My siblings and I were sitting in our home discussing how you can talk to your parents to make them trust you more. My sister Maria said, “Our parents think that we wouldn’t have the strength to walk away from a bad situation. We have tried telling them that we have already walked away from bad situations, but that is not good enough for them.” My elder sister Jeanne argued that the issue of trust can be a source of considerable tension between youth and parents. My younger brother Christopher, my elder brother Nelson, and I all agreed. In the middle of our discussion, our parents came back from the market. They bought me shoes, and I was happy because I did not have shoes for going to church. Jeanne said, “Today, I will prepare a good meal. You will enjoy it.” Nelson said let us wait for what you shall prepare for us. After a brief time, Jeanne brought beans and rice to the table for our evening meal. As we ate, our father said to Nelson and me, “We shall not be with you for a while. Make sure you take care of yourselves.” “Where are you going to be?” Nelson asked. My father answered, “We are going to Kampala, Uganda to see whether we can get a job, and move away from this miserable life of eating green vegetables.” Nelson agreed, saying, “I hope when you will reach there, everything will be okay. And you know how much we love you. We cannot spend even twenty-four hours without seeing you. How long are you going to stay there?” “We shall be away for only one week,” my father answered. My brother Nelson said, “I wish you a wonderful journey.” * When my parents started their journey from DRC to Kampala they were very happy about the city. My father made a friend called John and asked him how he might get a job. John answered, “You have a chance. My boss is looking for another person who will replace me.” My father asked, “To replace you? What have you done?” “Nothing wrong. I need to see my children in Ghana,” John answered, “one of my children is very sick from malaria.” John said that he was leaving the next morning, and he told my father, “let us go and see my boss now.” * After his first month of work, my father sent some money to us. My elder brother Nelson told our father on the phone, “First, one week passed, and now it has been one month. When will you come back?” My father and mother wanted to remain there due to the beauty of the city. So my father answered, “We shall send you money for transport. Meet us in Kampala.” After one week, our parents sent the money and we took the journey to Kampala. We loved the city so much. There were many kinds of foods like matooke and cassava and a lovely, mild climate too. My brother Nelson made many friends as we adjusted to our new home. He started smoking and drinking alcohol with a new crowd of friends. After some weeks of this behavior, my parents called a family meeting. My father began, “Our children, we trust you. Your friends, we don’t. We are afraid of the problems they’ll bring into your life. Look for a good friend who will advise you to follow a good path. A friend that can help you in your future life.” “We love you,” my mother continued, “We do not hate you. From today, we don’t want to see these kinds of friends anymore.” * Early one morning, my parents woke us up and told us to pack everything. Nelson asked where we were going and my parents answered that we were soon going to Nakivale, a refugee resettlement in the southwest of Uganda. I was very annoyed with this information. What I did not know at the time was that my parents did not have good jobs or enough money to stay in Kampala. Once again, we were forced to take a journey. I wondered how I could make good friends in the Nakivale refugee settlement. I thought, if I am angry, I will need someone to vent to. If I am sad, I want someone to tell me it is going to get better. I didn’t want to leave my friends and have to adapt to a new environment once again. I had my family, but I would be alone without friends. * I still live in Nakivale with my family. For now, I am happy to have my best friend called Charles. He comes from a poor family of beggars and he is very humble and clever. I don’t feel okay when I don’t have friends, because friends help me with ideas and advice and cheer me up when I’m sad. Life made me leave many friends in many different places throughout my journey. But I am here now, and I love my family so much and I am happy to have a supportive friend that guides and sustains me. This story was peer reviewed by: Sabrina Lu
Personal Narrative
Ethnographic Interview, by Zoe
I sat my father down in the kitchen so I could interview him about his father. His father had died 5 years prior and though the wounds had healed you could still see the scars and the pain behind my father’s eyes. I asked him the question: what was the best thing your father has ever done for you? With the other questions he took time to think about it, shuffling through his memories, but with this question he took no time at all. He answered, “He was present and made sure I knew it.” My grandfather grew up in Philadelphia with his mom, Mary, and his father, Saul. Saul was never a good father, he was always jealous of my grandfather for his accomplishments and his life. My grandfather didn’t want to be like this, he wanted to be there for his kids, he wanted his children to love him, they did. My grandfather was a family therapist. He helped people process and deal with emotions. How to shuffle through them and help people find the light in the darkest of times. He had to transform himself for his patients, he dug through their lives as if they were filing cabinets to find the best and the happiest of times to remind each of them how much they truly had. He used his own pain and his own trauma to feel empathy and made each of his patients feel special and treasured. If you dug past his pessimistic and stubborn outside you found the good and the incredible within him. The first time my mother ever met my grandfather was on a sunny Monday in New York. Her and my father waited by the curb for him to come. My father looked over my mother’s shoulder and chuckled. He pointed behind her and when she turned around my grandfather was standing there in full bike gear. A bright red bike helmet, knee pads, shoulder pads, and elbow pads. The whole family still laughs at the first impression he made on my mother. One thing I still admire about my grandfather is his freeness. His ability to be himself, to express who he was without embarrassment. To love himself no matter what. His ability to not care.
Memory as Character, by Zoe
My grandfather wore a ring on his left hand. Him and my grandmother had gotten it in Jamaica many years ago. On it was a red cardinal with multi-colored triangle designs surrounding it. On the inside of the ring, carved in tiny letters, was the logo of the makers but it is too far back in my memory for me to remember what it said. I was five when he gave me that ring. My small bony fingers allowed the ring to easily slip off, so my dad took the ring away until I was old enough to wear it. Me and my best friend got a friendship necklace and next to the half of a heart that came with the chain I added my grandfather’s ring. Once I went on a flight to go see my grandmother at Stanford as she was doing a senior course. When I returned home after a weekend of bathing myself in the California sun I dug around in my backpack to find that my grandfather’s ring was nowhere to be found. I felt as if there was a huge hole in my stomach, as if I had somehow lost more of him. I was seven when my grandfather died. I knew death happened but I didn’t understand it. I remember going upstairs, where my grandparents lived, and sitting next to babas bed. My dad and my mom stood by my side as I held my stuffed bunny close to my heart, as if to protect it. I knew he had been sick for a while because his heart didn’t pump enough blood which was why his feet were always purple. That night my grandmother’s dog woke her up in the middle of the night and led her to my grandfather’s side. She watched him take his final three breaths and his soul swim away with a smile. My story reflects on the wider world around me by talking about loss. Us as humans have all experienced loss. We have all experienced sadness. We have all experienced pain either mentally or physically. We have all lost someone close to us and gained someone who changed our lives for the better. This is simply how life works, we are knocked down over and over but find the will and the strength to stand again only now to find that we are stronger than before.
