الجمعة، 30 أبريل 2010

Survival Trip




Dear Brother
Please allow me to share your story with the whole world so that people will learn lessons .
With lots of love ,,,,

Here we are about to approach a real successful story of survival, challenge, courage, faith and hope achievements. As this story is real, our hero is real, too. He is one of many who succeeded in adapting the refuge through the solidarity of people, the flexibility to reach self-adjustment and determination. Through the story, we would pass by memories of survival, childhood, trip towards the refuge, struggling to accept the new home, challenging with getting education and living on by tracing the beams of future hopes. Allow me to raise his dairy's voice in the coming few lines.

Oh my dear dairy, you know, I will tell you what I dreamed last night. I saw my parents and they both were extremely happy as if they are satisfied and proud of me. Sometimes, I wish that I could reverse the time to see them again, yet I can. Although both of them were gone, I am still blessed. I started my days with great prayer from auntie who cooks for me with her delicious meals every morning, day and night. Uncle Passed away and I really felt gloomy because this is the second father I loose. Any way my dear dairy this is Life, it has to continue.

My life does not differ from any other refugee in Kharaz camp or in any other camps around the world, but luckily I am one of few fortunate individuals who are blessed to be surrounded by kind and supportive people and weaponed with knowledge and education as well as strong belief in change.

What a struggle to live in a conflict in a divided city with 24 hours curfew. War has eaten all what is not to be eaten and yet never stops. Each family was in danger of killing from the other part of the city, the other tribe just because it is the other one. Mom and dad crossed that line and united the two tribes as they got married. However, it never stopped. It increased the conflict and dad was the victim. As a child from the other tribe living with mom's tribe, everyone dealt with me as if I should have never been born. As if I was a sin. Therefore, I was beaten, humiliated and I faced death several times that led my terrified mom to send me away to another city since she could not join me in that journey and live her tribe.

The new city was peaceful. Therefore, I thought of writing to mom to encourage her to come and I did. But my letter returned as it was because the war started all over and no letters were to be delivered. I wanted to tell that we can go to a safer place, to Yemen where peace occurs as air and sun. I had to go alone on that journey after I got no reply for my letters sent by the Red Cross. It was painful to turn my back to my land and mom at the same time, but I had to do that in order to survive. I left Somalia with no knowledge if mom was alive of not. Nevertheless, she brought me to life thus I can not give up her gift of life and should continue loving her alive or dead.

My story started when the destiny threw my weak body in the risk of sailing through deep and mysterious waters in a journey of survival , leaving all my bloody memories and my mom behind and reaching unknown shores and knowing no one ,but myself and my goal. The destiny assigned a brother in the journey who shared almost the same bloody memories and accompanied me in the journey of survival. And we promised ourselves to be together in order to support one another.

I started to work as a volunteer in the clinic of Geheen camp and studied English in the evening. Even in the unknown land, GOD assigned another brother and a family: he treated us as younger brothers and took the responsibility of taking care of us. It did not stop in this step, but when the refugees were transferred to Kharaz camp, he went to Sana'a and assigned his sister to take care of us .She took the role of the mother and her husband was the father. I am still living with them and wish to continue having this family that I always dreamed of.

During my stay in Kharaz Camp, I was and still am inspired by Kharaz library keeper. This man taught me the blessing of survival and wisdom of life. Whenever I visited him, I found him burrying his face between pages and wearing his glasses, his eyes lost between lines and enjoying every letter. Life twisted him and made him alone with his son in the camp. However, when you go to the library and see him, you personify hope as if it is a living person, greeting you, talking to you in proper Arabic and holding hope as a golden key chain in an empty pocket. This man, died last year as a stranger in Aden hospital living a legacy of nothing but wisdom and hope.

I had no chance to get to college since the competition was furious. However, I tried and I did not get it. But, there is always another day, another tomorrow to hold and another sunrise we can count on. Out of no where, a rich guy came to the camp and all of the sudden decided to give away scholarships for a double number of what was offered before. I was, as usual lucky and blessed enough to get accepted and again fate is on my side.

Everyday, I feel blessed. Waking up in the morning, having my breakfast with mom and walking to work. I pass by the camp's alleys, greeting people and seeing the innocent smiles of the kids that have a hope for a better tomorrow.

Still I have dreams to fulfill: pursing my higher education, having reunion with mom, and helping all people who supported me from the very beginning of my journey: the journey of survival. This experience will be stuck in my mind and I am going to tell this story to my children and grandchildren to teach them how to have a positive image of life to continue and succeed when few people only succeed.

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