My Story Project: Our House (by Kaia)
Posted on 21/06/2018 by ttlcic
Once upon a time: there was a beautiful house and garden.
And every day: we swam and played.
Until one day: mum and dad departed.
And because of that: people sold the place.
And because of that: they killed the trees and built apartment blocks.
Until finally: concrete high rises filled the area.
And ever since: I want to live in my memories.
My Story Project: My Return (by Kaia)
Posted on 04/06/2018 by ttlcic
Once upon a time: We lived in another country.
And every day: I remembered our house there and thought of my friends.
Until one day: I dreamt I was back.
And because of that: When I woke up I felt very happy and told my sister.
And because of that: She told grandma and grandad and they were worried I would leave.
Until finally: They promised we would return soon.
And ever since: I am waiting to go back.
Stories about growing up
My fondest memories of growing up was when I grew up with my family and celebrating Eid, it was so exciting and so much fun. I liked going swimming, I used to go to the beach to see the sea with my big sisters, I had lots of friends, we played our own games by making dolls using the inside of the sweet corn and we used to make sand castles. My happiest memories of my childhood was playing with my big sisters and friends, we used to play hide and seek by the sea.
My favourite story that was passed down to me by women in my family was the tale about the fox and the crocodile. The fox bit the tongue off the crocodile … This is the lesson of the story: Like the crocodile, a person can do good things but she might not get any reward.
Stories about growing up
I remember some stories my grandmother passed down to me, she always wanted us to think about the future, to be good people and she always prayed for our family. She always used to say she wanted the children to behave well by doing their homework, pray and be good to their family and friends. She came from the village of Darkapusa in Sylhet, Bangladesh. She died 29 years ago. My mother used to tell me that she was very beautiful.
Stories about growing up
I am 24 years old, I have two older sisters, they live in cities of Kurdistan, which are both beautiful cities. In the summer it is very hot there; I love my sisters, their names are Gurbet who is 28 years old and Leyla who is 26 years old; my sisters have very nice children, Gurbet has three children, two sons and one girl and Leyla also has three children, one son and two girls.
Stories about growing up
My happiest memories of childhood were during the time of Eid. We used to wear new clothes with a nice bag, we would visit the neighbours and asked them for money or sweets, once we collected the money and sweet we would share them all together. My mum cooked Zegine for the whole family.
Stories about growing up
The most memorable story my mum told me is the one about the government in Ethiopia. She always used to tell me about the government, how it was very bad for the country and how many people got killed and abused. The Menjustu government was fighting several years to fight for independence but they did it in very bad ways by killing and torturing people. This government was in power for 17 years; in that time so many people got killed, my mum used to tell me that what they did was wrong, especially young men of the age of 18 that were taken into the army to fight the war.
Stories about growing up
I live in London with my children. My son is learning ICT at college and next year he will go to university, he is a lovely boy. My daughter is 11 years old, she is attending primary school and next year she will start secondary school; I love my family. I also go to college to learn English in order to improve the quality of my life. I would like to work in child care and beauty therapy; I currently work with elderly people and children.
My parents used to tell me many Hodja stories. I especially remember these stories. There is a story about a girl who carried water for her family. Najreddin Hodja’s daughter used to carry water in an earthen jar, One day a neighbour saw the Hodja beating her daughter and was shocked. The neighbour asked him why he was beating her daughter and the Hodja said this was because he wanted to warn her before she broke the jar!
Stories about growing up
My happiest memories of childhood are of when I was a child; my favourite game was skipping, I liked to do the loops so much until I used to get sick, I used to ask all of my friends to play this game with me, my mum used to tell me not to play too much otherwise I would get sick. Now that I am a grown up I still like this game and I still play it sometimes because it reminds me of when I was a child and it is good exercise.
I remember one story my grandmother told me about her being born in Ethiopia. Her name was Zahra and one day she told me that Haile Selassie, the president of Ethiopia, was against the Muslim religion; they were not allowed to celebrate Eid, it was banned. That is the reason why she had to move to Yemen. She passed away nine years ago, I am pleased she shared many stories with me; she knew a lot of things, she used to help me with my homework when I was at school, I remember she liked to talk. Her eye sight was not good and she had a bad leg. When I heard the story about her living in Ethiopia I remember thinking that if I had been born at that time, I would not have been allowed to celebrate Eid.
Stories about growing up
My fondest memories of growing up was when I lived with my parents and my sisters and brothers all in the same house; my sisters are my best friends; my mother had seven girls and when we went out she used to dress us all with the same dresses, these are my happiest memories.
Stories about growing up
My happiest memories of childhood were during the time of Eid. We used to wear new clothes with a nice bag, we would visit the neighbours and asked them for money or sweets, once we collected the money and sweets we would share them all together. My mum cooked Zegine for the whole family.
Stories about growing up
My fondest memories are around the celebration of Eid.
My second eldest brother always made sure we would all have at least one item which was new. He could not afford to buy us gifts – he bought things on credit! It was very difficult as we were poor: Dad worked long hours to make ends meet. I enjoyed the company of children, it was easy to make friends with most of them, they did not expect anything back.
We were happy as a family: we had each other to play with. The most important thing in life is to belong somewhere - to have a family, someone who cares about you.
Dad bought us each a big toy: a bike, a racing car, a tricycle. I chose the bike but I couldn’t ride!
My Dad spent almost all day helping me to learn, it did not take too long!! It was a shameful thing for most people to see a girl on a bike but my Dad said he didn’t worry much about what others thought.
We played traffic lights: one of us would be the traffic controller for a while; others drove past… you see we had a massive house and garden… Our neighbours would sometimes join in.
Another fond memory involves my Mother. My Dad used to leave for work at about 4.30 am and my Mum would go back to bed after Dad left.
If I woke up, I would go downstairs and creep into my Mum’s bed, snuggle up next to her and fall asleep. I had a great feeling of peace and comfort.
