Der Flüchtling Jamal
- LETTURE 36
- Voti 5
- Parti 2
In corso<5 mins
Ultima pubblicazione mar, ott 11, 2016
Wir haben alle Träume, aber unterschiedliche.
Die einen haben Luxus Träume und den anderen genügt ein Stück Brot.
Uns geht es gut, aber wir wollen mehr und mehr.
Wir gehen schlafen mit einem vollem Magen, während es in anderen Ländern, Menschen gibt, die am verhungern sind.
Einer davon heißt Jamal, ist 18 Jahre alt, und hat ein kleinen Bruder beide leben bei seinen Eltern.
Sie hatten ein sorgenfreies Leben, hatten ein schönes Haus in Syrien und verdienten gut.
Als der Krieg begann, wurden sie zu Flüchtlingen.
Auf ihrem Weg nach Deutschland, trafen sie auf so viel Elend und Hass.
Zusammen mit Jamal, habe ich eine Geschichte geschrieben.
Eine Geschichte, die ihm viel bedeutet.
Eine Geschichte über seine jetzige Lage und seine Erlebnisse.
Für mein Freund Jamal, der seine Heimatstadt im Herzen trägt, während er unter der Deutschen Flagge hier wohnt.
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jamal
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Being equally important, my mother had a mother to mother talk with our neighbour, asking as politely as she possibly could to babysit me - but I wouldn't exactly call it babysitting if my mom specifically asks that I only stay over to study for as long as I want; no food included, no relaxation breaks, nothing except studying. In other words my mother asked if I could use their house as a study spot when she and my dad argue. Having explained it to our neighbour, she willing and wholeheartedly accepted, and with that she offered if I could sometimes stay for dinner, but my mother declined. Repeatedly emphasizing on the 'study only'. So, already being agreed, our neighbour noted how she had a son who's three years older than me, which did not bother my mother - but it bothered me. It did bother me before I started studying there. I was practically invisible to the sixteen year old boy who never glanced my way, not even once. He was smart, according to his mother who would help me with something I was bad at, but he was very much a problematic child. Although, to me he was just a nice boy, with a phone in his hand, always walking from his room to the kitchen, and never saying hello to me. It would be an understatement if I said he didn't know I existed, because he did know I existed and that I came to study at his house everyday, he just never took it in his interest to look at me when I looked at him. And that's how I grew up. Having two homes. The one I wake up in, sleep in, eat in, bath in and the one I study in - also known as the house I met my first crush Taeil. Taeil, who didn't bother noticing me but allowed me to notice him everyday of the week, month, year, up to a decade - excluding family outings and outings similar to that. In conclusion, I basically watched him grow up. Grow up into the drug and alcoholic, sex in love man he is. Copyrights © Dzzuling_Min
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