“Don’t you ever do that again; Allah will punish you!” an expression with which I was raised my entire childhood. Muslims, like my parents, fear god so much. You cannot discuss a controversial topic with most of them. I was a little infant back then, and within me, I carried many unanswered questions. All I wanted was answers – not judgments. My family was small; we were four members
– now we are three after my mother’s death. There was no one to talk to. I had lived in remote and small village; so small, that everyone knows everyone there. I had many struggles with the people there. However, I managed to get through, and that is why I am here typing this.
The village was so nice, calm and lovely. We had had a simple life there, and it had been quite enjoyable. There had been no bars, no hotels, driving schools. In fact, because that village was so condensed, I am able to describe it entirely. At the entrance of the village, there had been a dense forest with numbered luxurious villas of people who made their fortune by selling tobacco and similar goods; at this point, you have only forests as far as the eye can see. As you approach, you would find a small car-repairing garage. It was so filthy, stained with blackness and full of oil odor. There had been an internet café, which had closed before I quit the village. Heading towards the center, you find the only mosque surrounded by merchants who sell their vegetable and fruit products. They knew it was a good spot to showcase their goods. If we would take the road on the left, we would be going to the only elementary school in the village; the school looked like an abandoned and haunted house; all of its windows were broken, the doors were missing the locks and there had been no proper equipment for teaching. We had numbered hairdressers, places to buy groceries from and no parks or public places for entertainment. The biggest area of this village was used as a weekly souk; people from all neighboring villages would gather there every Monday to buy and sell stuff. For us, children, this day was like a holiday; it was the only day of the week, which we could have fun in. We would consider it good luck if we have the afternoon off. This was our village, and this how it worked, and we definitely enjoyed it.
My father had some serious issues during 2004, which forced our family to move out and start over. Because we were so young, we did not feel the transition from living in a thriving city to living in a dismal village. We had not seen much of the city that time, though. We started all over in that village. We made some acquaintances quickly, some of which worked with my father. However, we were still looked at as strangers, foreigners and outsiders. It would take us years to fit in, and that was exactly what happened.
I had to start school and my mother and father dragged me there one morning. I was nervous and did not know what was going on. All I could remember is a woman holding my hand and walking me to a classroom – she was my teacher.

I can still remember that day very clearly. I was sitting quietly on my chair. I was staring at all students in that classroom and I thought that I would never be able to get to know any of them. We had two classes: one in the morning and the other in the afternoon. I had spent an entire week without getting to know anyone.
However, I knew I had been noticed by others. Of course, I was known as the new student coming from the city, but mostly I am an Arab. I had to keep my distance because there was no telling what these students might do. I stood up against a white wall near the classroom, and that is how I spent all my breaks. Teachers had noticed I was a bit shy and unsociable and tried to help me blend in with the others, however, I could not. There had been two barriers between this new world and me: language and culture.
Now that I think about it, it sounded like I had been one of the early Homo sapiens who had just been developing the language. I was not able to understand their language, but they were able to understand mine partially. However, that had given them the advantage over me; they could have been devising some schemes to tease me back then while I had no idea at all. All I had back then was my gentle and nice attitudes, which they had never seen in that place.
On a rainy day, I was in an afternoon class. My feet were cold, my hands were frozen that I was not able to hold the pen still, and my eyes were examining the classroom as if I am an outsider. I noticed a girl waving to me. She was beautiful. She wrote down something on a piece of paper and sent it over to me. It was as if we were corresponding like old times. That was how I got to know my first friend there. She knew that I would struggle a lot because of the language; she started teaching me the language. Before we knew it, we had become best friends – and we are still up to now.
I learned many things from that experience, and most importantly do not ever back off from showing yourself. Holding yourself back will only result in your misery. Sometimes, golden opportunities might be under your noses, yet we are keeping them away by our own attitudes and behaviors. It is high time you start taking action. And no matter what the consequences are, just keep on trying until you reach your goal.