Maroon Magazine 2018_266

Charles Town Maroon International Conference Magazine June 2018
How Will Our
Memories Survive?
I am Muhammad Najem.
I am fifteen years old.
I left Ghouta and I now live in Idlib.
I was born in Erbin, in the countryside of Damascus.
I am a child and was living a normal life with my
family.
I have two sisters and three brothers.
I once lived in a nice house. My father worked so hard
to build our house. He was a carpenter and my brothers
were students. My mother is a house wife. She has a
good heart and she is now very afraid of what will
happen to us.
When I was growing up I was naughty. On our way
home from going out I would break free from my
mother’s hand and run into the middle of the street as
cars were driving past. I would always scare my mum
with my behaviour. I love cats and I would always run
and try to catch them.
When I was seven years old I started school. On the
first day I wore the school uniform that my mother had
bought me and went to school. I felt alone and when I
was there I was crying all the time and didn’t want to
go to class. The teachers heard me and the principal
approached me to tell me how wonderful school was,
but I didn’t hear a word of what he said because I
couldn’t stop crying. They told my mother to leave me
and go home. The teacher tried to take me to class but
I hit him and tried to catch up to my mum. However,
by the time the day was over I went home happy and
I waited for the second day of school. I only ended up
going to school for four years.
My older brother loves animals a lot. He loves to take
care of pets but my father didn’t approve in the
Muhammad Najem
beginning. He bought a lovely fish tank with beautiful
fish and my father soon came around. There was a time
when my brother came home and hid something in his
room, he covered it so my father wouldn’t see. Then
we all heard a frightening sound. I went with my father
and my other brothers to see what it was. My brother
was saying: “shut up, please shut up… please.” It was
a small parrot.
My father told my brother to take it out of the house.
Early in the morning the next day when my father was
going off to work he heard the sound of the beautiful
bird. He looked at the parrot and listened to its
beautiful voice. My father fell in love immediately.
Everyday he taught the bird many new words. My
father and I would always prepare its food before he
went off to work. I was so happy. Everyone in the
family loved it.
When the parrot initially learned to talk the first word
it said was “Allah.” When I heard that I told my father
and we were all standing around it like children
waiting for it to say the word again. My father took the
bird with him to work so that it could imitate the
sounds of cats and other birds.
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