Jason Lam

Ms. Pahomov

English 3

5 January 2018

I like to think of myself as bright, smart, funny, a video gamer, a procrastinator, friendly, optimistic, resourceful, curious, accident prone, slow, organized, and independent. Being independent in life without the support or help of others is a big stepping stone for me. As a visually impaired person, I need help and support from my family, teachers, and supervisors. Of course now that I’m now a lot older than I was when I first became visually impaired, I am more capable of doing things and doing them by myself, but I’m lagging behind where I really should be on my independency. I was very lucky to grow up in a pretty big family where the adults did everything from mopping the floor, laundry, to cooking, and cleaning the bathroom. My brother and I didn’t really do any type of chore during our early childhood so we weren’t all that experienced in everyday chores. I’m not saying we didn’t do any chore or helped at all, but we weren’t really required to do them. Since I’ve been lucky to have others doing things for me, it was a hard transition from having people doing everything for me to being independent and doing things myself. One thing that comes with being independent is trust, specifically parent trust. My parents are not the most outgoing parents. They are caring and supportive to me. They are also very protective, maybe overprotective. One thing I wanted to change this year, for school, was transportation.

(Our conversation was in Chinese, so here is what it basically translates too)

“Mommy?” I asked.

She was looking at her ipad, and sitting on the floor. She replied, “Hmmm?”

I looked at her and said,“Why can’t I go on the subway to school?”

“There is no why.” she plainly said. She still kept looking at her ipad.

I grew annoyed with her reply. She always says this whenever I ask her why questions on a subject she doesn’t want to argue about or go into because she thinks it’s a waste of her breath. Tonight’s subject was about my change in transportation I made with my braille teacher/supervisor.

So I said, “Yes why!” “Why don’t you want me to go to school by myself?”

She finally looked up and said in a pretty calm yet bold voice, “We’ve had this conversation already. I don’t want you to take the subway to school because no one can watch you. Besides, when it gets cold in winter, there will be snow and ice that you will have to pull your school bag through, and you can slip and fall on the ice. Also, you have to wake up earlier to catch the subway, and it is more convenient and better for you to take the taxi to school.”

Even though she did make some good arguments, I still argued back with her. “But I can handle the cold, and I haven’t slipped on ice once in my entire life yet.”

“That doesn’t mean it won’t happen.” she rebuttled.

I looked at her with growing anger. I’ve always hated that I never got to do what I wanted to do. Yeah, sure, some people might consider a taxi as a luxury to a walk or SEPTA ride to and from school, but it’s really not.  

I said ”But the taxi is really terrible! The driver speeds, calls on the phone while he’s driving, curses and shouts at drivers that drive too slow for him, crosses red lights, and when it picks me up from school, it’s late.

I remember the time during my freshman year when I was waiting for the taxi, but it was late for some pathetic reason. I had waited for over 40 minutes for it when I decided to leave and head to my mother’s salon which was nearby. Boy was everyone annoyed with me.

“How come?” she questioned.

“I don’t like it when I hate to wait for the taxi because they’re late. They even lie about why they’re late too!” Unbelievably, the driver does lie about why he’s late. Once, I overheard him talking to a client on the phone about why he was late to pick them up.

“I’m sorry, traffic is just so bad.”

He said this as he was driving through an empty street! He wasn’t late because of traffic, he was late because he wasbiting off more than he could chew! He had so many clients that he couldn’t keep up with his schedule and just blames innocent traffic for his lateness. That’s why I don’t believe a word he says about why he’s late, he’s taking more clients than he can handle.

“That was just an honest mistake. Besides, you need to be more patient, son.” she said.

Be more patient? Is she kidding me? Would anyone wait for a taxi that is almost an hour late? Tell me if that is being impatient! I waited over 40 minutes before I decided to leave.

“He’s also driving me to school late now.”

“ Did you tell the office that you were late because it was the taxi?”

“I did, but I can’t keep on saying that!”

“Why not? If you’re late because of the taxi, then you got to tell them it was the taxi’s fault you were late and not you. “

“Ugh. I don’t think my teachers will keep on doing this for me every single day.”

She looked up at me and just gave me an expression that said all too clearly that she wasn’t going to change her mind no matter what excuse I told her.

So that was an unpleasant conversation I had with my mother a while back.

Still up to this day, I have SEPTA as my transportation to and from school and not the taxi. I’m not regretting my choice to switch even though it is pretty frigid and slippery outside, but sometimes and definitely before I switched, I did vacillate whether I made the right choice. Being independent is a hard thing for me even though I’m older now. Always having help and support at my fingertips was as regular as it could be. Of course, I’m not saying I’m ungrateful, in fact I’m actually happy that I had an easier childhood than most other kids in a responsibility sense. But on the downside to becoming an adult, I became really dependent on others helping me. I guess it’s never bad to ask for a lot of help, but is there a such thing as asking for too much help? Sometimes I do feel that way. I feel that sometimes when I ask questions or for help too much. It makes me feel guilty inside. It is a goal for me to be capable and confident of myself to do things that would otherwise require me to seek help.

YES, I know, it’s never a bad thing to ask for help, but it’s also never bad to do things yourself!

https://www.wevideo.com/view/1050040659

I tried to walk, but I couldn’t move. My arms and legs froze. I couldn’t feel anything. Thoughts racing through my head. I tried to breathe. Nothing came. I tried again. And again. The air slowly eased its way into my lungs. My body started to slowly come back. My mind as well.

Then I was aware of where I was, standing in the middle of the hallway. Supposed to be on my way to my 9th grade History. What had just happened? I felt my entire life flash before my eyes. I continued walking down the hall until I made it to my seat. I inched my head onto the desk. In that moment I couldn’t stand. My body was weak and tired. My legs shook. What just happened?

Eventually, I came to understand that I had an anxiety attack. Not my finest moment. Didn’t realize what it was  until I was told by my parents weeks later. My whole life got to my head. School, family, friends. Everything. Everyone always says the things you care about the most will hurt you. To be specific, what affected me so much was the constant changes in my daily life. In school I would be on track one minute, then the next I would miss a major assignment. Family is just too complicated to keep up with. Friends’ drama makes me want to never talk to them again. I wonder what it would be like to leave all those things behind. Throw it all away, and focus on myself. All of these things try to define me, and determine what I am supposed to be. How do they know who I am supposed to be if I don’t even know who that is?

Determining who I am is extremely important. I feel hellish heats roll over me when someone tries to tell me who I am, and tries to show me who I should be. Nitpick at me like some kind of play doll. Well guess what buddy, I’m not. This is my life. No one else's.

I remember sitting there. Hearing the loud voices in my ears. Not knowing what they were saying. Not realizing who was saying what. Until I found myself sitting in my bed regretting everything. Slamming my hand back and forth. Making little dents on my wall. Thinking about what just happened over and over again. I need to get my life together? What is wrong with me? My life? I am really that bad of a son? That bad of a person? Who are you to tell me any of that? Who is anyone to tell me? I am who I am. Deal with it. Instead of trying to improve myself for later, I just make it worse by resenting everyone and everything..

Everything may seem fairly confusing. I know it may not be making a lot of sense. Trust me, sometimes it doesn’t make sense to me. It’s hard to walk through life not knowing who you are, what you are going to do, and how you are supposed to turn out. It really doesn't help when you have everyone around telling you who you are, what you are going to do, and how you are supposed to turn out. They have to make it as difficult as possible for you to make a decision for yourself. What if I don’t want to do what you tell me to? What if I want to do my own thing?

They say because you care about them you have to stand down and listen to them. I can’t just do that.

I couldn’t do that for anyone. Including my friend from middle school. He wanted me do what he told me, and I had to be who he wanted me to be. Except he moved away. When he left. I didn’t know what to do. I worshipped him. He was like a brother to me. I fell apart at first. Didn’t think I’d ever have another friend again. I tried to talk to him as much as I possibly could. Fell into a rut in the process. I didn’t talk to anyone else. Didn’t socialize. My friend ruined my life.

Eventually I had to move past the fact that he moved to the other side of the country. At this point I was completely introverted, and didn’t see the point. I was ready to live out the rest of my life like this. Until I found a new group of friends. Kids that didn’t care who I was. Guys that will treat like an equal. So, I stayed in that friend group. We hang out everyday. I noticed a significant change in myself. I wasn’t afraid to do what I wanted to do. Didn’t have to listen to my friends. It was all me.

The summer before 10th grade my old friend came to visit, and check in. He came over and we hung out for a while. Did some stuff we used to do. He seemed to have changed. He was a kinder person than he was before. I was happy for him. I had the feeling that he found what he was looking for in life. Just wish I could do the same.

The last day he was here, we took a walk to his old house. The air was warm, and sweat poured down my face. We walked for hours. Until finally he was picked up by his parents because he had to catch his plane. We said our goodbyes. It was funny actually. The last thing he said to me made me laugh. He said, “Lose my number, I don’t like the person you’ve become”. The engine of the car slowly turned out, and drove away. Blowing all the dust in my face. I stood there. Couldn’t feel my legs, my arms were motionless. My breath slowly came out. All of a sudden I started to laugh. I couldn’t stop. I fell to the ground. What had just happened? I remember thinking that after almost three years of growth, I still am being told what I am doing wrong. People telling me who I am supposed to be. I thought my friend had changed. Had grown into a new and better person, just like I had.

Nowadays. I couldn’t care less about that kid. Don’t even consider him a friend. I haven’t spoken to him in a good year. I get the occasional text from him asking how I am, but I never reply. Friends and Family are an important element of finding who I am supposed to be. However, their job is to support me. They shouldn’t judge me. Family and friends will almost always be there, but if they cannot stand back and let me choose then I don’t want them there.

I have no clue who I wanna be. The kinda person I want to grow into or the kind of life I want to pursue. Just because I don’t know doesn’t mean it should be handed to me. If you don’t like how I act or talk then don’t talk to me. Or like my old friend, move all the way across the country. Doesn’t matter who I am as long as I’m the person I was meant to be.

The clock strikes a minute after midnight. January 1st 2016. As the music from my parents annual party blast from the floor under me.  I stick my head out the window and inhale the fresh 2016 air. It’s cold and stings my skin but I don’t care. I hear a knock on my bedroom door,

“Come back down and get something to eat before I eat it all.” says my little sister before I hear her running back down the steps. Before I go, I turn off all my lights and get down on my knees to  pray,

“Heavenly father please make these 6 months go by fast so I never have to be in this horrible school again. These last 4 months were the worst months of my life. Thank you for sending my abusers away forever. Amen.” I finished my prayer and walk back downstairs to the party. It’s bright with life.   Relatives catching up by the silver fireplace. Family friends sip on Merlot and rock their body´s to the slow beating music. My parents are in their own world because this day 22 years ago was the day they made their love official.

“Happy anniversary babe.” My dad says, kissing my mom intensely. She replies “Happy anniversary Dave, 22 years down , a lifetime to go.” They kiss again. I watch the setting and become unusually happy. I come back to my daunting reality and realize less than 72 hours from now i'll be back in the place that caused me more pain then a lifetime.  A dark cloud parks himself on top of my head. They may be gone but their souls, words, and actions will always linger in the halls. The rest of the night is a blur and when it's almost over the last dance of all the couples begin.  As their wedding song comes to an end so does the party

“What are you doing New Years? New Years Eve.”

3 days later I’m back in the hallways of building 21 scared lonely and anxious. I don’t go to class because I know  I won’t learn anything and don’t want to be subjected to the verbal abuse. I need to be a quiet spot.  I walk down the hallway eyes on the floor at all times. The observers talk about the events that transcended. They will not forget. I can feel my peers burning their eyes into me. They see right through me.

“I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.” a muttered voice says.  I finally exhale, someone sympathizes me.

“That bitch deserved it. She’s dumb as fuck. Next time instead of letting her fake ass friends pipe her head up she shoulda walked away. She bout it but she ain’t bout it.” They both laugh. I keep walking and finally find a quiet enclosed place. My emotions are so mixed up and confused and so I begin to write. Writing has always been my source of tranquility, my escape from whichever sad predicament I face at that moment. It helps me think but sometimes I drown in my thoughts. My “friends” told me to be tough or I couldn’t hang with them. So I was tough.  I remember that day exactly.  My friend and i were sitting at a hallway table doing our homework. Suddenly Gina appeared,giving both my friend and I the evil eye. I look at her and remember when we first best friends.How did we get here?

“Do you want to fight?” I asked sitting up straight in my seat.  

“Tai if she touches you Imma fuck her up” my friend says looking back down at her phone carelessly. Gina laughs.

“You won’t do anything , we can fight after school” she states, rolling her eyes and storming away. My friend and I both laugh, because in remembrance the last time Gina fought someone she lost without even thinking about.  Later that day, school is out and Gina & I are fighting. Kids circle around us, recording laughing and yelling. How did I get here? We keep fighting and I win. Suddenly , her aunts appear and they all decide to fight me at once. All of them well beyond 20 years of age. Where were my friends now? I look and see they’re sitting down on some person’s step observing. Then it was over. I left with a migraine and temporary blindness in my right eye. Later on that night, I lay in my wooden bed and drown in my endless thoughts.

“Why did  I fight her? I don’t even like to fight. In times of need why didn’t the people who I worshipped and thought would be there for me weren’t?” I only fought that girl because that's what my friends told me to do. A year before that I would never really fight anyone because I thought it was unnecessary but the people who I was friends with last year never wanted to fight. That's when I realized that the transition from going to middle school to high school didn’t just change physically. But the people, settings and feelings did. Around my middle school friends fighting was not a thing. We were having too much fun to be fighting but when I got around different people in high school all they cared about was fighting. They loved it, they gained a high off of it. Watching two people fight for no apparent reason. Or in my case fighting multiple people at once. I knew some things had to change. Not them but me.

“You can’t sit here, go find a empty classroom to sit in ma’am.” Says a hallway monitor. I come back to reality. As I grab my stuff and leave the small corner area I was sitting in trying to avoid any human interaction. I realize the change I speak of is already happening.  I isolated myself from everyone. I ignore everything whether its positive and negative. It's wonderful. The remainder of the 6 months until Im gone from that place goes by slowly at first, because I’m not used to isolation and being quiet all the time. Friendless and alone wasn’t me but then overtime it was. It felt good. Observing everyone else’s unnecessary drama unfold and it was unfolding what seemed like every day. As the year comes to an end and I regained happiness and anticipation that I will never have to step back into building 21 again.  

In the late spring of 2011, my siblings, my mother, and I all moved to Al-Khartoum, the capital of the Sudan. Both my parents decided it would be best for them to have a divorce, completely forgetting about the impact it would have on my siblings and I. We were already going to the Sudan for the summer and they insulted my knowledge and said that we have to go now since there aren’t anymore tickets available in June and the tickets would also be a lot cheaper.

I played along even though I was already fully aware of the situation. I already knew my parents were going to get divorced but I was always scared of my dad so I had no choice but to play along and act stupid and unaware of what’s going on, especially when it comes to grown-up stuff. So we landed in the Sudan and everything seemed very normal when we came in contact with the family whom I haven’t seen in 2 years. Everyone was happy to see us, my grandmothers, and aunts showered me with kisses, they carried our luggage to the car, and of course, asked us how we were. Like every other time they see us.

About one month later I started attending Al-Mughtaribeen school, which means the school of the Expatriates. A school where almost every student is Sudanese from a country outside of the Sudan. At that time I didn’t know that much Arabic. But after 2 months in that school, I’ve learned to read and speak Arabic fluently and that’s when I started loving Sudan. I became very interested in the Sudanese culture and history.

I’ve always loved the kind Sudanese people and loved them more and more by the second. The Sudan has over 200 different ethnic groups all over the country and Khartoum is the city where these people from different parts of Sudan come to because it’s a tourist spot and a modernized city, the new world basically. My ethnic group is called the Shawayga, so I’d be a shaygy. Shawayga are from northern Sudan and carry on the bloodline of the original Sudanese, Nubians. There are over 50 different tribes today in the Northern state of Sudan, Al Shamaliya. Every part of Sudan excluding Khartoum belongs to the ethnic group and each land has many different cities which are the territories belonging to the ethnic groups’ leader or nubian prince/princess. I am a shaygy from Al-Barkal, which was one of the greatest parts of Sudan, known for its pyramids, nubian temples, and the great mountain of Al-Barkal. Both my parents are from there but my father was in Khartoum since he was a toddler after his father moved to khartoum to find a better job.

Because of our heritage, I visit Al-barkal almost every holiday and break. I stay with mother’s family and I enjoy it very much since everyone in the village is family and everyone is kind, caring, and amusingly funny. But there is one exception. Many lands in the Northern state of Sudan, Al-Shamaliya is filled with Syrian, and Egyptian refugees which we call Halab.

In Al-Barkal, the elders of the village decided to allow them to stay in our village and built many homes for them to live in but they were all built in the very end of the village to help avoid any problems.

After a while, the halab have gained the trust of the shawayga of Al-barkal and the elders allowed them to start buying crop lands to grow their food and leave their farm animals there. After some time passed, many reports of stolen crops and farm animals, such as chickens, and sheep have arised. The elders then decided to have night watchers all over the farmlands to catch and make sure it was the halab.

The first night was a success. 4 halab tennegaers all around the age of 16 were caught. They were brought to the Barkal Conferences’ room building-similar to a Cubical building, and all the elders and men who are involved with these type of situations were called to the conference room and the matter was handled then and there.

After that incident, the people of the Village were raged with anger and disgust and there have been many fights and arguments between the halab and the shawayga have raised. Within one week, 50 reports have been made. This caused a lot disturbance and stress to the people of the village. One day, 4 men proposed to the elders of the village to allow them to assassinate all the people of the halab. There was a little discussing between the elders but they came to a final decision to not allow that to happen because that was not the way the people of Barkal handle things and murder is against the religion of Islam which the people of Al-Barka followed. They decided to have a meeting with all the adults of the halab and then peace between the two has achieved through peaceful negotiation and this was the way the people of the Barkal handled things.

I visited the summer after I first moved to Sudan, which was also 20 years after the peace between the halab and the shawayga was agreed on. I stayed there for all of Ramadan and another 2 weeks after. 3 days after Eid-Al Fitr, my cousins who lived in Al-barkal all went to school along with the other villagers in school. The village was quiet in the daytime like always.

Me and four of my cousins who were also expatriates- two from Dubai in the UAE, Mustafa (13) and Adam (15), one from London, Ali (14) and the other from Qatar, Ismael (13)- decided to go the Nile river for a swim. We all put on our swimming shorts and took out the horses that our friendly neighbor who is also family told us to take if we wanted to go somewhere.

We raced on the long road between the beautiful fields of mango trees, guava trees, and date palms to the very end before the sharp left turn to Karima, a big city 15 minutes away from Al-Barkal. We rode our horses slowly on the small pathways of sand between the plants and trees heading towards the river, and out of nowhere my older cousin Adam stopped.

“Did anyone hear something?” he asked us.

“Shut up! You didn’t hear anything, you’re just trying to scare us.” Ismael yelled.

We laughed and continued moving forward slowly towards the river. When we arrived, We all dived straight into the water but Adam and Ali went to go tie the horses. A couple minutes after they left, as my cousins and I were swimming and enjoying the cool water in the burning sun. 3 halab teenagers the ages of 19 and 18, started throwing rocks near us in the water, making us backup deeper and deeper. We seen them wearing green stained thobes and each were holding long, sharp sickles in their hands. We all got scared because we were moving towards the middle of the Nile river where the water was running towards Egypt at a speed over 25 miles per hour. If we were to end up there it would’ve been over for us. We were all short and skinny anyway which would’ve got us swept away even easier. We dived into the water and started swimming as fast as we could to the land but they were persistent.

They kept throwing rocks and boom Mustafa was hit with a huge rock right to the head, and fainted. He started floating on the water and we all swam to rescue him. He was a couple feet away from guaranteed death.

I thought it was over. I started to think of how life would be if he were gone.We were too far out. There was nothing we could’ve done. My cousin Ismael started to cry as he swam persistently to save Mustafa and out of nowhere Ali, who was an extraordinary swimmer dived into the water from the cliff and and lifted Mustafa from beneath. Adam, who was the oldest and strongest out of us hit two of the halab in the back of their heads with two giant bricks knocking them both down.

“I knew someone was tailing us from earlier but why? Why are you doing this? These are little kids. What could you have possibly been thinking?” Adam asked raged with anger.

We started swimming to the land as we helped Ali take Mustafa to land. We got to land and Adam told Ali to go bring all of the horses to that very spot we were at. He gave him one of the halab’s sickle.

“We know about the staff at Al-barkal Elementary and Middle School teach to the kids. They tell you all these lies and rumors about us halab so guys could hates us then decide to kick us all out. We have nowhere to go and our parents and other adults can't do anything because of the peace treaty, so we’ll do something.” the halabi man said.

“Listen we’re here for vacation we don’t even go to school here.We don’t even live here. And even if we did, this is not something anyone should do. The people of this village allowed you to live here in our land and allowed you to buy farm land properties, and the point of that treaty was to achieve peace at last. Everything is finally peaceful here in this village but what you’re doing is the complete opposite.” Adam yelled.

“There can’t be peace here if there is still discrimination and racism towards us halab. This is the only place we can live in in peace...or that’s what we thought at least.” said the tall halabi guy.

“Why are you still talking to him Adam? He’s talking out his ass. We came here to swim, and he’s over here talking about some other shit.” I yelled.

“Yeah seriously, just drop him dead already.”  Ismael agreed.

Ali finally arrived with all 5 horses. Adam punched the halabi man then Ismael and I ran to assist him in the fight. He ran. The two who were dropped by Adam were still knocked out laying down on the hot burning orange sand. Ali and Adam tied the two halabis up and carried them on their backs. We got on our horses and went to our grandfather. He was one of the elders of the village. We told him everything that happened and he conducted a meeting right away.

“Ok. I’ll take care of this. Go eat.” he said as he handed me a $20 bill. “Pass me my             cane. Adam drop me off there. We’ll take your uncle Asaad's car.”

My cousins and I went to the shawarma restaurant which was a block away from the house. My cousin was fine as were eating and chilling in the restaurant. We enjoyed each other's company while we were chewing on fries and shawarma sandwiches. We left the restaurant to go to the house. As we walked in we ran into my grandfather if he was ok. My grandfather we assured us the situation was handled.

In that moment, I realized that my grandfather's words would haunt me for the rest of my life. He had said “You children shouldn’t worry about adult issues of enemies and finding peace. If finding peace happens it won’t happen now.” Whether my grandfather knew it or not our enemies weren’t into peace and neither were we looking forward to it. The relationship between the self and the changing world is that there can’t be a world of peace if the people of this world can’t reach peace within themselves. In today's world peace is always the best answer, but in reality, peace can never be found.