A moment that changed me: I arrived in London as a child refugee — and discovered a strange new world
The city sometimes felt achingly lonely. But after seeing my first escalator, trying salt and vinegar crisps and watching an East 17 video on repeat, I began to find my wayA few days after Christmas 1994, aged 10, I arrived in London as a refugee from Somalia. At Heathrow airport, I stood staring in awe at the escalators. I had heard about these “walking machines” from an elderly Somali woman in Addis Ababa who sat on a corner selling sweets, biscuits and cold Fanta in glass bottles. She had painted a picture of London, a city she had never been to, as a place of wonders.“You won’t need to use your legs to walk there – they have machines that move for you,” she said. My eyes bulged with excitement. I had never seen such machines on the streets of Addis Ababa. In my area, Bole Mikael, there were no pavements, just puddles of dirty water. Continue reading...
The city sometimes felt achingly lonely. But after seeing my first escalator, trying salt and vinegar crisps and watching an East 17 video on repeat, I began to find my way
A few days after Christmas 1994, aged 10, I arrived in London as a refugee from Somalia. At Heathrow airport, I stood staring in awe at the escalators. I had heard about these “walking machines” from an elderly Somali woman in Addis Ababa who sat on a corner selling sweets, biscuits and cold Fanta in glass bottles. She had painted a picture of London, a city she had never been to, as a place of wonders.
“You won’t need to use your legs to walk there – they have machines that move for you,” she said. My eyes bulged with excitement. I had never seen such machines on the streets of Addis Ababa. In my area, Bole Mikael, there were no pavements, just puddles of dirty water. Continue reading...
