Life stories erasmus by Γεώργιος Παντελίδης

Editor Josep A. Blasco Coordinators Nicolau Borges, Stella Eliadou Viorica Raicu, Tonia Bacha Andreas Grote, Jan Roenngren, Martha Koulenti Compiler Marc Blasco-Duatis

Life Stories Lessons of Life Authors

Josep A. Blasco, Angela Kaimaklioti, Olimpia Stanciu, Jessicaâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;Celine Eziechinam, Paschalis, Vincent Wan, Andi Ioannou, Shafi Hassani, Despoina Mathioudi, Wolodymr Borachok Ripeski, Karoline Fanese, Cristina Jipa, Safae Abouzian and Anna.

Funded by the European Commission.

Life Stories Lessons of Life

Funded by the European Commission.

Title 17 Life Stories, 17 Lessons of Life. Josep A. Blasco, Angela Kaimaklioti, Olimpia Stanciu, Jessicaâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;Celine Eziechinam, Paschalis, Vincent Wan, Andi Ioannou, Shafi Hassani, Despoina Mathioudi, Wolodymr Borachok Ripeski, Karoline Fanese, Cristina Jipa, Safae Abouzian, Anna. Editor Josep A. Blasco Coordinators Nicolau Borges, Stella Eliadou, Viorica Raicu, Tonia Bacha, Andreas Grote, Jan Roenngren and Martha Koulenti. Compilator and design Marc Blasco-Duatis Edited For an Active citizenship, Inclusion and Development: AID refugees and immigrants. Erasmus+ project 2016/2018: 2016-1-ES01-KA219-025022. 1st edition - april 2018. ISBN 978-989-54120-0-6

This book and each of the chapters it contains, as well as the images included, are under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoncommercialNonDerivative Works 3.0 Unported License. You can consult a copy of this license in http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ This means that you are free to reproduce and distribute this work, provided that you cite the authorship, that it is not used for commercial or lucrative purposes and that it does not make any derivative works. If you want to do any of the things that appear as not allowed, contact the editor of the book or the author of the corresponding chapter at: erasmusrefugees@gmail.com

Acknowledgements Thank you to the authors of the 55 life stories of this Erasmus+ project (www.refugees-immigrants.com/blog-1)... The authors who opened up their lives to share them with us. Thank you because your experience gave us the chance to grow every day as persons: Josep A. Blasco, Angela Kaimaklioti, Paulina, Olimpia Stanciu, Jessica–Celine Eziechinam, Paschalis, Heidi Sundelin, Andreea Şelaru, Stefan Dias Antony, Vincent Wan, Serate, Amal, Tesfaldet Bahta, Joan Auger, Johannes, Despoina Mathioudi, Amar, Shafi Hassani, Miroiu Alexandra Elena, Yasir, Abdullah, Leyla, Marius, Vlad Elena Alice, Giorgos Poulis, Maroula Karasavva, Christina Sofian, Niki Nicolau, Karoline Fanese, Alessia Cecamore, Posea Ana-Eliza, Grădinaru Elena-Diana, Niculescu Roxana-Mihaela, Cristina Jipa, Andreea Simion, Valentini Hatzipanteli, Andi Ioannou, Katerina Borakai, Safae Abouzian, Marina Hoernecke, Wolodymr Borachok Ripeski, Anna, Catherine Jones, Rui Gomes, Ferdaus Yahyaoui, Sem Winkelman, Jafet Moncada… and the other authors who wish to preserve their anonymity. Financing This publication has been funded by the project For an Active citizenship, Inclusion and Development: AID refugees and immigrants (2016-1-ES01KA219-025022 reference). Project funded by the European Commission (2014/2016), in the program Erasmus+ KA2 mode.

Dedication To all of those who dedicate their day-to-day life, endangering their lives by helping migrants and refugees... especially to PROACTIVA OPEN ARMS.

Prologue Chios Island, Greece…2016. An Erasmus+ transnational meeting was held in order to organize the project “AID refugees and immigrants”. The planning was going well; we were following the application form in all the steps…when something changed the plans. You can say it was the refugee camps we saw, or the feeling that people wanted to speak out their story or the helplessness we felt facing this overwhelming situation…or the orange lifejacket we found captured on the rocks of the harbor screaming to be released. Whatever the reason, our lives were different after this experience. We decided to personalize the project, to give people the chance to share, to talk, to express their life stories. This book is only a small part of those life stories that refugees and immigrants shared with us. And this book is only a small contribution in order to say: “We are here to hear you”! From the coordinators’ team.

Index

1. After all, tomorrow is another day…

2. Angeliki

3. Olimpia's story

4. My name is Jessica-Celine!

5. Mr Paschalis, an immigrant from Albania

6. My roots are Asian…

7. My personal story

8. I heard much about Europe and how you could study and work there

9. 19 year old girl from Afghanistan

10. Living as a refugee during the Second World War in Cyprus

11. On my way to the unknown

12. 20 years old... missing in action

13. Missin in action: 1974-2017... the epilogue

14. Karoline Fanese

15. How I became a mother

16. From Nador to Palamós: inclusion of the newcomers and intercultural tolerance

17. My own testimony

Life Story

AFTER ALL, TOMORROW IS ANOTHER DAY...

DESPRÉS DE TOT, DEMÀ SERÀ UN ALTRE DIA... Josep Antoni Blasco Fernández Χίος, Greece - October 2016

I am in Χίος, Greece, the island of Homer. I crossed our sea to this wonderful island to participate in the ﬁrst meeting of a new Erasmus+ project, about refugees and immigrants.

Sóc a Χίος, Grècia. L’illa d’Homer. He creuat el nostre mar ﬁns aquesta meravellosa illa per participar en l’inici d’un nou programa Erasmus+ sobre refugiats i immi- 11 grants.

Yesterday, Nicolau shared a photo of an amazing sunrise and today we agreed to go together for a morning walk. Stella is also coming. We started walking following the bay. A pleasant conversation with two very good friends about previous projects, shared experiences and expectations put on the new project and the new partners. At a certain point we ran into an old bunker overlooking the bay. Stella tells us that it was built forty years ago to defend the island from a possible Turkish attack, when Turkey invaded Cyprus.

Ahir, en Nicolau va compartir una foto amb una increïble sortida de Sol i acordàrem que avui sortiríem acompanyats per la Stella a fer una caminada matinal. Sortim vorellant la badia. Una agradable conversa amb dos grans amics al voltant d’anteriors projectes, d’experiències compartides i de les expectatives que el nou projecte i els nous socis desperten. En un punt determinat ens topem amb un antic búnquer amb vistes a la badia. La Stella ens explica que es va construir fa uns quaranta anys per defensar l’illa d’un possible atac turc, quan aquest país va envair el seu, Xipre.

Right on the beach close to the bunker we could see a refugee settlement. It was very evident. The tents, just like the ones we 12 had seen so often on the news, now materializing in front of us, a cruel reality. Probably the settlement is starting another new eternal day... full of eternal hopes for them... The walk continues under the inﬂuence of the bunker and the impact of the refugee settlement both on the same image. We got to a point where we spotted something red among the rocks of the pier, just where the sea water breaks softly into small waves. We approached... and a chill ran through our bodies. It was a life jacket. One of those that rescue the refugees traveling by crowded inﬂatable dinghies full of people risking their lives.

Just a la platja del costat del búnquer vam veure un assentament de refugiats. Era molt evident. Les tendes d’acampada que tantes vegades havíem vist als telenotícies, ara es materialitzaven cruelment reals davant nostre. Probablement a l’assentament començava un nou etern dia... ple d’eterna esperança per ells... El passeig segueix sota la inﬂuència de l’impacte del búnquer i dels refugiats en una mateixa imatge. Arribem ﬁns un punt en que quelcom vermell s’albira entre les roques de l’espigó, just on l’aigua de mar trenca en forma de suau onades. Ens vam atansar i un calfred ens va envair. Era una armilla salvavides. Una d’aquelles amb les que rescaten els refugiats que viatgen en llanxes atestades de persones que es juguen la vida.

The three of us froze. With the life jacket into my hands we tried to imagine the story behind it... we wished that the person who wore it, got what he/she wanted ... that he/she is alive... We silenced for moments... without words to explain the feelings that the vest gave us. I take this as an omen, an omen that tells me that this project is much more than an Erasmus+ project... it is a necessity for my work as a teacher. That jacket has travelled from Χίος to Palamós... and it will be travelling to all our future meetings as a silent witness of the suﬀering that thousands of people have experienced along years. I hope that who wore the lifejacket may think now that it is true the last sentence from Gone with the Wind: "After all, tomorrow is another day…" because he/she has found their much chased “tomorrow”...

Tots tres vam quedar glaçats. Amb l’armilla entre les mans intentàvem imaginar la història que amagava... desitjaven que la persona portadora hagués salvat la vida... vam emmudir per moments... sense paraules per poder explicar els sentiments que ens va transmetre aquella armilla. Vaig prendre aquesta trobada com un auguri que ens marcaria l’esdevenir del projecte. Aquella armilla ha viatjar des d’aquell espigó de la illa de Χίος ﬁns a Palamós i ens acompanyarà a totes les nostres trobades futures, com a testimoni mut del patir que milers i milers de persones han 13 experimentat al llarg d’anys. Vull pensar que per qui va vestir aquesta armilla, s’hagi feta realitat aquella frase ﬁnal d’Allò que el vent s’endugué: “després de tot, demà serà un altre dia...” M’agradaria pensar que qui va vestir l’armilla va aconseguir el seu endemà que tant va perseguir...

Life Story

ANGELIKI

Angela Kaimaklioti Larnaka, Cyprus - October 2016

This is Angeliki, 7 years old, student of the second grade of Kalogeras Primary School. She temporarily lives with her family and other refugees from Ammohostos in the so called Larnaka Club. The same room is shared among five families-thirty people more or less. At night they sleep on blankets, on the floor. Often, some ladies come to the Club and they bring clothes and food. It’s December 1974. Angeliki doesn’t smile. She is wearing a red sweater that the Red Cross gave her the other day. Today, her mum is taking her to have her picture taken by a photographer but first they have to pass from Anna’s hairdressing salon where her long, precious braids are cut without mercy. Angeliki is crying and complaining but her mum says that there is not

Αυτή είναι η Αγγελική, 7 χρονών, μαθήτρια της Β´ τάξης του Δημοτικού Σχολείου Καλογερά. Μένει προσωρινά μαζί με την οικογένειά της και άλλους 15 πρόσφυγες από την Αμμόχωστο, στη Λέσχη Λάρνακας. Μοιράζονται το ίδιο δωμάτιο πέντε οικογένειες περίπου τριάντα άτομα. Τα βράδια κοιμούνται σε κουβέρτες στο πάτωμα. Συχνά έρχονται στη Λέσχη κάποιες κυρίες και τους φέρνουν ρούχα και φαγητό. Είναι Δεκέμβρης του 1974. Η Αγγελική δεν χαμογελά. Φορά ένα κόκκινο πουλόβερ που της έδωσαν τις προάλλες στα γραφεία του Ερυθρού Σταυρού. Η μαμά της σήμερα την πάει για φωτογράφιση αφού προηγουμένως περάσουν από το κομμωτήριο της Άννας όπου κόβονται δίχως οίκτο οι βελούδινες κοτσίδες που πέφτουν πλούσια στους ώμους της. Κλαίει

enough water to wash all that hair. She doesn’t smile not even when 16 the photographer asks her to so. But the photograph has to be taken. It will be sent to a Greek family in Thessaloniki who wants to meet her. With her photograph, Angeliki will send a thank you letter as well. “….I am Angeliki Panagi. I am writing to you to thank you about the clothes you have sent me and the money too. But the only thing I want is to go home. It will be Christmas in a few days and I believe that every child should be happy and joyful. I am happy only when I am at home. I want to go back to my home! My wish is that next

και διαμαρτύρεται η Αγγελική αλλά η μαμά λέει πως δεν υπάρχει αρκετό νερό για λούσιμο των μαλλιών. Δεν χαμογελά λοιπόν παρόλο που ο φωτογράφος, της το ζητά με χίλιους τρόπους. Η φωτογραφία πρέπει να βγει για να σταλεί σε μια οικογένεια Ελλήνων στη Θεσσαλονίκη που θέλουν να τη γνωρίσουν. Μαζί με τη φωτογραφία, η Αγγελική θα στείλει κι ένα ευχαριστήριο γράμμα. "...Είμαι η Αγγελική Παναγή. Σας γράφω για να σας ευχαριστήσω για τα ρούχα που μου στείλατε και για τα λεφτά. Όμως εγώ θέλω να πάω σπίτι μου. Σε λίγες μέρες είναι Χριστούγεννα και νομίζω ότι κάθε παιδί πρέπει να χαίρεται. Μόνο στο σπίτι μου χαίρομαι. Θέλω να επιστρέψω! Εύχομαι του χρόνου

Christmas we will be free and then I will invite you to my house!...” Forty years since then… Angeliki stands before me without a smile-eyes only-every time I have to defend a child whose rights are violated. If I succeed, Angeliki smiles… :-)

τα Χριστούγεννα να ελευθερωθούμε και τότε θα σας καλέσω στο σπίτι μου!..." Σαράντα χρόνια από τότε... Η Αγγελική στέκεται απέναντί μου χωρίς χαμόγελο -μάτια μόνο- κάθε φορά που πρέπει να υπερασπιστώ ένα παιδί, του οποίου καταπατούνται τα δικαιώματα. Αν τα καταφέρω, η Αγγελική χαμογελά... :-)

Life Story

OLIMPIA’S STORY

POVESTEA LUI OLIMPIA

Olimpia Stanciu Buzau, Romania - November 2016

Olimpia Stanciu, a 35 -year old Romanian, met her Syrian husband 12 years ago, in Cyprus. She went to Syria together with her husband and she set up her own beautiful household, situated în Majer al-Abas' native area, 7 kilometres away from the city of Homs. They had three children and things were ﬁne. Unfortunately, the war put an end to their happiness. “Three years ago things were ﬁne. We had a 6- room house and an artesian well in the yard. My husband was the owner of an animal farm somewhere at the end of the village and with the money that he had, he became the breadwinner and he also managed to put some money aside. Starting with the 27th of March 2011, rebellions began în Homs.

Olimpia Stanciu, o româncă de 35 ani şi-a cunoscut soţul sirian în urmă cu 12 ani, în Cipru. După un an, şi-a urmat soţul în Siria, unde şi-au întemeiat o frumoasă 19 gospodărie în localitatea natală a lui Maher al-Abas, la şapte kilometri distanţă de oraşul Homs. Aveau împreună trei copii, iar lucrurile mergeau bine. Doar ca fericirea le-a fost curmată de razboi. ”Trăiam foarte bine până acum cinci ani. Aveam casă cu şase camere şi fântână arteziană în curte. Soţul deţinea la marginea satului o fermă de animale. Cu banii obţinuţi soţul ţinea toată familia şi reuşea să şi pună deoparte. După 27 martie 2011, au început revolte în Homs.

For a while everything was ok in the village, sometimes some shot guns could be heard. The 8th of February 2012 will always be the 20 darkest date in the calendar because it was then when the tragedy of my family started. During that day, our house, where I was living with my children and a sister -in- law, was destroyed by a tank. We survived but our house became a ruin. We just couldn't stay in the village, because hundreds of tanks full of soldiers, looking for rebels, came. I was pregnant with my 4th child, when my husband told me, his brotherin-law and his wife to leave, he gave us his Mazda truck and sent us far away from the war. My husband decided to stay and take care of the farm. We reached a place called Sukhnah, 50 kilometres away from Palmyra, where we became tenants for about 6

A fost linişte în comună, o perioadă, se uzeau doar sporadic împuşcături. 8 februarie 2012 va rămâne o dată neagră în calendar, întrucât atunci a început drama familiei mele. În acea zi, un tanc a tras direct în casa în care eram împreună cu copiii şi o cumnată. Am scăpat cu viaţă însă casa a fost distrusă, devenind nelocuibilă. Nu se mai putea sta în comună, pentru că veniseră sute de tancuri cu militarii care căutau rebeli din casă în casă. Eram însărcinată cu al IV-lea copil, când soţul ne-a grupat cu cumnatul, soţia lui, ne-a dat camioneta Mazda şi ne-a trimis departe de război. Soţul a rămas la fermă. Am ajuns în localitatea Sukhnah, la 50 de kilometri de Palmyra, unde am locuit vreo şase luni cu chirie.

months. But we couldn't bear the situation, I took my children and we got to Palmyra where we stayed for two years. My husband worked at a different farm until 2015 when the terrorists made their appearance and we had to run again. We decided to reach the northern border of the country, to get to Turkey, but our guides made some mistakes. We had to stop in Alep, before reaching a refugee camp in Turkey. We walked 30 kilometres, în a 60 -person group, guided by people paid with 200 euros for each person. I and my husband had each a child on our backs and the elder two children were walking. After many hours of walking, during cold, winter nights, we noticed that the younger children had lost their conscience. They were almost frozen. The other people in our group helped us with thick clothes and water. We had difficulties in reaching a village which was 3 kilometres away from Alep. The rebels controlled the town and they welcomed us, because we were by their side. But, unfortunately, hell was about to come! We saw hundreds of people with their heads cut off, thrown away in the street.

Nu am mai rezistat, am luat copiii şi am venit în oraş, în Palmyra, unde am stat vreo doi ani de zile. Soţul a lucrat tot la o fermă până în 2015 când au sosit teroriştii şi aici şi am fost puşi iar pe drumuri. Am hotărât să plecăm spre graniţa de nord a ţării, pentru a ajunge în Turcia, numai că planurile ne-au fost încurcate de călăuze. Am fost nevoiţi să facem un popas în Alep, înainte să ajungem într-o tabără de refugiaţi din Turcia. Am mers pe jos 30 de kilometri, într-un grup de vreo 60 de persoane, duşi de călăuze plătite cu câte 200 de euro pentru ﬁecare persoană. Eu şi soţul meu aveam în spate câte un copil, 21 iar cei doi mai mari mergeau pe langă noi. După ore de mers noaptea în timp de iarnă, am constatat ca cei mici nu mai erau conştienţiaproape înghetaseră. Ajutorul a venit din partea celorlalţi parteneri de drum care aveau asupra lor haine groase de rezervă şi apă. Am ajuns cu greu într-un sat aﬂat la trei kilometri distanţă de Alep. Oraşul era pe mâna rebelilor şi ne-au primit bine, pentru că veneam din partea lor. Dar aici am văzut iadul pe pământ! Sute de oameni decapitaţi şi aruncaţi pe străzi.

My children saw these atrocities as well and they will always remember them. Even today, when we feel safe, the younger ones are afraid of the planes from the military airport in BobocBuzau and they hide under the table. We went through hell there, then we walked towards the border with Turkey, where we used to sleep under the clear sky till the Turkish people accepted us. But the Turkish authorities separated us. My four children and I were taken to Romania, while my husband, Maher Al 22 Abas, stayed în the refugee camp because he did not have Romanian citizenship or a passport. We got rid of the atrocities of the war, but now we have another enemy: poverty. I returned to the village where I was born, Cochirleanca, situated in Buzau and I live in a small room in an old house at the mercy of people. Here, the 4 children, Apas-9 years old, Hamad-7 years old, Nagip-6 years old, Saeer-5 years old go through a lot of diﬃculties and they miss their father they have not seen for such a long time. They go to school, but they almost have nothing from what the other children have. It's very diﬃcult because only the eldest child

Nenorocirile le-au văzut şi copiii mei, care au rămas marcaţi pe viaţă. Chiar și acum, când suntem în siguranţă, cei mici se sperie când aud avioane de la aeroportul militar de la Boboc-Buzău şi se bagă sub masă. Am trăit un calvar acolo,apoi am mers către graniţa cu Turcia, unde dormeam în aer liber, până când ne-au deschis turcii şi ne-au primit. Însă autorităţile turce ne-au separat. Pe mine şi pe cei 4 copii ne-au trimis în România, în timp ce capul familiei, Maher Al Abas, a rămas în tabăra de refugiaţi pentru că nu are cetăţenie română şi nu are paşaport. Am scapat de atrocitatile razboiului, însă acum ne luptăm cu sărăcia. M-am întors în localitatea buzoiană Cochirleanca, acolo unde m-am născut şi locuiesc într-o camaruţă dintr-o casa bâtrînească, din mila sătenilor. Aici, cei patru copii, Apass-9 ani, Hamad-7 ani, Nagip-6 ani, Saeer-5 ani, sunt măcinaţi de greutăţi dar şi de dorul de tată pe care nu l-au mai văzut. Acum se duc la şcoală, însă nu au aproape nimic din ceea ce au colegii lor. Este greu pentru că doar cel mare

knows how to speak Romanian, the others know only the Arabic language. I do not have any incomes and I can't work either till my husband comes because I just cannot leave my children by themselves. They are still scared and shocked by the tragedies they had seen. I don't have the right to any allowance or any other right given by the Romanian government as I have no documents. I want to thank the Romanian government because they helped me and my children to leave Turkey and I would also like to thank The Erasmus+ team, who supported us and brought my children textbooks, school supplies and other things that we needed so much.”

ştie puţin limba romană, ceilalţi vorbesc doar limba arabă. Eu n-am niciun venit şi nici nu pot să lucrez până nu vine soţul meu pentru că n-am cu cine să-i las pe cei mici. Sunt încă speriaţi şi şocaţi de tragediile pe care le-au văzut. Fără niciun act nu pot beneﬁcia de alocaţie şi de niciun drept oferit de statul român. Vreau să mulţumesc statului român că a facilitat plecarea mea şi a copiilor din Turcia şi echipei Erasmus+, care ne-a acordat sprijin şi le-a adus copiilor mei manuale, rechizite şi alte bunuri de care avem nevoie”. 23

Life Story

MY NAME IS JESSICACELINE! ICH HEISSE JESSICACELINE! Jessica–Celine Eziechinam Rheda-Wiedenbrück, Germany December 2016

My name is Jessica–Celine Eziechinam and I am 18 years old. Due to my curly hair and my dark skin people pretty quickly assume that I must be from Africa. That is only partly true, since I am also of German origin.

Ich heiße Jessica-Celine Eziechinam und bin 18 Jahre alt. Durch mein krauses Haar und meine dunkle Haut stellen alle relativ schnell fest, dass ich aus Afrika sein müsse. Das 25 stimmt auch – zum Teil. Denn in mir stecken auch deutsche Wurzeln.

My mother is German, my father is from Nigeria. As a child of two cultures I am a “halfcast”. My home is in Germany, since I grew up here. I was brought up more the German way. But I also got impressions on the African way of education thanks to my aunt and uncle at home. Unfortunately I do not speak my father´s native language, called “Igbo”, I only speak German and

Meine Mutter ist Deutsche und mein Vater Nigerianer. Als Kind in welches das Blut von zwei Kulturen durchströmt, spricht man auch von einem 'Halfcast', was auf deutsch so viel wie 'Mischling' bedeutet. Meine Heimat ist Deutschland, hier bin ich groß geworden. Erzogen wurde ich eher auf die deutsche Art und Weise. Einblicke in die afrikanische Erziehung habe ich dennoch bei meiner Tante und bei meinem Onkel Daheim erfahren. Leider beherrsche ich die Muttersprache meines Vaters, die sich Igbo nennt, nicht. Ich spreche ausschließlich Deutsch und

English. Even tough I have never been to Nigeria and also do not have any relations to Africa (for example contact to other people 26 with an African background) I feel closely related to my African roots. If people ask me “Are you German?” or “ Are you African?”, it is often hard to find a suitable answer because I am both, a German/Nigerian girl. Different- that is the way many Germans see me and they often want to prove this to me. Starting with my hair. Everybody wants to touch itshowing me respect by politely asking first before touching it unasked and tousling it like an animal rarely happens. And then there is the

Englisch. Obwohl ich noch nie in Nigeria war und auch mein Alltag keinerlei Bezug zu Afrika stellt (bspw. Kontakte mit Personen, die einen afrikanischen Background haben), fühle ich mich meinen afrikanischen Wurzeln sehr nahe. Wenn mich einer fragt „Bist du Deutsche?“ oder „Bist du Afrikanerin?“, dann ist es oft schwer eine konkrete und sichere Antwort zu geben. Ich bin beides. Ein deutsch/nigerianisches Mädchen. Anders – so sehen mich viele Deutsche und das wollen sie mir oft unter Beweis stellen. Angefangen bei den Haaren. Jeder möchte mal anfassen – mir dabei Respekt erweisen, indem man mich höﬂich darum bittet, bevor man unaufgefordert seine Hände auf meine Haare legt und sie wie ein Tier wuschelt, kommt nur in den seltensten Fällen vor. Und dann ist da die Sache mit der

skin colour. Fortunately there have never been situations in which I was faced with discrimination or confronted with hateful remarks that have restricted my way of living or hurt my feelings due to my darker skin colour. Nevertheless it has not always been easy. At my former school in 9th and 10th grade I was confronted with racist remarks by my male classmates on a daily (!) basis. They uttered sentences like “Do I have to pull the leash again to make you listen?”, “Is your father a mecha NIGGER?”, “Dinghy lips” and so on. I especially remember one classmate because he never missed a chance and constantly called me “Nigger”. At the age of 7 or 8 some teenagers uttered a murder threat on a playground such as “If you fucking Nigger don´t get lost at once, we are going to kill you.” Even today there are situations in which I am confronted with stupid remarks or people make jokes at my expense.

Hautfarbe. Glücklicherweise haben sich nie Problemsituationen ergeben, in denen ich wegen meiner dunklen Haut mit Diskriminierung oder hasserfüllten Beleidigungen konfrontiert worden bin, die mich dann in meiner Lebensweise und in meinen Empﬁndungen stark beeinträchtigt haben. Aber immer einfach war es dennoch nicht. In meiner Realschulzeit (9. / 10. Klasse) wurden mir täglich (!) von meinen männlichen Mitschülern rassistische Äußerungen gegen den Kopf geworfen. Dabei ﬁelen Worte und Sätze wie „Na muss ich dich wieder an die Leine ziehen damit 27 du gehorchst?“, „Ist dein Vater MechaNIGGER?“ „Schlauchbootlippen“ uvm. An einen Schüler kann ich mich ganz besonders erinnern, denn dieser ließ keine Sekunde aus, um mich ununterbrochen als „Nigger“ zu bezeichnen. Mit sieben oder acht Jahren erhielt ich von Jugendlichen auf dem Spielplatz eine Morddrohung, die Worte waren ungefähr diese: „Wenn du scheiß Nigger nicht sofort abhaust, dann bringen wir dich um.“ Auch heute kriegt man mal hier und da einen blöden Kommentar rein gedrückt oder es werden auf meine Kosten Witze gemacht.

That can´t be helped- unfortunately. But I try to never take these comments too personal and avoid any contact to such people. Today this has become easier for me and luckily I have not made any negative experiences with exclusion at the Einstein Gymnasium. I am accepted and respected by everyone. For who I am and how I am.

Das bleibt leider nicht aus. Dennoch versuche ich mir das nie zu Herzen zu nehmen und meide jeglichen Kontakt zu solchen Persönlichkeiten. Heute fällt es mir viel leichter und erfreulicherweise habe ich auf dem Einstein-Gymnasium bislang keine negativen Erfahrungen mit Ausgrenzung machen müssen. Ich werde von jedem akzeptiert und respektiert. So wie und wer ich bin.

Life Story

MR PASCHALIS, AN IMMIGRANT FROM ALBANIA Ο ΚΥΡΙΟΣ ΠΑΣΧΑΛΗΣ (΄ΕΝΑΣ ΜΕΤΑΝΑΣΤΗΣ ΑΠΟ ΤΗΝ ΑΛΒΑΝΙΑ) Mr. Paschalis Chios, Greece - January 2017

It is almost 20 years now since Mr Paschalis made his life decision to leave his country and seek for a better future in a new country. In his country, Albania, there was a civil war that caused poverty and uncertainty. His parents tried to survive but young Paschalis who served the army at that moment realized that he had no prospects there. His friends were talking about Greece and Italy and it seemed that there was a little hope for them to settle in one of these countries. The most diﬃcult thing for young Paschalis was to announce his decision to his family that he and his brother were going to leave their country illegally and migrate to Greece.

Έχουν περάσει 20 περίπου χρόνια από τότε που ο κύριος Πασχάλης πήρε τη πιο σημαντική απόφαση για τη ζωή του,δηλαδή, να αφήσει τη χώρα του,την Αλβανία,όπου 29 γινόταν εμφύλιος πόλεμος με αποτέλεσμα να υπάρχει παντού φτώχεια και αβεβαιότητα.Οι γονείς του προσπαθούσαν να επιβιώσουν αλλά ο νεαρός Πασχάλης που υπηρετούσε τότε στο στρατό κατάλαβε ότι αν έμενε εκεί η ζωή του δεν θα είχε καμιά προοπτική.Οι φίλοι του συζητούσαν για την Ελλάδα και την Ιταλία και φαινόταν ότι υπήρχε μια μικρή ελπίδα για αυτούς να εγκατασταθούν σε μια από αυτές τις χώρες.Το πιο δύσκολο πράγμα για το νεαρό Πασχάλη ήταν να ανακοινώσει την απόφαση του στην οικογένεια του,δηλαδή ότι αυτός και ο αφερφός του θα έφευγαν από τη χώρα τους παράνομα και θα μετανάστευαν

to Greece. Although the situation was very diﬃcult, their parents knew how dangerous it would be for their children to leave their 30 country and go to a foreign place. For that reason, Paschalis and his brother left their home one winter night without saying anything to anyone. From that moment on, they lived an experience that they will never forget in their life. They started walking for two and a half days having some few basic things with them, such as a little food and water, until they reached the national road. Then by car they managed to reach the borders between Albania and Greece. Exhausted and frightened as they were, they entered Greece and started walking again trying to reach a big town, Ioannina, in Greece.

στην Ελλάδα. Αν και η κατάσταση ήταν πολύ δύσκολη,οι γονείς τους ήξεραν πόσο δύσκολο θα ήταν για αυτούς να πάνε σε ένα ξένο τόπο. Γι’ αυτό το λόγο ο Πασχάλης και ο αδελφός του έφυγαν από το σπίτι τους μια κρύα χειμωνιάτικη νύχτα χωρίς να πουν τίποτα και σε κανέναν. Από εκείνη τη στιγμή,έζησαν μια εμπειρία που δεν θα ξεχάσουν ποτέ στη ζωή τους.Ξεκίνησαν να περπατούν για δυομιση μέρες έχοντας μαζί τους κάποια βασικά πράγματα όπως λίγο φαγητό και νερό,μέχρι που έφτασαν στην εθνική οδό.Μετά με αυτοκίνητο κατάφεραν να φτάσουν στα σύνορα της Αλβανίας με την Ελλάδα. Εξαντλημένοι και φοβισμένοι καθώς ήταν,μπήκαν στην Ελλάδα και ξεκίνησαν να περπατούν ξανά μέχρι να φτάσουν σε μια μεγάλη ελληνική πόλη,τα Ιωάννινα.Ήταν

It was a big surprise for them that the people they met in the greek villages helped them by giving them food and water. After a few days from Ioannina, in the north of Greece, they arrived in Athens and then by ferry to Chios, an island on the eastern part of Greece. Mr Paschalis recalls the moment that they arrived at the house where they were going to stay and met the owner, Mrs Mary. She did her best to bring them food, water and warm clothes to change after such a tiring journey. Mr Paschalis feels grateful for that lady and the hospitality that he received from the locals. Now after so many years, he and his wife Mrs Evi and their daughters, Alexandra and Mary (students in our school), feel at home. He has never regretted making his decision to leave his country and come to Greece. He works here and his daughters were born in Chios. His advice to them is to educate themselves and learn foreign languages and the most important to respect the people

μεγάλη έκλπηξη για αυτούς να βλέπουν ότι οι κάτοικοι στα μικρά ελληνικά χωριά τους βοηθούσαν δίνοντας τους φαγητό και νερό.Μετά από λίγες μέρες από τα Ιωάννινα,στα βόρεια της Ελλάδας,έφτασαν στην Αθήνα και μετά με πλοίο στη Χίο, ένα νησί στα ανατολικά της Ελλάδας. Ο κ. Πασχάλης θυμάται τη στιγμή που έφτασαν στο σπίτι που αργότερα θα έμεναν και συνάντησαν την ιδιοκτήρια του, την κ.Μαίρη.΄Εκείνη έκανε ό,τι μπορούσε για να τους φέρει φαγητό,νερό και ζεστά ρούχα για να αλλάξουν μετά από ένα τόσο κουραστικό ταξίδι.Ο κ. Πασχάλης 31 αισθάνεται ευγνωμοσύνη για την κυρία Μαίρη και για τη φιλοξενία που δέχθηκε από τους κατοίκους. Σήμερα μετά από τόσα χρόνια,αυτός και η γυναίκα του η κ Εύη και οινκόρες τους Αλεξάντρα και Μαίρη(μαθήτριες του σχολείου μας) αισθάνονται τη Χίο σαν πατρίδα τους.Ποτέ δε μετάνιωσε που πήρε την απόφαση να αφήσει τη χώρα του και να έρθει στην Ελλάδα.Εργάζεται εδώ και οι κόρες τους είναι γεννημένες εδώ, στη Χίο.Η συμβουλή του σε αυτές είναι να μορφωθούν και να μάθουν ξένες γλώσσες και το πιο σημαντικό να σέβονται τους εαυτούς τους και τους ανθρώπους

they live with, no matter what nationality or colour they are. He never stops loving his country and keeps visiting their relatives there but he feels that he belongs to Chios now and is happy for that.

που μοιράζονται τον ίδιο τόπο,χωρίς να λογαριάζουν εθνικότητα ή χρώμα. Ποτέ δε σταμάτησε να αγαπά τη χώρα του και συχνά επισκέπτεται εκεί τους συγγενείς αλλά αισθάνεται ότι ανήκει στη Χίο τώρα και είναι χαρούμενος γι’ αυτό.

Life Story

MY ROOTS ARE ASIAN… MEINE WURZELN SIND ASIATISCH

Vincent Wan Rheda-Wiedenbrück, Germany March 2017 Hello, my name is Vincent Wan and I am 16 years old. At the moment I am a student in 10th grade at Einstein Gymnasium. I like soccer, basketball and cooking a lot and I listen to all kinds of music. At school I learn English and Latin and I speak German and Cantonese since I was young. I was born in Germany, but both my parents are from diﬀerent countries. 30 years ago my mother came from Vietnam with my grandmother and other family members who I don´t really know. My father came from the Netherlands but he also has roots in Asia, that’s probably the reason why I look Asian. I would like to visit my relatives after my graduation. They´re all spread all over the world.

Hallo, mein Name ist Vincent Wan und ich bin 16 Jahre alt. Momentan gehe ich aufs Einstein Gymnasium in die 10 Klasse (EF). Meine Hobbies sind 33 Fußball, Basketball und ich mag es zu kochen, ebenso höre ich alle Arten von Musik. In der Schule lerne ich Englisch und Latein und ich spreche Deutsch und Kantonesisch schon als ich klein war. Ich bin in Deutschland geboren, aber meine beiden Eltern sind aus anderen Ländern. Meine Mutter kam vor 30 Jahren aus Vietnam mit meiner Oma und anderen Familienmitgliedern, die ich allerdings nicht kenne. Mein Vater kommt aus den Niederlanden und er hat auch Wurzeln nach Asien, das wird vermutlich der Grund sein, warum ich asiatisch aussehe. Ich möchte gerne meine Verwandten nach meinem Abitur

They live in Norway, the Netherlands and England for instance. The only really close relative is my grandmother, she is the best in 34 cooking and she also raised me and my siblings in the ﬁrst years because my parents had a Chinese restaurant and so they often worked really long, but that´s maybe the reason why I´m so interested in cooking.

besuchen. Diese sind überall auf der Welt verteilt, z.B. in Norwegen, Niederlanden und England. Die einzige nahe Verwandte ist meine Oma, Sie macht das beste Essen und hat mich und meine Geschwister aufgezogen, weil meine Eltern ein chinesisches Restaurant hatten und so oftmals lange arbeiten mussten.

When I was younger I really hated it when somebody insulted me because of my Asian looks, but now I can really just smile about it. There are a lot of weird things that happened to me because I´m Asian. For instance, that people randomly say “Konnichiwa” or „ni hao “, but I don´t really get their intention of doing so because I neither speak Japanese nor Chinese,

Als ich jünger war, habe ich es gehasst, wenn Leute mich nur, weil ich Asiate bin, beleidigt haben, aber mittlerweile kann ich nur darüber lachen. Es sind mir schon viele komische Sachen passiert, weil ich Asiate bin. Zum Beispiel haben unbekannte Personen mit „Konnichiwa“ oder „ni hao“ angesprochen, aber ich habe nie den Sinn dahinter verstanden, weil ich weder Japanisch noch Chinesisch spreche. Manch einer ist

sometimes they are also surprised that I can speak German, which is actually pretty funny. Not only do I look Asian, but I also fulﬁll the typical cliché. We eat rice like 4 or 5 times a week and yes, we eat literally everything with chopsticks.

sogar überrascht, wenn ich anﬁng Deutsch zu mit ihnen zu reden. Ich kann von mir behaupten, dass ich das typische Klischee eines Asiaten erfüllen. Wir essen 4 bis 5 mal in der Woche Reis und außerdem essen wir so ziemlich alles mit Stäbchen.

Life Story

MY PERSONAL STORY

Η ΠΡΟΣΩΠΙΚΗ ΜΟΥ ΙΣΤΟΡΙΑ

Andi Ioannou Larnaka, Cyprus - October 2017 Dear friends, I would like to share with you a story that happened a long time ago, during the Turkish invasion in Cyprus in 1974. My name is Andy Ioannou, I was born in Famagusta on October 1973. I was a baby back then, during the invasion, and my father was ﬁghting in the war. We were sent out of our home and we had to go to Ormideia area. There, we slept under the carob trees for three days until my father found us. He was looking for us in our house in Famagusta but he didn’t ﬁnd anyone there. Without thinking it twice, my parents decided to go to England where my mother’s parents were living. We went to Limassol, by ship to Piraeus in Greece and from there

Αγαπητέ αναγνώστη Θα ήθελα να μοιραστώ μαζί σου μια ιστορία που συνέβη πριν πολύ καιρό κατά την περίοδο της εισβολής των Τούρκων στην Κύπρο το 1974. Ονομάζομαι Άντη 37 Ιωάννου, κατάγομαι από την Αμμόχωστο και γεννήθηκα τον Οκτώβριο του 1973. Βρέφος τότε στην περίοδο της εισβολής και με τον πατέρα μου να είναι στον πόλεμο, εκδιωχθήκαμε από το σπίτι μας και πήγαμε στην περιοχή της Ορμήδειας. Εκεί κοιμόμαστε κάτω από τις χαρουπιές για 3 μέρες μέχρι που μας βρήκε ο πατέρας μου, αφού είχε περάσει από το σπίτι μας στην Αμμόχωστο και δεν βρήκε κανένα. Χωρίς δεύτερη σκέψη, οι γονείς μου αποφάσισαν να πάνε στην Αγγλία όπου ζούσαν οι γονείς της μητέρας μου. Πήγαμε στη Λεμεσό, με πλοίο στον Πειραιά και από κει

we passed by Evzonous (next to Polykastro, my wife’s town). Then, we passed to Yugoslavia, which was the former name of Serbia. 38 We arrived in Austria. We soon ran out of money and my parents didn’t have any more money to buy milk to feed me. They called my grandmother Chrysoula to send us some money by bank transfer. On the ﬁrst day, my mother went to the bank but the money was not there. The transfer needed 3 days to τcomplete. She went on the second day too but the money was still not there. In the meantime, we were sleeping inside a parking for tracks and without any food in our stomachs. As I was hungry, I was crying the whole day. My mother went to the bank on the third day but the money was still not there. Fortunately, the parking employee asked my mother if she

περάσαμε από τους Ευζώνους (δίπλα από το Πολύκαστρο, την πόλη της γυναίκας μου). Από κει περάσαμε στη Γιουγκοσλαβία, έτσι λεγόταν τότε η Σερβία. Φτάνουμε μετά στην Αυστρία. Εκεί τελειώσανε τα χρήματα και οι γονείς μου δεν είχαν άλλα λεφτά για να μου αγοράσουν γάλα να φάω. Πήρανε τηλέφωνο τη γιαγιά μου τη Χρυσούλα για να μας στείλει λεφτά μέσω τράπεζας. Πάει την πρώτη μέρα η μαμά να τα παραλάβει αλλά θέλανε τρεις μέρες για να ξεκαθαρίσουν. Πάει και τη δεύτερη μέρα αλλά πάλι δεν είχαν έρθει. Κοιμόμαστε σε πάρκινγκ που ήταν για νταλίκες και νηστικοί. Εγώ έκλαιγα από πείνα συνέχεια. Πάει και την τρίτη μέρα η μαμά στην τράπεζα αλλά τα λεφτά δεν είχαν φτάσει. Τότε η υπάλληλος τη ρώτησε αν

wanted to lend her some money and my mother said that the only thing she needed was to feed her starving child. The employee gave her some money and my mother bought a 2-litre bottle just for me. Finally I had something to eat and I calmed down. On the fourth day, the money arrived and my mother returned the money to the employee.

ήθελε να της δανείσει χρήματα και η μαμά μου της είπε ότι ήθελε να πάρει γάλα για το μωρό της που ήταν νηστικό. Η υπάλληλος της δάνεισε τα λεφτά και η μητέρα μου πήρε ένα δίλιτρο γάλα μόνο για μένα. Τελικά έφαγα και ηρέμησα. Την τέταρτη μέρα ήρθαν τα χρήματα και η μητέρα μου επέστρεψε στην υπάλληλο τα χρήματα.

From then on, we continued our journey to England without having taken any personal belongings from our house in Famagusta…

Από κει, συνεχίσαμε το ταξίδι μας προς την Αγγλία χωρίς να έχουμε πάρει τίποτα από το σπίτι μας στην Αμμόχωστο… 39

Life Story

I HEARD MUCH ABOUT EUROPE AND HOW YOU COULD STUDY AND WORK THERE

JAG HÖRDE MYCKET OM EUROPA OCH HUR MAN KUNDE STUDERA OCH ARBETA DÄR Shafi Hassani Strömsund, Sweden - May 2017

I am an Afghan man who was born in Afghanistan and lived there for a short period of time. I later moved to Pakistan and lived there for three years and worked as a rug manufacturer in my neighbor’s house. It was a tough job for me since I could not be as eﬃcient as the other workers cause of my young age. I had to continue working to help support my family. The salary I got from my job did not cover much. It did not even cover rent, clothing or food etc. After Pakistan we ﬂed to Iran. My mother and my two brothers lived in a small apartment together. I started to take random jobs to help support my family. I got one job at a factory where I started work at either 7 O’clock in the evening or at 7 O’clock in the morning. I worked 12 hour shifts every day. Our lives as illegal

Jag är en afghansk man som har fött i Afghanistan och bodde där i ett kort tid. Sedan jag ﬂyttade till Pakistan bodde där i tre år och jobbade med matta (knyta matta) 41 hos min Granne. Det var ett svårt jobb till mig för att jag inte kunde jobba som de andra, för att jag var liten. Och det var så att jag måste jobba för att försörja min familj. Men det räcker inte det lån som jag hade. Det räckte inte med (hyran, mat, kläder m.m.). Sedan vi har ﬂytt till Iran. Vi bodde i ett litet lägenhet med mamma och mina två bröder. Och jag jobbade olika plats med olika saker sedan Jag har fått jobb på en plastik fabrik och jobba där från (klockan 7 på morgonen till 7 på kvällen, eller tväratom 7 på kväll till 7 på morgonen) där var vi illegala

immigrants were very tough. I heard much about Europe and how you could study and work there. When my colleagues 42 traveled to Europe I contemplated following them along. But I did not know where I really wanted to go. I started to work extra hours to save up money. It took me roughly two years to save up enough money to be able to travel to Europe myself. I traveled from Iran to Turkey and then to Greece. After a year I managed to travel from Greece to Italy. My road to Italy was especially diﬃcult. I boarded a truck that was carrying oranges. We had to squeeze in next to boxes of oranges in a cold and narrow compartment. After a couple of hours the truck drove oﬀ towards a city called Patra. From Patra the truck boarded a ship which took us to Italy. We were stuck in the truck for roughly 40

och livet var svårt. Jag hörde mycket om Europa att i Europa kan man studera och efter skolan man få jobba mm. När mina kollegor reste jag tänkte också resa till Europa men jag visste inte vart eller vilken land. Då jag kämpade att jobba extra för att spara lite pengar. Det tog ungefär två år som jag lyckas att spara lite pengar och resa till Europa utan min familj. Vi reste från Iran till Turkiet, Grekland. Efter ett år jag lyckades att resa från Grekland till Italien. Vi åkte lastbilen lasten i lastbilen var apelsin smugglar har tagit ut apelsin kartonger och vi satt ställen kartonger det var tät plats och kallt. Efter några timmar lastbilen körde därifrån mot havet som hete Patra. Och därifrån lastbilen kör i skeppet att komma till Italien. Vi var i lastbilen ungefär mellan 40

hours until we reached Italy. When we reached the Italian border we understood that we had crossed the borderline since the military checked the truck. From Italy we managed to get to Sweden. I came to Sweden in August of 2010 and got a permanent residence after 10 months. It was in the beginning of the summer of 2011 when I started planting trees and in the fall I began school. To be able to start school again I consider being one of the best times of my life. In the fall of 2013 I got in contact with my family again who had been deported back to Pakistan. One of my brothers got sick with leukemia and ended up at a hospital. He was treated for leukemia but after three years it stood clear that the treatment did not work. My brother died on the 14th of November in 2016. I traveled back to attend his funeral but arrived the day after the funeral. Visiting his gravesite was one of the most emotionally draining experiences of my life.

timmar till vi kom fram till Italien, när vi kom till Italiens gräns då förstå vi att vi är i Italien, för att militären kontrollerat lästbilen. sedan jag åkte vidare till Sverige. Jag kom till Sverige i augusti 2010 och fått upphållstillstånd (PUT) efter tio månader. Det var början av sommar 2011 och jag började med plantsättning och på hösten började jag skolan det var bästa tid i mitt hela livet att började skolan. I hösten av 2013 jag fik kontakt med (hittade) min familj som de deporterade från Iran till Afghanistan sedan de flyttade tillbaka till Pakistan berättat min lilla bror. Att 43 mellan bror (andra) bror är sjuk han har leukemi och ligger i sjukhuset vi har behandlat honom men efter tre år han hamnade igen och kommit under behandling men det hjälpte inte och han dog i 14 november 2016. Jag reste till hans begravning och kom fram dag efter hans begravning det var mina tuffaste dagar som jag gått på hans kyrkogård.

I live in Sweden since six and a half years back. I have studied two languages and spent one and a half year to become an assistant nurse. The ﬁrst three years I spent in Sweden I went to school during the semesters and worked in the forest planting trees during the summers. When I completed my education to become an assistant nurse I got a job at a residential home where I worked for a year. Since then I have gotten a job at the school where I work as a guidance counselor and tutor. 44

(Sometimes life is not fair. I wish everyone could have a happy life and future).

Nu jag bor i Sverige sedan sex och halv år tillbaka. Jag läste två år språket, ett och halv år läste jag till undersköterska. I tre första året jag gått på skolan och på sommar lovet jag jobbade som plantering i skogen. När jag blev klart med min utbildning jag ﬁk jobb på äldreboende jag jobbade där ungefär ett år. Sedan ﬁk jag jobb på skolan som studiehandledare snart blir ett och halv år som jag jobbar här. (ibland livet är inte rättvist. Jag önskar att alla skulle ha ett lyckligt liv i sin framtid).

19 YEAR OLD GIRL FROM AFGHANISTAN

Life Story Anonymous Strömsund, Sweden - May 2017 When I was two years old my family moved from Afghanistan to Iran because of the war in Afghanistan. I grew up in Iran and studied there. My father died when I was seven years old, which is why I do not remember much about my father. After my father’s death we experienced a very diﬃcult since my mother had to support four children at the ages of two, six, seven and eight. To be able to make ends meet my mother had to start working. My sister and I could not continue to go to school past grade nine because school costs money and in addition you have to buy the school supplies yourself. My mother could not work full time neither since she had to take care of the children. We had to quit school to help our mother with the daily chores.

We used to work at home sewing shoes on our sewing machine. It was really hard work getting up at 7 o’clock in the morning and work46 ing until 12 o’clock at night. It is very difficult when you are fourteen years old and you can not attend school like other girls your age since you can not afford it. I just had to sit at home working all day, every day. When you live in Iran as a refugee you have to pay for everything. We had to pay for water, electricity, clothing and food without any help from social services. In addition to that we had to pay for a specific kind of identity card which we had to have in order to be able to stay in Iran. If we did not have that card we were forced to go back to Afghanistan.

Life Story

LIVING AS A REFUGEE DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR IN CYPRUS

ΖΏΝΤΑΣ ΣΑΝ ΠΡΌΣΦΥΓΑΣ ΣΤΗΝ ΚΎΠΡΟ ΚΑΤΆ ΤΗ ΔΙΆΡΚΕΙΑ ΤΟΥ ΔΕΎΤΕΡΟΥ ΠΑΓΚΌΣΜΙΟΥ ΠΟΛΈΜΟΥ Despoina Mathioudi Chios, Greece - May 2017

“However, the thought of a refugee, the thought of a captive man, the thought of a man the moment he ends up becoming merchandise, try to change it, you are not able to” “The last station” 1944 (A poem by G.Seferis, Nobel Prize winner) My name is Despoina Mathioudi. I was born in Chios but I found myself living as a refugee during the Second World War in Cyprus. There, in a coastal village called Zigi, I spent four years and I attended the ﬁrst and second class of primary school. I remember the food stores full of locust and locust honey. I stayed in army camps which had been made by the British and I felt the warm hospitality of the locals. In each billet, there were eight families sharing common toilets and a kitchen.

«Όμως τη σκέψη του πρόσφυγα τη σκέψη του αιχμάλωτου τη σκέψη του ανθρώπου σαν κατάντησε κι αυτός πραμάτεια δοκίμασε να την αλλάξεις, δεν μπορείς.» Γ. Σεφέρης 47 «Τελευταίος σταθμός» 1944. Ονομάζομαι Δέσποινα Μαθιούδη γεννήθηκα στη Χίο, αλλά βρέθηκα να ζω σαν πρόσφυγας κατά τη διάρκεια του Β΄παγκοσμίου πολέμου στην Κύπρο. Εκεί σε ένα παραλιακό χωριό το Ζύγι πέρασα τέσσερα ολόκληρα χρόνια και έμαθα τα πρώτα ελληνικά γράμματα στην Α΄ και τη Β΄ τάξη. Θυμάμαι τις αποθήκες με τα χαρούπια και τους χαρουπόμυλους. Έζησα σε στρατιωτικούς καταυλισμούς που είχαν φτιάξει για μας οι Εγγλέζοι και ένιωσα τη ζεστή φιλοξενία των κατοίκων. Σε κάθε κατάλυμα έμεναν οχτώ οικογένειες με κοινές τουαλέτες και κουζίνα.

I will never forget our breakfast offered to us which included eggs, cod liver oil and oranges. After the end of the war I returned to Chios 48 with my mother Argyro who happened to suffer three different pogroms throughout her life. The first one was in 1914 by the Turks when she was forced to leave her village Reisdere next to Cesme and fled to Chios to survive. Unfortunately, she suffered another misfortune for a third time in 1922 when she found herself as a refugee in Cyprus. I recall all these moments of my childhood having a bittersweet feeling. After lots of years, surprisingly, I heard that Zygi the coastal village in Cyprus accommodated again but this time the refugees were Cypriots as a consequence of the Turkish invasion and occupation of the island in 1974.

Δεν θα ξεχάσω το πρωινό που μας πρόσφεραν και περιείχε αυγό, μουρουνέλαιο και πορτοκάλι. Μετά το τέλος του πολέμου γυρίσαμε στη Χίο μαζί με τη μητέρα μου την Αργυρώ, η οποία είχε την τύχη να γνωρίσει στη ζωή της τρεις διωγμούς. Το πρώτο το 1914 από τους Τούρκους, όταν έφυγε από το χωριό της το Ρείσδερε δίπλα στον Τσεσμέ και ήρθε με την οικογένειά της στη Χίο για σωθεί. Δυστυχώς το ίδιο επαναλήφθηκε το 1922 και τρίτωσε η κατάρα με την προσφυγιά στην Κύπρο. Όλα αυτά τα θυμάμαι σαν μια γλυκόπικρη ανάμνηση των παιδικών μου χρόνων. Πέρασαν τα χρόνια κι έμαθα πως το 1974 το ίδιο χωριό το Ζύγι υποδέχθηκε ξανά πρόσφυγες, που αυτή τη φορά ήταν Κύπριοι εξαιτίας την παράνομης εισβολής και κατοχής των Τούρκων.

Life Story

ON MY WAY TO THE UNKNOWN

ПО ВІДНОШЕННЮ ДО НЕВІДОМОГО

Wolodymyr Borachok Ripeski Palamós, Catalonia - August 2017 At the time when the Bolsheviks invaded Ukraine, they fractured our freedom and many people began to be persecuted. With this perspective and with all the events that were happening, the protagonist of this story, after living many tragedies, decided to escape from his country with only 19 years old. It was in 1945 and he did so without saying a word to anybody, neither to his family, for fear of reprisals to his family. The ﬁrst thing he did it was to go to the neighbouring country, Poland, where he stayed for some time. The language was not a problem because he spoke Polish since his childhood so after a time living there he improved it. After a while, he went away to Germany where he had more diﬃculties than he had before. There he stayed much longer than in Poland and attended the

У той час, коли більшовики вдерлися в Україну, ламаються свободи, і багато людей стали зазнавати переслідувань. З цієї точки зору, і всі події, які 49 відбувалися, головний герой цієї історії, проживши багато трагедій, вирішив бігти за кордон тільки з 19 років, ще в 1945 році, і зробив це, не кажучи ні слова ніхто, а не його сім'я, побоюючись репресій, вони не могли б зробити про свою сім'ю. Перше, що він зробив, було йти в сусідню країну, Польщу, де він залишався протягом деякого часу, не є проблемою, яка не зрозуміла з польськими, бо він говорив з крихітними і на деякий час, там до досконалості. Через деякий час, він втік до Німеччини з великою кількістю труднощів, ніж це було раніше. Він пробув там набагато більше, ніж в Польщі і відвідував

conservatory in Munich, where he studied violin and economics and made great efforts to speak the language fluently, unknown to 50 him. He spent several years, and through organizations, he applied for political asylum in Spain, because at that time, all those escaping from the URS were considered stateless. In Germany, refugees were forced to seek asylum in another country, most of them in the United States, Canada ... But when he asked for Spain, the German soldiers were surprised and told him that in other countries one could live much better. They also added that in Spain people were starving, and he answered without any thought, "I am a man of little eating." He finally got permission to come. He entered in Spain by Irún and he arrived by train to Madrid. There he was housed in old colleges that

консерваторію в Мюнхені, де він навчався грі на скрипці і економіки, після довгих зусиль, щоб отримати говорити цією мовою, невідому йому. Він провів кілька років, і через організацію, попросив політичного притулку в Іспанії, тому що в той час, весь біжить в УРС були розглянуті «apatrias». У Німеччині біженці були змушені шукати притулку в іншій країні, і більшість з них робив в США, Канаді,... Але коли він запитав, в Іспанії, німецькі солдати були здивовані і сказали, що в інших країнах жили набагато краще і тут вона голодувала, і він відповів безцеремонно, «Я людина мало їжі». Нарешті він отримав дозвіл приїхати. Він увійшов до Іспанії через Ірун і прибути на поїзді в Мадрид. Там розміщувалися в коледжах,

were for the Eastern political refugees escaping from communism. There were Russians, Ukrainians, Romanians... He stayed in Madrid for several years and studied at the university of Philosophy and Letters the branch of Romance. Meanwhile, he worked as a teacher of German, Russian and Polish at several language institutes. When he ﬁnished his university studies, he applied for a job at Radio Liberty in Playa de Pals, Girona. He had to pass several tests that were disputed in Madrid and he ﬁnally was accepted to work for the American Broadcaster. The company paid for his trip and shortly arrived in Pals and began to work. He worked at that station until he retired. PS: This story is told very lightly, but it was not so easy to get here. The protagonist always took with him his violin and in the case, some spare clothes (he did not take anything else along his journeys). All the routes were done by train. The civil clothes he had in the violin case saved his life when, at the German border, took of the uniform of the Polish soldier, as he knew that the Germans were

які мали для політичних біженців, що біжать на схід від комунізму. Були росіяни, українці, румуни ... Він залишився в Мадриді кілька років і навчався там, гонка мистецтв і романської гілки. У той же час він працював навчання в мовних школах, таких як німецька, російська, польська, ... Коли він закінчив гонку в Мадриді кілька місць для роботи в Радіо Свобода пропонується в Плайя-де-Pals, Герона і подав заявку. Потім він з'явився в різних тестах, які проводилися в Мадриді і, нарешті, погодилися працювати на цій американській 51 телекомпанії. Вони профінансували поїздку і незабаром прибули і почали працювати Pals. У цій станції він працював до виходу на пенсію. PS: Ця історія розказана дуже мало, але не все було так просто, щоб отримати тут. Головний герой, завжди брав із собою скрипку і мішечок, запасні одягу (не брати що-небудь на всіх маршрутах). Шляхи все зроблено для навчання. Одяг вона носила на скрипці врятувала йому життя, коли німецький кордон, одягнений в форму польського солдата, німці депортували

deporting the people from the East to Russian concentration camps, and he could, at the last moment, be able to change his clothes, and go unnoticed.

в східних російських концтаборах, і в останній момент може змінитися і залишитися непоміченим.

Life Story

20 YEARS OLD… MISSING IN ACTION

20 ΕΤΏΝ.... ΑΓΝΟΟΎΜΕΝΟΣ In memoriam of Theodoros Michael Tsomallouris Larnaka, Cyprus - March 2017

Their son was declared missing in action in 1974… The father couldn’t take the pain of losing his son and died in sorrow in 1996. That pain now is solely on the shoulders of the mother, Mrs. Chrystalleni. The years go by and she still waits for a miracle to happen, to see her son Theodoros again entering their house. The name of her missing child is always whispered either by a prayer or by reciting improvised poems touching our souls with every verse… Theodoro’s mother…her pain Wherever you are my son Wear your wings and ﬂy Show yourself in our home And take a look inside

Ο γιος τους κηρύχθηκε αγνοούμενος το 1974…. Ο πατέρας δεν άντεξε τον πόνο και έφυγε το 1996. Τώρα τον πόνο τον έχει φορτωθεί η μάνα, η κ. 53 Χρυσταλλένη. Τα χρόνια περνούν και η πονεμένη μάνα περιμένει ένα θαύμα, να δει τον Θεόδωρο ξανά στο σπίτι. Το όνομα του αγνοούμενου γιου της είναι μόνιμα στα χείλη της, πότε ψιθυρίζοντας μια προσευχή και πότε απαγγέλλοντάς του αυτοσχέδια ποιήματα που ο κάθε στίχος είναι ένα άγγιγμα ψυχής… (το ποίημα είναι γραμμένο στην κυπριακή διάλεκτο) Της μάνας του Θεόδωρου…μητρικός πόνος ‘Οπου τζι αν είσαι γιόκα μου Βάλε φτερά τζιαι πέτα, Νέφανε μες το σπίτι μας, Μιαν αμμαθκιά πελλέτα,

You will realize that I, Have been waiting for you for years And in the deepest depths of my heart You are forever marked.

Να καταλάβεις πως εγιώ Γρόνια σε περιμένω Τζι ότι στα φυλλοκάρκια μου Σ’ έχω ζωγραφισμένο.

Come, in my arms, To hold you close again And with a lullaby To caress you to sleep…

Έλα, μέσα στ΄αγκάλια μου Ξανά να σε κρατήσω, Ένα τραγούδι να σου πω Τζια να σε νανουρίσω….

But, if wings you cannot ﬁnd, Write to me, I want to know, I will come with my limping step On my back to carry you And take you home…

Όμως αν δεν βρίσκεις φτερά Γράψε μου, να το ξέρω, Για να ‘ρτω κούτσα κούτσα εγιώ, Στη ράσιη να σε φορτωθώ, Έσσω μας να σε φέρω…

Life Story

MISSING IN ACTION: 1974-2017… THE EPILOGUE

ΑΓΝΟΟΎΜΕΝΟΣ: 1974-2017... Ο ΕΠΊΛΟΓΟΣ In memoriam of Theodoros Michael Tsomallouris Larnaka, Cyprus - March 2017

On March 10, 2017 we published in this site the Life Story “20 years old… Missing in action” Finally, after 43 years, the remains of Theodoros Tsomallouris, missing in action since 1974, were found and identiﬁed by the DNA method. His funeral took place at Frenaros village where his family lives after the Turkish invasion. We hope that now he can rest in peace and his loved ones will ﬁnd peace of mind…

Στις 10 Μαρτίου 2017, δημοσιεύσαμε σ΄αυτή τη σελίδα την ιστορία "20 years old...Missing in action" Μετά από 43 χρόνια, τα οστά του μέχρι πρότινος αγνοούμενου στη μάχη, Θεόδωρου Τσομαλλούρη, βρέθηκαν και ταυτοποιήθηκαν με τη μέθοδο DNA. Η κηδεία του έγινε στο Φρέναρος όπου ζει ολόκληρη η οικογένειά του από το 1974 μετά την Τουρκική εισβολή. Ας ελπίσουμε ότι τώρα θα αναπαυθεί εν ειρήνη και οι δικοί του θα βρουν επιτέλους ηρεμία…

Life Story

KAROLINE FANESE

Karoline Fanese Caldas da Rainha, Portugal October 2017

I am Karoline Fanese. I was born in Curitiba in 1993. I am the daughter of a family of Italian emigrants who arrived in Argentina in 1890, and later in Brazil in the 90s. In Brazil, I grew up in Curitiba and lived there until I was 13 years old. My childhood was wonderful. I remember the house where I grew up. The house had three ﬂoors and it was made of wood and light blue vinyl. From the large balcony we could see a large yard full of trees. When I got home from school, my cousin and I used to play bow and arrow, spy games, play ninja, ﬂy a kite and run with the horses. The horses names were Morgana and Garoto and both belonged to my older sister, Mayra. When it rained, I spent the afternoon in a small tent made of

Sou a Karoline Fanese, nasci em Curitiba em 1993, sou ﬁlha de uma família de emigrantes italianos que chegaram à Argentina em 1890, e depois ao Brasil na década de 90. 57 No Brasil, em Curitiba cresci e vivi até meus 13 anos. A minha infância foi maravilhosa, lembro-me da casa em que cresci, era de três andares, feita de madeira e vinil azul claro com pequenas madeiras brancas que contornavam a grande varanda, que tinha uma vista para um terreno espaçoso cheio de árvores. Quando eu chegava da escola, junto com meu primo íamos para lá brincar de arco e ﬂecha, espião, ninja, soltar pipa e fugir dos cavalos que tinham ali, uma era a Morgana, e o outro chamava-se Garoto, ambos pertenciam à minha irmã mais velha, Mayra. Quando chovia, eu passava a tarde em uma pequena tenda feita com

sheets and blankets, playing with my toys, using my imagination. I did not like to study, I would rather spend the afternoon play58 ing. I grew up with my brothers. Denis was the oldest and then there were Murilo, Mayra, me and Ana. My parents Carlos and Carmen worked hard so that nothing was missing to the family. In Brazil life was difficult. After my brothers grew up and had their families, we decided to look for our Italian ancestors, and we found them. So we decided to go to Italy as soon as my father had a job offer. The news of leaving for Italy did not please me. I did not want to leave my brothers and my friends, but I had no choice, and when you are a child you do not know what life is. I had never travelled by plane and in the first time I was afraid it would crash!

lençóis e cobertores, brincando com meus brinquedos, usando a imaginação, não gostava de estudar, preferiria passar a tarde brincando. Cresci com meus irmãos, a começar pelo mais velho; Denis, Murilo, Mayra, eu e a Ana. Meus pais Carlos e Carmem trabalhavam muito para que nada nos faltasse, no Brasil a vida era difícil. Depois que meus irmãos cresceram e tiveram a família deles, decidimos procurar por os nossos ancestrais Italianos, e encontramos. Então, decidimos ir para Itália assim que meu pai recebeu uma proposta de emprego.A notícia de irmos embora para a Itália não me agradou, não queria deixar meus irmãos e meus amigos, mas eu não tinha escolha, e quando se é criança se não tem conhecimento do que é a vida. Nunca tinha viajado de avião, a primeira vez ﬁquei com medo que

In Italy, having to start from scratch was difficult. Learning a new language, new habits, and meeting other people. Nevertheless, I was able to fit in, and even learned to enjoy studying and reading books. When the financial crisis hit Europe, it was hard to our family. My father's business went bankrupt and he couldn’t find a job. A friend of ours who lived in England said that the country was full of job opportunities and that she lived very well there, so we went to England. Again, another language, new ways. In terms of studies, I was able to go to Brockenhurst College, considered one of the best, and I took a professional BTEC Business course there. We could never fully adapt to the English way of life, so we decided to go back to Italy, to a village called Atri. Atri was a small village by the the mountain and the sea. It was very beautiful but there was no job opportunities. There I studied Greek, Latin, English, German and French literature. We lived there for a year and then decided to come to Portugal to Caldas da Rainha.

Na Itália, ter que começar do zero foi difícil, aprender uma nova língua, novos costumes, e conhecer outras pessoas. Não obstante, consegui adaptar-me bem, até aprendi a gostar de estudar e ler livros. Quando a crise ﬁnanceira chegou à Europa, foi um golpe fatal para a nossa família, a empresa que meu pai trabalhava faliu e não se achava emprego. Uma conhecida nossa que morava na Inglaterra disse que estava cheio de oportunidades de emprego e que se vivia muito bem, então fomos embora para a Inglaterra. Novamente, outra língua, e costumes. Em termos de estudo, 59 consegui entrar para o Brockenhurst College, considerado um dos melhores, e ali realizei um curso proﬁssional de BTEC Business. Nunca nos conseguimos adaptar com o estilo de vida inglês, então optamos para voltar na Itália, em uma aldeia chamada Atri. Atri era uma pequena aldeia com vista para a montanha e para o mar. Era muito bonito de se ver e viver, mas não havia nenhuma oportunidade de trabalho. Ali estudei literatura grega, latina, inglesa, alemã e francesa. Moramos ali durante um ano e então decidimos vir para Portugal para as Caldas da Rainha.

Today my father has his own Total Repair store, and my mother and I are going to open another store with handcraft sales, customized t-shirts, and other things we do. Looking back, I have left Brazil for 10 years now and I am very grateful that my parents gave me this opportunity.

Hoje meu pai tem sua loja prรณpria loja de Total Reparos, e eu e minha mรฃe vamos abrir outra loja com vendas de artesanatos, camisetas personalizadas, e outras coisas que nรณs fazemos. Olhando para trรกs, faz 10 anos que estou fora do Brasil, e sou muito grata por meus pais terem-me dado essa oportunidade de vida.

Life Story

HOW I BECAME A MOTHER

CUM AM DEVENIT MAMA

Cristina Jipa Buzau, Romania - October 2017

My name is Cristina Jipa, I am sixteen years old and I am a 10th grade student at "Mihai Eminescu" National College, Buzau. For me, family is the most important thing in my life. Recently, my parents decided to work in the Netherlands, because it was very diﬃcult for us ﬁnancially. I supported their idea and encouraged them on their commitment. We are three school-aged children who have many needs. One week after they packed their baggage, our parents left. My father was crying and my mother refrained hard from it not to make us cry, too. I did not cry, even if there was a big struggle in my heart. I was aware that everything was on my shoulders: my house, my household, my sister and my little brother. And yet, I did not cry.

Sunt Cristina Jipa, am șaisprezece ani și sunt elevă în clasa a X-a la Colegiul Naţional ” Mihai Eminescu”, Buzau. Pentru mine, familia este cel mai important lucru 61 din viaţa mea. De curând, părinţii mei au decis să plece la muncă în Olanda, ﬁindcă ne era foarte greu. Eu, le-am susţinut ideea şi i-am încurajat în călătoria lor. Suntem trei copii de vârstă școlară, care au multe nevoi. La o săptămână, după ce şi-au făcut bagajul, părinţii noştri au plecat. Tata plângea, iar mama se abţinea cu greu, ca să nu ne facă pe noi să plângem. Eu nu am plâns, cu toate că în inima mea se dădea o luptă crâncenă. Eram conştientă că totul a rămas pe umerii mei: casa, gospodăria, sora şi frăţiorul meu mai mic. Şi cu toate astea, nu am plâns.

Now I have moments when I feel like giving up, I feel I can not cope, but I'm strong enough to think more about the little ones. It's not 62 easy. I'm a teenager and there are many things I do not know. My mother always used to tell me to take a book and read it rather than help her. Now I realize how hard it was. I do not know how to cook, but I'm trying to make it all right. It's not easy for them either, I know that. Far from home, away from us, among strangers. It's not easy, because we have never been separated for more than a week and all their love has been directed to us. It was not easy for me when my brother, Costin, just seven years old, a ﬁrst-grade junior, had to leave alone on the ﬁrst day of school, or when my sister, Ana, aged 15, she too, but in the 9th grade, had to go with her aunt

Acum am momente când simt că cedez, simt că nu mai fac faţă, însă eu sunt destul de puternică şi mă gândesc mai mult la cei mici. Nu e uşor. Sunt adolescentă şi sunt multe lucruri pe care nu le ştiu. Mama întotdeauna spunea să iau o carte și să citesc, decât să o ajut pe ea. Acum îmi dau seama cât de greu îi era. Nu ştiu să gătesc, dar mă străduiesc ca totul să ﬁe bine. Nu e uşor nici pentru ei, ştiu asta. Departe de casă, departe de noi, printre străini. Nu e uşor, pentru că nu am stat niciodată despărţiţi mai mult de o săptămână şi toată dragostea lor a fost îndreptată către noi. Nu mi-a fost uşor când frăţiorul meu, Costin, de doar şapte ani, bobocel de clasa întâi a trebuit să plece singur în prima zi de şcoală şi nici când sora mea, Ana, în vârsta de 15 ani, bobocel şi ea,dar în clasa a IX-a, a trebuit să se ducă împreună cu mătuşa

on the ﬁrst day of high school, not with her mother. My luck is that my brothers are very good and obedient. The relationship between us is perfect. We know that we now have each other and we have to support each other. Since my parents left, I have cried only once, one morning when my brother took my arms and said, "Cri, now you are my mother!" And my tears burst. They left for us, to give us a better life. I have supported them and I will continue to support them, because I know how much we love one another and how they work for us. My brothers are under my supervision now. I get help from my aunt, regarding school, and I have no problem. I know what I want from life and homework does not prevent me from getting ready for school classes. I don't want to stay away from my family as my parents do. This is one of the reasons why I ﬁght for my future. I love what I do for my family, I enjoy it because I know I'm strong and I can do it in all situations, just as I advise all young people of my age to do if they are in the same situation. Be strong and do not be discouraged in any circumstance!

în prima zi de liceu, și nu cu mama. Norocul meu este că frăţiorii mei sunt foarte cuminţi și ascultători. Relaţia dintre noi decurge perfect. Ştim că acum ne avem unul pe altul şi trebuie să ne sprijinim reciproc. De când au plecat părinţii noștri, am plâns doar o dată, într-o dimineaţă când frăţiorul meu m-a luat în braţe şi mi-a spus : "Cri, acum tu eşti mama mea!" Şi m-au năpădit lacrimile. Au plecat pentru noi. Să ne ofere un trai mai bun. I-am susţinut şi îi voi susţine în continuare, pentru că ştiu cât de mult ne iubesc şi cât trudesc pentru noi. Fraţii mei au rămas în grija mea. Eu îi ajut cu temele, eu le 63 fac de mâncare. Primesc ajutor și de la mătușa mea, așa că în legătură cu școala, nu am nicio problemă. Știu ce vreau de la viaţă și treaba de acasă nu mă împiedică să mă pregătesc pentru cursurile școlare. Nu vreau să stau departe de familia mea așa cum o fac părinţii mei. Acesta este unul dintre motivele pentru care lupt, pentru viitorul meu. Îmi place ceea ce fac pentru familia mea, o fac cu plăcere, deoarece știu că sunt puternică și mă pot descurca în toate situaţiile, la fel cum îi sfătuiesc pe toţi tinerii de vârsta mea care sunt în aceeași situaţie. Fiţi puternici și nu vă lăsaţi descurajaţi în niciun fel de împrejurare!

Life Story

FROM NADOR TO PALAMÓS: INCLUSION OF THE NEWCOMERS AND INTERCULTURAL TOLERANCE

DE NADOR A PALAMÓS: INCLUSIÓ DELS NOUVINGUTS I TOLERÀNCIA INTERCULTURAL Safae Abouzian Palamós, Catalonia - March 2018

My name is Safae Abouzian. I was born in 1993 in Nador, a berber city in the north of Morocco which belongs to the Rif region. When I was a child, my father emigrated to Spain with the aim of looking for a job and better living conditions. Once he found a job and stabilized his situation in Catalonia, he brought us with him. I was 10 years old when I came here. My family and I lived two years in Olot and then we moved to Palamós, where I studied until batxillerat in the Institut of Palamós. After this period, I continued my studies in the faculty of Medicine of Girona. I lived the inclusion process through successive stages. The ﬁrst step was carried out by the school

Sóc la Safae Abouzian. Vaig néixer al Marroc l'any 1993 a la ciutat de Nador, una bonica ciutat berber del nord que pertany a la regió del Rif. Quan era petita, el meu pare va 65 haver d'emigrar cap a Espanya amb l'objectiu de buscar feina i millors condicions de vida. Quan va trobar feina i va poder estabilitzar la seva situació, ens va poder portar cap a Catalunya per reagrupament familiar. Tenia 10 anys quan vaig venir. Vam viure un parell d'anys a Olot i llavors ens vam traslladar cap a Palamós; on vaig poder estudiar ﬁns al batxillerat a l'Institut de Palamós. Després d’aquesta etapa, vaig seguir els meus estudis a la facultat de Medicina de Girona. El procés d'inclusió el vaig viure per etapes successives. El primer pas el va protagonitzar l'escola.

where I lived and learned things that later helped me to include myself. The language was acquired through a progressive 66 and relatively fast learning process thanks to the help of teachers and the interaction with other children.

A l'escola vaig viure i aprendre coses que després em van ajudar per incloure'm. L'idioma el vaig adquirir mitjançant un procés d'aprenentatge progressiu i relativament ràpid gràcies a l'ajuda dels professors i la interacció amb els altres.

Another part of the inclusion’s process was understanding the new society, its culture, its traditions and its diﬀerences respect where I came from. Despite having a rather introspective character, I made the eﬀort to interact and relate with other people. I discovered a great culture and new ways of thinking that greatly enriched me; without forgetting my own identity and customs. This social part of the process is the one that guarantees the inclusion of the newcomers and the understanding of the values of diversity

L'altre part del procés d'inclusió era entendre la nova societat, la seva cultura i tradició i les diferències que hi veia respecte d'on venia. Malgrat tenir un caràcter força introspectiu, vaig fer l'esforç de interaccionar i relacionar-me. Vaig descobrir una gran cultura i noves maneres de pensar que em van enriquir molt; conservant la identitat i costums propis. Aquesta part més social del procés és la que garanteix la inclusió dels nouvinguts i la comprensió dels valors de diversitat

and intercultural tolerance.

îi tolerància intercultural.

Despite the difficulties and coexistence challenges that I lived in a society that includes people from different countries and cultures, I should say that it is an enriching experience. The inclusion process creates a society that allows different beliefs, thoughts, ways of acting and expressing, in a framework where each citizen knows its rights and duties acting for the common good.

Malgrat les diﬁcultats i els reptes de convivència que es viuen en una societat que inclou persones de diversos orígens, és una experiència molt enriquidora. Aporta noves maneres de pensar les coses, diversitat a la societat i crea joves que malgrat ser diferents en molts aspectes, tots són ciutadans de la mateixa societat assimilant els drets i deures de cadascú i actuant pel bé comú.

Life Story

MY OWN TESTIMONY

Η ΔΙΚΗ ΜΟΥ ΜΑΡΤΥΡΙΑ

Anna Ammohostos, Cyprus - April 2018

Easter 2003 ... 35 years old. But memory does not fade. I remember the basement with the lights oﬀ and the newspapers in the windows, the fear, the hatred for the Turkish invaders ... having to leave Famagusta in 1974 to come back in a few days (so we thought). 35 years old now. With my own family and children. The borders opened for the ﬁrst time since the invasion of 1974. They said that we had to show our identity or passport to go to see our house, the life we lost, the life they stole from us ... Some went from day one. Traitors we called them. But we had to go! My father, a retired teacher from Famagusta, at age 61 was ill with cancer. The end was approaching ... and his wishes an order!

Πάσχα 2003… 35 χρόνων πια. Η μνήμη όμως δεν ξεθωριάζει. Θυμάμαι σαν χτες το υπόγειο με το σβηστό φως και τις εφημερίδες στα παράθυρα, τον 69 φόβο, το μίσος για τους Τούρκους εισβολείς… να φεύγουμε από την Αμμόχωστο το 1974 για να επιστρέψουμε σε λίγες μέρες (έτσι νομίζαμε). 35 χρονών τώρα. Με δική μου οικογένεια και παιδιά. Τα σύνορα άνοιξαν. Έπρεπε λέει να δείξουμε την ταυτότητά μας ή το διαβατήριο για να πάμε να δούμε το σπίτι μας, τη ζωή που χάσαμε, που μας πήραν… Κάποιοι πήγαν από την πρώτη μέρα. Τους είπαν προδότες. Εμείς έπρεπε να πάμε! Ο πατέρας μου, συνταξιούχος δάσκαλος από την Αμμόχωστο, στα 61 του χρόνια ήταν άρρωστος με καρκίνο. Το τέλος πλησίαζε… και τα λόγια του διαταγή!

At the barricade, the queues were endless. My father, anxious and tired of the treatments, did not agree to go back. Finally, we were 70 outside our house in the evening, Propontidos 4, Famagusta. With our hearts tightened… a pain in the chest. We reluctantly knocked on the door. And the door opens. A man stands at the door. He introduces himself... – Halil... he says smiling. He welcomes us in Greek. He is a Turkish Cypriot, a refugee he says and now lives in our home. Refugee? Have the Turks refugees too? We are entering the house. I remember it bigger. I went to my room. Another shock. On the opposite wall a huge red Turkish ﬂag. I cannot say anything. What can I say? It is his son's room now.

Στο οδόφραγμα, οι ουρές ατέλειωτες. Ο πατέρας νευρικός και κουρασμένος από τις θεραπείες, δεν δέχτηκε να γυρίσουμε πίσω. Σε λίγο ήμασταν έξω από το σπίτι μας, βράδυ πια. Προποντίδος 4, Αμμόχωστος. Ένα σφίξιμο στην καρδιά. Ένα πλάκωμα στο στήθος. Κτυπούμε διστακτικά την πόρτα κι η πόρτα ανοίγει. Ένας κύριος στέκεται στην πόρτα. Συστήνεται… – Χαλίλ…λέει χαμογελώντας. Μας καλωσορίζει στα ελληνικά. Είναι Τουρκοκύπριος, πρόσφυγας λέει και ζει τώρα στο σπίτι μας. Πρόσφυγας; Έχουν και οι Τούρκοι πρόσφυγες! Μπαίνουμε μέσα. Το είχα στο μυαλό μου μεγαλύτερο. Προχώρησα στο δωμάτιο μου. Καινούριο σοκ. Στον απέναντι τοίχο μια τεράστια κόκκινη τουρκική σημαία. Δεν λέω τίποτε. Τι μπορώ να πω άλλωστε; Είναι το δωμάτιο του γιου του.

We sit for a while in the living room. He brings us some of our photos that he found at the house. And my father's favorite encyclopedia, 28 whole volumes, which he bought shortly before we left, with deprivation. He promised to come to the non occupied side to bring them to us. The guards would take them if they checked, he said. My heart softened a little. Are there good Turks too? Doubts torture me ... The visit ended there. We had to go back. He said goodbye, and his words are still in my ears…. …"This is not my home here, Mr. Savva. It's yours. I wish there was a solution to go back and live in mine”. A smile and a tear in my father's eyes was enough. He did not manage to go again. Three months later he entered the hospital. Mr. Halil came and visited him. Another shock to my thoughts and beliefs… The Turk came to see him? On August 21, 2003, my father left us forever. The next day, Halil came back to pay his respects. He brought the encyclopedia, the photographs and a box. I looked at him with wonder.

Καθόμαστε για λίγο στο σαλόνι. Μας φέρνει κάποιες φωτογραφίες μας που βρήκε στο σπίτι. Και την αγαπημένη εγκυκλοπαίδεια του πατέρα, 28 ολόκληρους τόμους, που αγόρασε λίγο πριν φύγουμε, με στερήσεις. Υποσχέθηκε να ‘ρθει στις ελεύθερες περιοχές να μας τα φέρει. Θα τα έπαιρναν οι φρουροί στον έλεγχο, είπε. Μαλάκωσε λίγο η καρδιά μου. Άραγε υπάρχουν και καλοί Τούρκοι; Αμφιβολίες με βασανίζουν…Η επίσκεψη τέλειωσε εκεί. Έπρεπε να γυρίσουμε. Μας αποχαιρέτησε και τα λόγια του είναι ακόμα στ’ αυτιά μου. -Αυτό εδώ, κύριε Σάββα, δεν είναι το σπίτι μου. Είναι το δικό σου. 71 Μακάρι να γίνει μια λύση να επιστρέψετε και να πάμε κι εμείς στο δικό μας. Ένα χαμόγελο κι ένα δάκρυ στα μάτια του πατέρα μου ήταν αρκετό. Δεν κατάφερε να ξαναπάει. Τρεις μήνες μετά μπήκε στο νοσοκομείο. Ο κύριος Χαλίλ ήρθε και τον επισκέφθηκε. Άλλο ένα σοκ στις σκέψεις και τα πιστεύω μου. Ο Τούρκος ήρθε να τον δει; Στις 21 του Αυγούστου του 2003, ο πατέρας μου έφυγε για πάντα από κοντά μας. Την επομένη μέρα ήρθε πάλι ο Χαλίλ για να μας συλλυπηθεί. Έφερε την εγκυκλοπαίδεια, τις φωτογραφίες και ένα κουτί. Τον κοίταξα με απορία.

"It's a little soil from your garden, next to the peach tree," he said. “Put it in Mr Savva's grave”. Since that day something changed within me. Before that, I used to say the following because I had to…Now I tell it to my students every year and believe it… People are not to blame. We can live together and create a better future for our children. Halil, a Turkish Cypriot, made me believe it! 72

-Είναι λίγο χώμα από τον κήπο σας, εκεί δίπλα από τη ροδακινιά, είπε. Να το βάλετε στον τάφο του κυρίου Σάββα. Από κείνη τη μέρα κάτι άλλαξε μέσα μου. Πριν το έλεγα γιατί έτσι έπρεπε. Τώρα το λέω κάθε χρόνο στους μαθητές μου και το πιστεύω. Οι άνθρωποι δεν φταίνε. Μπορούμε να ζήσουμε μαζί και να κάνουμε το μέλλον καλύτερο για τα παιδιά μας. Μ’ έκανε να το πιστέψω ένας Τουρκοκύπριος, ο Χαλίλ.

Chios island, where everything started.