When my siblings and I were growing, we used to follow our mother in the home whatever shell do, especially standing around her in the kitchen for no reason. Our day was defined by feeling the presence of our mother through the noise of dishes she would wash, through the sound of spoon hitting the pan, the sound of opening of the fridge door, the sound of her snoring while sleeping or just her being around. After displacement, our new place which I cant yet call as home is more sophisticated and stylis, but has physical barriers that does not allow open interaction of family members, behind the big closed doors I cant hear what my mother is doing; if she is sleeping or in the kitchen. This inability of feeling the presence of my mother has created a void in my life which I cant describe easily and which may be nothing compared to the displacement of the thousands of people but this void has impacted me in so many ways- making me a different, empty, and bitter person. I look back and I know my life has changed forever, I am a refugee but inside the boundary of the same country- Hina: an Internally Displaced Person.
Posted on: Fri, 20 Jun 2014 00:11:54 +0000
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