A Refugees Journal...

My journal

I was standing on the curb of the petrol station. I had two bottles of water in my hand and a cherry ripe in the other. I had to make a run for it before the shop owner came out and started to beat me.

My name is Valli I live in the Kabul train station, I have no money, family or home. I want to live in a better place like Australia or as far away as I can get from Afghanistan. I hate living here, landmines, army tanks that can potentially blow you up in a flat second. Two months ago my parents were taken away by the Taliban, I saw it all happen. It was on my 13 birthday.

I am sprinting away from the petrol station with a tourist’s purse in my hand, I look inside it and see if there is any money or anything useful to me. I found something that you put on your nails and another me that does the exact same thing you do, it sort of folds into itself and clicks when you shut it. I took the bag and started to run again. Back at the train station I saw a cardboard box with some paper inside of it, I walked up to it with caution, people started to stare at me. I read the piece of paper.

Name: Sky Mohamed

Age: 15

Destination: Australia

Transport: Tombuk Temba I

Departure: 12.15pm

Sign:  Sky Mohamed                                

As soon as I had finished reading the ticket to go to Australia I ran as fast as I could down to the Kabul boating dock, where the Tombuk Temba 1 would be departing in five minutes time. When I was down at the dock I saw the boat. It had green paint on old planks of wood that had been partly peeled off by the furious and enraged sea. I walked up to the sailor and showed him my ticket, I am only thirteen, although if I wanted to seem fifteen then I could. I stood on my tiptoes and spoke to the sailor, he looked like he had been up all night and not gotten much sleep. He spoke to me in a deep croaky voice in a way that was quite humbling “Where did you get that missy” “ I paid for it just over at the booth” I said and I pointed over to a little booth in the market “Get on then…” he paused looked at the ticket and then spoke again “Miss um Sky Mohamed”. I leaped on to the boat with excitement and sat down on one of the hard wooden seats. This is it, this is really it! I am going to Australia. I am about to finally live my dream, then unfortunatly I awoke and realised for now it would reamain just that...

To be continued......

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