Zimnako's Story
Siužetinės Linijos Tekstas
- There is nothing worse than the feeling of injustice. I knew that my family had done nothing wrong, they were simply being who they are, so what’s wrong with that? My name is Zimnako R Jela, and I am a soccer fanatic, who has been placed in jail at nine years old. My family is Kurdish, in a country that is entirely against people of my kind. I don’t know why people are so against us, all I know is that we need to get out of prison. I play soccer to forget about all of the trauma. I picture myself being the next Maradona, effortlessly dribbling the ball, maneuvering past the defense, and striking a goal into the top corner, if only I wasn’t who I was.
- There is nothing worse than the feeling of injustice. I knew that my family had done nothing wrong,
- Living in Iraq, in the middle of Saddam Hussein’s reign, being Kurdish is not exactly the best. My father has been accused of supporting Kurdish freedom fighters, so all of us have ended up in prison. I remember the endless concrete walls and the ever so high barbed wire, I have never felt so trapped. I knew that Father felt guilty, but we all knew that he did nothing wrong. My younger siblings were confused, my younger brother Roj simply had no clue what was going on.
- Zim, are we bad?
- Well, then, why are we in prison?
- One day he came up to me and asked:
- Of course not Roj. Why would you ask that?
- Days passed, and the concrete walls started getting colder and colder. It felt like an eternity, but at last, we were released. We hadn’t been outside in our time served. I forgot what the fresh air smelled like, how bright the sun was and how big the deserts were. We were free of prison, but not of Iraq. We instantly knew we had to flee, the only question now was, where to?
- We had all heard of Australia, everyday people were talking to each other about the place, wishing to visit or even live there. But hardly anyone could ever go because of the exorbitant prices, it was out of our reach, or was it? We had heard of this place called Greece too, we knew we could hire a driver to take us there. It would take all of what little money we had, but would be worth the travel.
- Finally, we were accepted into Greece. I loved the ancient architecture, the grand museums, but especially the soccer games. Locals held games weekly, and kindly accepted anyone into their team. I hadn’t been as good as I was beforehand, but after a week of practice, I was better than ever before. But Australia was still a thought in the back of my head, Mother and Father had jobs now, and were slowly building up their wealth. Maybe we could visit?
- We fled to the Northern Iraqi mountains, hardly anyone lived there, and nobody would care about your ethnicity if you would lend a helping hand with the crops. It was there we were able to finally get out of Iraq, the heavy weight had finally been lifted off of my shoulders.
- The coastline went on and on, the blue horizons seemed to extend to space, the tropical air opened up our nostrils, how much better our lives are. The waves elegantly looped over the shore, the sand nestled between our toes, and as the palm trees swang, the Southern Cross and the Union Jack proudly flew above our heads, oh how much better our lives are.
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