They call me Mo. Mo is short for Mohammad, or so they tell me. Scared from the chaos of my home, it is hard to remember. I have not heard my name called since I was separated from my parents. It became too dangerous to stay, but staying would have meant staying together. My home is no longer how I remember it. It was no longer happy or safe, nor was it my home. My home is a camp now, foreign and new. Will I ever find the feelings of happiness and safeness again? I have since lost track of the years I have been here. Every night, I go to bed hoping when I wake, I will no longer be living this nightmare of not knowing what tomorrow holds. I miss my parents and my sister. To be reunited with them would make up for the solemn days I spend alone, even in the crowdedness of the camp. Although I am protected here, I would give it all up to be with my family again. I try to stay busy at the camp to keep my mind distracted from dwelling on the dangers falling all around. The younger kids need someone to look out for them. They were separated from their parents too. I worry about my sister and that she will forget me, but being with the children gives me hope for my own sister. Maybe someone is taking care of her just as I am taking care of the younger siblings of others who have no one. Something was different at the camp one day. Many new people were present, and we were getting attention from them. I was asked my name for the first time in years. I said, “they call me Mo.” And from then, I heard it said. I had flashbacks of my mother’s voice. These new people were friendly. They brought us things. Things I had never seen before. A new tent was set up. They brought each person staying at the camp in one by one. Inside the new tent, I learned these people were volunteers. I wondered what would happen and why they came. I saw a doctor for the first time. I received new clothes; the only clothes I had were the clothes I left my home with a long time ago. They showed a deep compassion towards each of us and made us feel human again. The children at the camp enjoyed playing with new people and getting more attention than what I could give them. I wanted to learn how to care better for the people at the camp. I asked one of the volunteers to show me and was invited to help in the medical tent. The volunteer was kind, and her smile reminded me of my mother’s. After working with her for a couple of days, she asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up. I could not answer. I never thought about it; there was no reason to think about it. My future was confined to this tent, and unless I ever find a way out, this is where I will remain. I could tell my answer was not the one she expected. For the rest of the day, we worked in silence. The volunteers’ stay was coming to an end. I hated to see them go. They gave us so much, and above that, they gave us hope in that they would soon return. It was rough to say goodbye; the children did not understand. After they had left, life went back to how it was before the volunteers came. Their stay gave me something to think about during the lonely days without them. I began to think about what I would want to be when I grew up, and if I had the chance to leave this camp. What would my parents have wanted for me? My father would have wanted me to do something noble, but what could I do coming from the circumstances I have been trapped in for so long? I cannot let my parents down. I may never see them again, but I still need to make them proud. Months had passed since the volunteers came and left. I saw a vehicle similar to what they came in before. I thought it was strange that there was only one. Surely, they brought more people with them. I did not see any of the volunteers yet, but I hoped they had come again. In the distance, I heard a familiar voice. “Mo. I am looking for Mo. Is he still here?” The voice called, and I started looking around to see where it was coming from. Once I ran out of the tent, I could see the person calling for me. She ran towards me. When we met each other in the middle of the campsite, she embraced me. With a tear in her eye, she crouched down and said, “I am Grace. Do you remember me from when you worked with me before? I have come back for you.” My thoughts were racing. “what do you mean you came back for me?” Grace stood up, wiped away her tears and explained that my response to her asking what I wanted to be when I grew up broke her heart. She could not stand knowing I would not get to fulfill a dream I never had the chance to have. “I came back for you to have a future and a home,” she whispered. I stood there staring at her smile, thinking of my parents and sister. Grace was offering me the best thing in the world. She came to save me from a place I thought I would forever have to stay. Nothing could replace my family, but I knew this was my one chance to make them proud and get the life they had always hoped I would have. Despite leaving the only place I have ever known and knowing I will never see my family again, it was hard to accept the offer, but it was my second chance. I left with Grace that day and never looked back at the dark place I left. I never had to fear about my safety again. I began to dream of my future, and Grace encouraged me to become the teacher I found I wanted to be. I wanted to be the person Grace was to me for another child who needed hope. The day Grace came for me was the day she saved me. Grace saved me from living a hard life with no meaning. Grace showed me what it meant to give back and make a difference. My life changed for the better that day. I can never forget where I came from and the family I miss so dearly, but I see the difference between the two worlds I have lived in and now call home. Grace gave me opportunities and hope. Although I was never blind, I am seeing for the first time. Stay Curious, Kayla ©Inquisitive Perspectives 2017
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