Returning to a Place Special to You Essay

Published: 2020-04-22 08:25:15
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Have you ever returned to place and asked yourself Boy I miss those days ! We all return to a place that holds many memoires, good or bad. For every person, some places hold great importance in their lives. A special place that is really important to me is my home country, Somalia. Somalia, most notably, Kismayo, is my birthplace and a place that I hold dearly in my heart. So many childhood memories of me and my family occurred in kismayo. All of my brothers, including myself, were all born in Kismayo. My mother and father met and married in the same neighborhood we live in.

Family is of major significance to me, and living near many uncles, aunts, and cousins was a great experience. Returning to my birthplace was always a dream of mine. As a child, returning to my birthplace was all I thought about. I left Kismayo at the tender age of 10. A civil war broke out in Somalia in 1991, three years before my birth. The war destroyed and demoralized many families in Somalia. My family was fortunate enough to escape unscathed during this horrible and gruesome civil war. My mom and dad, along with my brothers, relocated to Kenya in exile, hoping one day to return to the place we knew before the civil war.

My family returned mid-1994, and find life in kismayo very challenging. My mother gave birth to me during this year. I remember the stories my mother use to tell me about our return to Somalia and the troubles and hardships we faced upon our return. Reminiscing about my childhood, I remember the neighborhood we lived in and the daily activities I took part in. We lived in a small two room house, which at the time was large enough for are family. We lived near many of our relatives and we visited each other every day. Family is a big part of the Somali culture, and living near one another ensured a close bond with one another.

Religion is perhaps the biggest value in Somali culture. I remember running up the dusty hills along with my father and brothers to perform prayer at the local mosque. We would take the same path to the mosque five times a day to perform the five mandatory prayers. Another significant value I loved was language. Every Somali shared the same language, but there are some minor regional differences. I remember enjoying the comfort of my friends and cousins after school; we would often joke with one another. We walked up hills and dirt roads for 40 minutes to school, which was an old brick house.

We were taught English and math, and most of the time was devoted to religious studies. Food is another value in our culture, the common meal in our household was oatmeal and rice. I remember eating those two meals nearly every day, which at the time was a luxury because of the state of the country. During our leisure time, we would often play soccer in a dirt field, which was better than nothing. Even though we lived in poverty, our homeland was very important to us and it was all we ever knew. Everything changed once we moved to the United States during the summer of 2003. As an adult, I have lived in the United States for nearly 9 years.

We came to Minnesota from the advice of our Uncle, who traveled here alone to settle down and eventually take us in. Coming to the United States was a big technological and cultural shock. The technology all around was advanced and we never seen such a sight. The buildings were humungous and exquisite, vehicles of all kinds roamed the streets like a herd of animals, and so many different ethnicities and cultures integrated into one country. The luxury of electricity to light your house, clean running water from your sink, and eating foods other than rice and oatmeal was surreal.

Eventually, my family and I settled in and after approximately 10 years I returned to my homeland. Returning was a special and troubling moment. The neighborhood we once lived in has not changed since the war. Most of Somalia is still underdeveloped and many live in extreme poverty. We once lived in these conditions and my mother always reminds us of where we came from and the conditions we once lived in. Many of my family members relocated to the United States, but some stayed preserving the way of life the always knew. It was rewarding seeing them after so many years; I left a child and returned as a man.

Almost nothing changed and I was somewhat elated to see my homeland, and saddened by the lack of progress made to better the lives of the ones living in poverty. In the end, returning to my homeland taught me a life lesson. Even though it was some time ago, I fondly remember the conditions we lived in and it has made me more appreciative for what I have today. Aside from the difficult moments, Ive many extraordinary childhood memories from my childhood. Returning to my homeland fulfilled a lifelong dream of mine. I will always look back at those memories with great pride and joy.

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