Serenity & Agitation. A perfect combination.

I did say I was planning something, right.. ?

Well here it is, I’m planning to make this really long, and I’ve got all the idea’s down.

PROLOGUE;;

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..And they never fulfil their promises.

Have you ever felt as if you’re in a dream, or maybe a nightmare and you can’t just get out of it however hard you try? You probably haven’t. Well, I have… for almost twenty years of my life.

I think I should begin as if I were introducing you to my family, and telling you a bit about and my childhood home. Then go on to where I was supposed to be living – (where we always thought we’d go.)

I live in the slums in Lebanon, I’m Palestinian. I know what you’re going to do – stop reading, or sigh or maybe if you were less ignorant – read my story. Read my journey through hell, mutilation and objectives and maybe feel sympathetic toward me. Or maybe read through my thoughts and start thinking differently?

My home;-

I live with my sister and three brothers in one room. The other room is for my parents and my grandfather. You might think these rooms were big, but no. Each of the rooms is approximately 2.5m by 2m. We could hardly move around. There was no kitchen, no bathroom and definitely no ‘living room’. Home sweet home, eh?

Another hundred families lived like us – in the same place, we were all crowded on top of one another, ‘the once rich Palestinian society living in slums’. My dad and grandfather would have built a house for us, I knew they could, but they’d be killed if they did. The Lebanese government said they were nice enough to accept us as refugees, and we had to appreciate that. We had many restrictions; we couldn’t go to ordinary schools, or even be educated well. My dad and grandfather worked for the Lebanese government in which they had to lift sacks of rice and drive them off to supermarkets. They were always insulted, harassed, and sometimes even shot. But luckily they lived, and what could they do? The Lebanese hated us and we needed education, and the money for school fees to improve our life standards.

Every day me and my sister and two brothers (seeing the third is just one years of age) would walk on foot to school. It was far, and such a long journey to get there (About three miles) and dangerous, as people hated us Palestinians, and attacks were something we got quite often. Although my Dad and grandfather worked all day to supply us with the school fee and money, we went to one of the worst schools in Lebanon; as it’s all we could afford. Every day after that when my Dad and Grandfather would come back from work, we’d all sit in the small passage facing a key fixed on the wall, and my grandfather would tell us about how he once lived in Palestine, the massive house he owned, his great childhood memories, the gardens of roses and the cattle they once had. It was hard to believe, but as I grew up these memories became fixed into my head, they became reality. I believed them so much it was as if I knew the place. I’d only look forward to return to this wonderful home we had. WE HAD THEY KEY AFTER ALL, and one day we’ll return. One day.