the challenges my adoptive mother overcame would require an entire book. But there is one thing I must express: In today’s chaotic global landscape, families of all kinds exist. Some are led by a single parent, while others are traditional two-parent households. Yet, even within these families, happiness can feel elusive. If we become overly fixated on the concept of “family,” we may start to feel that no family is “normal.”

But the truth is, there is no “correct” way for a family to be. Family can feel both close and distant at the same time. Even if you share the same blood, differences in values are natural. Every family is valid, and there is no right or wrong. What truly matters is not the biological connection but whether you can genuinely love the other person.

My adoptive mother and I share no blood ties—yet as I passed my twenties, I started to resemble her physically. Isn’t that strange? Looking back, I cannot overstate her greatness. She has her strict moments, of course, but what makes her extraordinary is her unwavering support for me. Even when others saw me as nothing more than a “stone,” she would say something that still makes me blush to write: If someone asked her, “What is the most precious gem in the world?” she would, without hesitation, reply, “Sahel.” She never treated me as a pitiful child from an orphanage. Even when the world doubted me, she believed in the power of education and love, saying, “Humans can grow no matter where they start.”

She taught me not to be chained to my past, but to cherish the miracle of surviving and living in the present. She would tell me, “You are incredibly lucky. You’ve come to a foreign country and are living freely. Even if you are poor, you have met so many people. Live confidently, even for those who cannot.” From my earliest days to now, my adoptive mother has been my lifeline. For that reason, I will refer to her simply as “Mother” from here on. She is, without a doubt, both my birth and adoptive mother.

Sure, there are moments when our values clash. But that’s okay.

Human relationships are inherently difficult. Multicultural coexistence is not a necessity just because someone is of foreign nationality, nor is it something that only “lacks” in certain places. Even among those who share the same religion, nationality, family or friendship, there are countless cases where values do not align. But my concern is this: are we becoming too accustomed to blocking people or cutting ties too easily? Is the fear of differences turning into exclusion?

It’s natural to be different. Culture, customs and even the fear of the unfamiliar are part of being human. But when fear turns into rejection, we lose the opportunity to connect. If we avoid or cut ties with those who hold differing opinions, we risk becoming trapped within the confines of our own rigid worldview.

Many people today struggle to find their place in society. In Japan, this is true for both Japanese citizens and foreigners. For me, though I live with a smile, I often feel isolated. There are moments, almost daily, when I feel like an outsider in Japan. But for me, the act of “expression” is my mental lifeline. It serves as both therapy and a form of self-counseling.

TV star Sahel Rosa

How did you enter the world of entertainment?

When I reflect on my life, I think of the many part-time jobs I took to fund my university education and support my living expenses. Among those, my time as a movie extra stands out. To survive alongside my mother, I needed money, so I worked tirelessly. Most of the roles I played were as a corpse. Occasionally, I was cast as a living character, but often as a terrorist.

This experience deepened my commitment to expression. In US films or Japanese reenactment TV shows, the portrayal of Middle Eastern people is often limited to villains or terrorists. I first felt this pain as a high school student. Everyone feels pride in their homeland. But biased portrayals in the media inflict deep wounds, and these biases can turn into discrimination.

This is why I want to change the Japanese entertainment industry. Diversity can only thrive when diverse people are represented. That’s why I climbed out of the corpse roles and have now been expressing myself for nearly 20 years.

Even as an Iranian, regardless of my upbringing, the right to live is inherent in every life that is born. In today’s world, I hope people can experience human dignity—not inequality—in the rights we hold, especially through events such as the EXPO Osaka, Kansai 2025.

The truth is, the covid pandemic has brought about even more division in the world. Even now, post-covid, the habits formed during the pandemic have led to new values and ways of living. The division I feel comes from the mindset of “not engaging with others.” People think that avoiding interaction leads to fewer conflicts and less exhaustion. But this mindset creates emotional and social divides, as well as disparities in interest and coexistence.

While advancements in social media have allowed us to see the world and feel connected, it creates only the illusion of connection. Virtual spaces will always remain virtual. Humans coexist through their five senses. To live, we need a society where we help and care for one another. It’s natural for everyone to be different. We are all born with our own unique sense of “normal,” and we have lived our lives up to this day based on it.

Sahel Rosa and chef Yusuke Nomura invited journalist Simon Farrell to a Japanese cuisine
TV star Sahel Rosa and chef Yusuke Nomura invited journalist Simon Farrell to a Japanese cuisine event. 

What are your feelings about the current conflict in your former homeland, the Mideast and other regions?

When you deny or hurt someone else, you ultimately hurt yourself as well. Multicultural coexistence is not just about learning different cultures; it’s also about paying attention to what’s happening around the world. Whether it’s the conflict between Russia and Ukraine, the ongoing violence in Gaza and Israel, or the struggles in Syria, Afghanistan and the Rohingya communities, many wars remain unresolved. Even conflicts in Africa often go unreported, and there are countless “forgotten people.”

With the advancement of civilization and technology, we are becoming less inclined to reach out to one another. The question is, how can we share technological progress with others and work together to create a world where everyone can live comfortably? Diversity should not remain just a concept or a word. If we can each develop our own personal sense of “diversity” within our hearts, perhaps the world will move a little closer to peace.

This vision, this hope, is something I carry because of my mother. I know no other “mother” greater than her. The lessons and values she has taught me are what I strive to pass on and embody in my life moving forward.

It is not often reported, but the suffering extends far beyond Ukraine and Gaza. In 2024, I visited the Rohingya ethnic minority who fled Myanmar, as well as refugee settlements in Uganda. In Uganda, approximately 2,400 orphaned survivors of massacres are living on just 100 grams of beans per week.

Today, the world is moving further and further away from peace. Children who have lost their homes, their parents, and even their homelands are being left with nothing but feelings of hatred. 

Although a ceasefire agreement has taken effect between Israel and Hamas in Gaza, the invasion by Israel, aimed at “destroying Hamas,” has ironically sown the seeds for new Hamas fighters to emerge.

The reason I did not become a child soldier or a terrorist—despite surviving the Iran-Iraq War myself—is because I firmly believed, as a war orphan, that I must not let myself be consumed by the cycle of hatred and violence. If I allowed myself to harbor feelings of hatred, I would, in turn, contribute to the next war. The reason I never picked up a weapon or became a child soldier or terrorist is because someone gave me the chance to hold a pen and receive an education.

As someone who survived, I feel a responsibility to share the horrors of war and the terror of pulling the trigger that starts one.

When Japanese children talk about their dreams, they often say, “When I grow up.” But the refugee children I’ve met say, “If I grow up.” It’s a profound reminder of how fortunate it is to not know war. Yet, there’s a difference between not knowing and choosing not to know—or being indifferent. I want people to look at what’s happening in the world without turning away.

We must ask ourselves what we can do to ensure that the children who survive war do not press the button of retaliation.

What can we do as conflicts persist around the world?

The way we use the internet can make it harder to see what’s happening on a global scale, as information we’re not interested in is often filtered out. We may feel as if we’ve learned everything from the small screen of our smartphones, or we might readily believe snippets of reposted content on platforms such as X (formerly Twitter) that someone else has curated.

There are many ways that media outlets present information, but because humans create the content, no broadcaster is perfect. There is no definitive “correct” version of events. However, as recipients of information, we must strive not to become biased. We need to look at various perspectives and ultimately make our own judgments.

This is why I encourage people to take 15 minutes every day to travel the world. I want people to take action to learn about the world. Documentaries and newspapers can be valuable resources. Even when covering the same topic, different outlets often present vastly different narratives.

Instead of simply criticizing the creators of information, we, as recipients, need to develop the ability to gather information from a wide range of perspectives. By doing so, we can better understand others who are different from us.

This is also why I created this message—with the hope that people will come to understand others who are different from themselves. Even if we think differently, coexistence is possible. By learning about each other, we can take steps toward mutual understanding.

Rather than promoting division, let us search for ways to coexist. It starts with each of us taking action.

What do you do these days?

In my current activities, I focus primarily on creating educational opportunities and generating employment for adults. There are still countless children who are denied access to school. Many girls are forced to use their bodies for survival, or they resort to begging. Even if they avoid those fates, they are often married off at an early age to leave their families—child marriage. It is heartbreaking that being born a girl often means having almost no choices in life. Instead of a world where a child’s birth is met with sighs of despair, I wish for a world overflowing with joyful celebration of life.

As I confront these challenges and realities, I am painfully aware of how little I can do each day. In recent years, the situation has worsened. To address this, increasing support is crucial. Organizations such as the United Nations, NGOs and NPOs have been growing, bringing fresh ideas and passion. Yet, the number of refugees—displaced by the countless wars and conflicts that have persisted for years—continues to rise, exacerbating issues such as food shortages and lack of resources. While the need for assistance is greater than ever, the number of supporters is declining.

The pandemic created divisions and even in its aftermath those divisions have given rise to new values and lifestyles, further widening disparities. Then there are ongoing conflicts such as Russia and Ukraine, Gaza and Israel, Syria, Afghanistan, the Rohingya people and various disputes in Africa. While they may not always make headlines, these wars have not ended, and countless people are being forgotten.

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