If I can remember it correctly it was the summer of 1997, the 15th of August to be precise. That day was the day that had influenced my life dramatically it was the day that anyone would hate to arrive. To leave a place you were bought up in wasn’t straightforward and pleasant but it was something that most people in the third world find doing. They try to escape from the poverty, killing and illness to come to a land where they are protected but lonely. For me Iraq was the country where I was born and bought up.
To me it was a home it was a place where I felt safe and guarded. As a child at the age of 7 the thought of leaving this country where I was bought up was really beyond my imaginations. It was the last thing I would have worried about. For a child of my age being dissociated from my friends and relatives is one of the hardest things to accomplish. But just as I said before it is something that people have to go through I didn’t really have much choice. This all started on the day that I was supposed to be celebrating but instead I was worrying.
It was the 13th of August 1997. It was a pleasant and calm day the sun was high up in the sky, birds whistling in the trees and I was there at my grandma’s house playing a relaxing game of snakes and ladders in the garden. This mood of relaxation and cheerfulness had changed in a matter of three hours. I needed to get a book for my uncle from his room, which was, located upstairs. On the way back I heard my parents and grandma were discussing the most unpleasant things. I couldn’t believe a word that I was hearing it was all unexpected.
They were discussing the suggestion of us leaving Iraq. At that time the only thing that was going through my mind was the fear. Leaving a country that I was born in, bought up in, . It was impossible there was no way I am going to do a task similar to that it was impossible this country has been a sacred place to me. That conversation ruined the rest of the day for me a day, which I was supposed to be celebrating. The day changed from being relaxing, happy and tranquil to being tense, worrying and gloomy.
On the way back home that was the only thing I talked about and thought about. The replies from my parents weren’t very convincing. During the next couple of weeks surprises came after surprises. In a matter of weeks I found myself packing to leave the place that was dearest to me. I cried, rebelled, argued but nothing would change the mind of my parents. The worst day of my life had come. The day that I feared most it was the day where we drove through the town of sloopy bordering Iraq and Turkey to go into Ankara.
It was a long trip full of trouble. After arriving there we had stayed in a flat. For a 8 year old child Turkey wasn’t a place to carry on his life it was cramped, dull, and busy furthermore it didn’t have the language that I spoke it was just as if I was taken to China. The city wasn’t the same the people weren’t the same it was just a place that did not suit people like me. The stay in turkey felt empty it was as if I was in a blank room all by my own with nothing to look at and no one to talk to.
In my point of view I think that this whole trip is pointless Iraq was a country where I felt at home here I felt isolated. It wasn’t just me who didn’t like the stay my parents had the same view but we managed to get out of this country and to go to a place where I did have relatives I didn’t really mind since going back wasn’t an option. My imprisonment in turkey had ended I found myself walking towards the plane that shall take even further away from my home, family, friends the only thing I could think of was to say goodbye, goodbye Iraq.