Hold On

June 1993, London

It wasn't much different from what I imagined. Tall buildings, Big Ben, the Queen, lights in the nighttime. Just white everywhere, there was the odd coloured people sometimes but rarely. Although my interpretations of the UK were almost accurate, there was still something incompatible. It had taken 3 weeks to be given a house by the council, in the meantime, we stayed in a bed&breakfast. Alhamdulillah, we're in a good place now and I have my house. It's been 5 weeks since I left Kenya and I haven't heard from Kamal yet. I've spoken to Baba and he says that he's spoken to Kamal and it's going to take longer than he anticipated. Despite my loneliness, I keep myself busy by decorating the house and filling out hundreds of forms, it's a nightmare because the language is a barrier. They aren't as welcoming here as they were in Africa, I haven't met a single person that spoke to me other than for the sake of their job.

***

A month had passed and I have started to adapt to the British customs. I've had fish & chips so much I was beginning to get sick of it. Surprisingly, I began to learn my way around the area. I stayed in the borough of Newham, in an area called Stratford. The foreign language was growing on me. I have started to pick a phrases like, 'good morning', 'alright' and 'I'm chuffed'. However, there are also other phrases like 'outcasts', 'terrorist' and 'go back to your country'. I didn't understand the meaning of all these but I've noticed that it was the whites only say this to people of colour, different culture or a different religion.

Early that the day I went shopping at the market. The markets are similar to the ones in Somalia but of course they didn't have as much exotic things. I brought Ali and Zayn with me and left Zara and Waleed with Maneera. The market held dozens of shelves of fruit and veg at each and Zayn wanted everything. The man in charge of the stall was eyeing me, it was beginning to feel uncanny but I stayed silent. As Ali was getting the bowl of lemons I asked him to reach, there's a woman on his left. She looks different than the rest of the people. For starters, she was coloured, she had tan, brown colour. You can tell she's Indian because of the traditional shalwar kameez she's wearing, and also she's hindu as she has a red mark between her hair parting to symbolise she's married. Another man besides her was trying to reach over for some bananas and accidentally nudged the woman.

'Oh' she said as she didn't seem to have noticed what happened.

'Watch yourself, you Paki basher. Learn your place.' The large, aggressive white man said. I didn't exactly know what he meant but I know it's offensive and racist. He turned to me and I immediately grabbed Ali and Zayn's hands.

'And what are you looking at, stupid people. Go back home, the lot of yous!' And the rude man left. I quickly went besides the old woman who'd been threatened. As I rushed over to her I'd realised there's no way to communicate to her.

'Okay?' I said, continuously nodding my head. She nodded back and said,

'Thank you , thank you.' She replied.