Twin Ambitions - My Autobiography Read Online Free Page B

Had to deal with a lot too: moving from country to country, being separated from my dad, having to adapt to a different culture. My mum used to repeatedly tell me, ‘In life, make sure that you adapt to whatever you do.’
    I managed to adapt. Some people aren’t so lucky. They grow up with too much, too soon, so when they really need to work hard towards a goal, the motivation isn’t there. They can’t live without certain comforts. They can’t adapt. Me, I never had that problem.
    Some time after our arrival in Djibouti, Grandma Amina’s daughter, our aunt Nimco (pronounced ‘nee-mo’ – the ‘c’ is silent) won a scholarship to study at university in Almelo, a city in the Netherlands. She used to send Grandma letters and pictures of her new life in Europe. I couldn’t believe how different everything looked – the neatly paved streets and grey skies and old church buildings. I started thinking to myself, ‘Wow! There’s this whole other world out there.’
    After our grandfather passed away, Grandma decided that she wanted to move to the Netherlands to live with Aunt Nimco and build a new life for herself. I suppose she felt there was nothing left for her in Djibouti after Grandad died. There was Hassan and me, of course, and her other relatives, but Aunt Nimco was her daughter. I was upset.I loved my mum, but Grandma had been the one who’d looked after Hassan and me for most of the time we’d been in Djibouti. I was closer to her than anybody except Hassan. After she left I told myself, ‘I have to find a way of getting to Holland to live with
Ayeeyo
.’ I just couldn’t imagine a life without Grandma. My mind was made up: I wanted to move to Almelo. I would build a new life there. And Hassan would come with me.
    My wish seemed to come true when Mum took me aside one evening after Grandma had moved to Almelo, looked me hard in the eye and explained that we would soon be leaving Djibouti as well. Like Grandma, we were moving to Europe to begin a new life. I wasn’t upset to leave Djibouti. I was just excited. As I understood it, we’d all be going to live with Grandma in the Netherlands. Mum added that first we had to go and visit my dad in London. I thought she meant we’d be staying with our dad for just a few days. I didn’t really give any thought to the implications of moving to Europe – having to learn a new language, making new friends. I was too young to understand all that. I simply wanted to be close to Grandma. Whatever it took to be by her side again, I was willing to do it. I couldn’t wait.
    Much has been written about the circumstances which led to me and Hassan being separated for the best part of twelve years. The truth is this: the original plan was for all of us to travel to England as a family. But shortly before we were due to fly, Hassan fell ill which meant he wasn’t able to fly. We couldn’t cancel or change our flights because there were five of us booked on that plane and that would have meant losing an awful lot of money. As a short-term solution it was decided that me, my mum, Ahmed and Wahib would fly to London as originally planned, with Hassan remaining with our extended family in Djibouti. The plan was always to go back and get Hassan a couple of months down the line, after the rest of us had settled down. Of course, I didn’t like the idea of being separated from Hassan even for a short period of time. We’d been inseparable from the day we were born. Everything we experienced, we had experienced together. I was consoled by the fact that we wouldn’t be away from each other for very long – a couple of months perhaps. Then we’d be back together. Had I known how many years would pass before I’d see him again, I would have been heartbroken. But as far as I knew, Hassan falling ill was a temporary hitch; eventually we’d all be living together as a happy family. My parents, my grandma, me, Hassan and my other brothers.
    At least, that’s what I