When I was 16 years old,
my mum wanted me to get married
or "to be proud of me!"
My dream was to study, work
and become a successful woman.
My father was supporting my studies.
But, my mother just wanted me to get married
and be a successful housewife.
I completed my studies and got a job
in an engineering office just like I always dreamed.
But, when I became "old" from the Syrian society perspective to get married,
my mother kept saying "enough is enough!
You have to accept."
"What is wrong with that man
who proposed to you?"
"He is nice, an engineer like you, successful, rich and handsome!"
So, I had to give in to my mum's pressure.
I accepted his proposal although I was not convinced
about this way of getting married.
We got engaged.
Three months passed, I had no feelings towards him.
I was not in love with him.
So, I decided to break off the engagement.
The decision was very hard because
I had to change my words and challenge my mother,
who did not want me to break up and
she threatened to stop talking to me for a month.
Although I was saddened by this decision,
I knew that it would affect my life.
So, I decided to leave him and
challenged my mother.
Indeed, she stopped talking to me.
I was very sad that she did not accept me.
During that time, I tried convincing her
until she was finally convinced.
Our relation improved despite this gap between us.
Winter
Summer
Darkness
Light
Life is always as simple as these contrasts.
For example, you get a message
one minute before going to a meeting
about an ongoing massacre somewhere in the world.
There are children and women whose rights
are very simply being violated.
You feel the dilemma:
"should I go to the meeting or not?"
Life will go on.
Meetings will go on.
The massacres will continue as well.
It is just a matter of conviction.
We live on hope.
We hope that winter
will be followed by summer.
We hope that night will be followed by day.
We hope that the dictator will leave
and the people will remain.
Poverty
Wealth
War
Peace
My grandmother belongs to one of the
last generations of Danes,
who grew up in a traditional farming community.
She dropped out of school at the 7th grade.
Her family could not afford to pay
a train ticket to the nearest city that had a school.
She did not attend school that often
because she had to work on the farm.
It was a farm by a stream with
cows, horses, cats and chicken.
They brewed beer, salted pickles, and planted seeds.
She had to help with everything.
When I go to visit her in her traditional house
with a view over the fields and forests,
she always asks me
"what are you doing now?
I cannot seem to figure that out!"
I get her point because
I have been studying most of my life -
primary school, middle school, high school,
and university. All sorts of courses.
Art Academy.
When I visit my grandmother,
we always take walks together.
One time in June, whilst walking across a field,
I said "the sound of birds is so nice."
My grandmother replied "it will soon be over!"
I was confused and wondered
"why will it be over?!"
She answered "because after midsummer,
the birds stop singing.
You are lacking some knowledge!"
In January 2016, I moved to Gothenburg
to start a new job.
January is quite tough in Sweden.
It's dark, cold and days are short.
It gets dark at 3 in afternoon.
When I first moved, I was full of enthusiasm
and very happy to start a new job.
But sadly, there was a gap,
which imposed itself on me.
because I had to wait for my residency permit.
I could not even go to work.
I also remember when I fell sick and
I did not have health insurance.
But despite all of this, I was still thankful to God
because I was hearing a lot of stories at that time
about the thousands that were trying to
come to Sweden through the sea
and the thousands of kilometres they had to cross
and walk to get here.
This gap went on for about 3 months
until I got my official residency permit.
Only then, I started to settle down
and I began getting back my enthusiasm to work.
It is not easy to be in a limbo and
feel like you are "suspended in air"!
I have my permit now. And, I have more stability.
But, I will never forget the period
when I first moved to Sweden.
When I was a child, I flew kites with my big brother.
We used to have a lot of fun.
We have a tradition in our home country, Afghanistan,
to fly kites and compete for the prize.
After I left my country and moved to Iran,
I stopped flying kites.
After that, I was forced to leave Iran and move to Turkey.
I did not feel safe in Iran.
And then I moved to Greece and
finally came to Sweden.
Here I feel safe and it is my second home.
One day, my friend asked me
"Can you come and play with me?"
I answered "what do you want to play?"
He said "You will like it and have fun when we play it."
I agreed and asked "Where are we going?"
He answered "We can go to Majorna.
There is a big bridge and we can fly kites!"
We made a kite and flew it.
We flew it up over Älvsborg bridge.
This day was the best day for me.
It reminded me of my home country.
I felt so happy.
There was a gap because I did not fly kites
after I left my home country, Afghanistan.
And when I moved to Sweden,
I flew kites and I revived again these feelings.
My name is Khaled and I love falafel so much.
My friends call me falafel lover.
For 3 years, I have been searching for
a falafel restaurant in Sweden
with the same taste in my memory from Damascus.
I could not find any.
I tried a lot.
Every time, I hear of a restaurant that sells falafel
or even when I smell fried falafel in the street,
I go and try it out.
But, I did not find even once the taste that
exists in my memory
Last year, I was in Berlin.
My Syrian friend invited me to eat falafel.
in Sonnenallee which the Germans call
"Damascus street" nowadays.
He said there is a very good falafel place.
We went as a Syrian group of friends.
I was shocked when
everyone was enjoying the falafel,
saying it tastes like the original Syrian one.
Except for me!
So I felt that the falafel taste in my memory
has become an illusion, unreal.
Every falafel I tasted in Sweden
or elsewhere outside Syria,
does not taste like what I remember.
I felt like there is now
a Falafel Gap in my life!
I realised this gap in my life through falafel.
But, I'm afraid there are other gaps.
My fear is when I return to Damascus
one day and order Falafel,
but will not taste like
it does in my memory.
I have been a rebel my entire life.
Ever since my youth in the 70's
with the left-wing movement,
we wanted to save the whole world and
start a global revolution.
The dreams of that hippies movement
to build a new society and
move to the countryside to live in a collective
did not work out.
When those dreams went to ruins because of
the punk movement's feelings of
meaninglessness and destructiveness,
a creative stand against nuclear power
through street theatre was founded.
Since then, the artistic work
continued on resistance.
Resistance against neo-liberalism.
Resistance against economic market forces.
Resistance against individualistic thinking.
A defence of human dignity, human rights,
the little man (people) and children.
Years passed as I was fighting for society change.
Then suddenly, about 10 years ago,
I discovered that
I had become the "enemy"!
I am white.
I am a man
a Westerner
Heterosexual
Middle class
and finally middle-aged.
Six out of six possible errors.
It could not be worse!
I did not feel like the enemy,
but that is how I was treated.
At first, I was quite annoyed and felt it was unfair,
but then I realised that it has always been so.
People have always been placed in boxes that
they did not choose themselves,
and were then treated with prejudice.
It was just that I did not noticed it,
because I never suffered from it.
I came to Sweden at the end of 2014.
During this period, many gaps appeared in our lives.
Of course, it is normal to have a gap in one's life.
Most of us have a gap between our thoughts and dreams and the reality we are living in.
But, when you become a migrant, the gap is doubled.
On the one hand, we are growing
apart from our native society.
On the other, we are trying to communicate with and integrate into a new society.
During this period, my link to Syria was
the daily phone calls with my daughter back in Syria.
I began to feel nostalgic to Syria.
I would advise my daughter to go out if it felt safe.
She started to feel that I am attached to
the beautiful things in Syria.
So, she surprised me when she came to Sweden -
after the agony of waiting for two years and half for the family reunion -
she offered me a little bottle of water.
She said "I wanted to get you something from Syria.
So I placed a plate on the balcony
and collected rain."
I said "And?"
She said "this is my gift to you. I got you a cloud from Syria."
