Raveen Dosky Kajjo

I met Kaka Balen shortly before I began working at Voice of America in 2014. I was a young, shy girl—still new to the world of media and journalism. It didn’t take long for Kaka Balen to become more than just a colleague. He quickly turned into a mentor, a close friend, and—most meaningfully—a father figure.

He saw something in me early on. He knew I had different ideas about the kind of stories I wanted to tell, and he supported me unconditionally. He would always sit down, listen intently to my thoughts, and then look at me with pride in his eyes, saying, “I’m proud of you.” I produced many radio and TV shows with him, and after each one, he’d ask, “What did you think about today’s show?” Despite his decades of experience, he always valued my feedback. That kind of humility was just one of the many things that made him so special.

Not long after starting at VOA, I found myself deeply attached to Kaka Balen. He became the father I had always longed for. I remember the moment it happened—he had received a call from one of his daughters at work. I watched how tenderly he spoke to her, how full of love his voice was. After he hung up, I couldn’t help but say, “Kaka Balen, your daughters are so lucky to have a father like you. I wish I had one like that.” From that moment on, he treated me as if I were his own daughter. It meant the world to me when Golzar Xan, Shene, and Soone would lovingly call me “Balen’s daughter.” In those words, I felt seen, loved, and protected.

Kaka Balen was a beacon of hope and positivity. He always knew how to shift my perspective, to help me see the good in life even when things felt dark. On the days he wasn’t in the office, VOA was lifeless—his presence had that much of an impact.

Through some of my hardest days, he was my rock. He gently guided me toward self-love and helped rebuild my confidence when I needed it most. In all the years we worked together, I can count on one hand how many times he called me by my name—he always called me “Queen.” Even when we disagreed, he would smile and say, “No, you can’t do something like that. You’re the Queen, and Queens don’t do such things.” How could anyone not smile after hearing that?

He ended every conversation with the same sentence: “Bes îmanit be Xwa bê” or just have faith in God. That phrase is etched in my heart, and I ache to hear it from him just one more time.

I’ve made a promise to live by his words and carry his wisdom with me every day. I will cherish every memory, every conversation, and every moment we shared. I am endlessly grateful for the time I had with Kaka Balen.

May your soul rest in peace, Balen Salihî ezîz. You will forever live in my heart.