Alone again.
Yesterday his youngest son had married.
His son belonged but Muhammad had been too preoccupied with family to grow his own roots. His suburban apartment echoed with Yasmin’s burial.
“This isn’t home.”, he lamented into air.
He prepared a cup of mint tea and let its fumes carry him to the Bazaar helping his father selling carpets.
Before he had to grow a beard and swear allegiance to their black flags.
Before he sneaked away at night.
Before the blisters.
Before the night at sea.
Loneliness will clear the cobwebs to the past and open up your wounds.
The first thing I thought about when seeing the picture was the old idiom/proverb “to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes”, and I thought about how refugees keep coming and imagine a future of an old man who once escaped. I imagine that you might feel at home in a new country when you have a family to support. But the moment when you are all alone I imagine you will feel uprooted again. I’m sure that this is what many immigrants have felt and will continue to feel in years to come.
Rochelle hosts the Friday Fictioeers and selects the image. Be sure to visit her blogs and be inspired. The community as such is one where you can tune your writing and find inspiration from others.
A movie and music to get in the mood.
September 20, 2017
Björn Rudbergs writings 
What a bold and striking story, Bjorn! I’m not sure 100 words can do justice to your concept, but it certainly works and made me think
Thank you, I agree, it’s a life’s story told in very few words. Maybe it’s easier if you sit in Sweden and meet the refugees every day…
Dear Björn,
Poor Mohammed. He was so busy making a living, he forgot to live. Well done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
This is exactly how I think that many first generation immigrants would feel at the end of the road.
I think in a few years from now this will become a common story for those millions fleeing just now. Interesting new perspective on the ongoing tragedy.
It will be… and with their children rooted here they will be divided (as a matter of fact it has happened for generations of earlier refugees)
How truly terrific , Bjorn !
Loved your story .
One feels uprooted in one’s own country with a minor transition from countryside to cities, countries must take more than a lifetime, for sure . It’s so difficult to go on when you don’t feel belongingness and yet it’s not something one can force into themselves.
Thank you.. I have never gone through it so I had to imagine how it would feel (hence walk in someone else’s shoes)
A wonderful, if tragic idea – the emigrant feeling uprooted at the deaths of his family. Very well tol Bjorn
I think it would work like this… it’s when you are alone that you feel the loss of roots.
Yes, because those you love are part of your roots, tethering you down. Once they’re gone …
This is a situation we rarely think about, yet I’m it will become more common. A truly thought-provoking piece.
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I’m pretty sure I would feel like this if I was left alone in a strange place.
An interesting perspective on a very relevant issue. Well done.
If we could understand the perspective of a refugee or an immigrant we would learn to know ourselves better too.
This story echoes with tragedy, and sadness, and building frustration. A great (and successful) attempt at a different writing style. Congrats, Bjorn.
Thank you, I find that this community is very welcoming to experiment in writing style and subject.
I’d never looked at the refugees from this perspective. I’m glad you did. Nicely done, Bjorn.
I think it would be how I would feel myself… but of course I have read interviews and so on.
Nostalgia for his lost homeland suffuses this story like the fumes of mint tea in Muhammad’s apartment. I love the way you use each of the senses – sound, smell, sight and touch – in a way that emphasises the loneliness and hardship that he has endured, and is still enduring.
I think scent is always the one who bring back memories the best… second would be sound….
I thought this was a brilliant creation. (all the brief moments coming back)
Thank you… it’s hard to tell a story like this in just 100 words.
What is happening in the world right now…I feel my heart is going to cave in a dark bottom hole and feel this pain deep within.
Emotionally, and powerfully moving.
The video composition of “Andrei Tarkovsky” is amazing. He was ahead of his time in film making.
Yes I really liked that video, and even if I never understood the movie when I saw it, it has created very strong visual memories…
Indeed. Andrei Tarkovsky was a genius much like Kubrick himself.
BTW tomorrow it’s OLN
Yes!!! yay!!!! I’ll be there tomorrow. 🙂
I agree with what has been said. Sad and very real. We observed this painful story when we lived in Ontario: the daughter, an only child, had married a Canadian and persuaded her tiny, elderly Scottish mother to move close to her.
The mother no sooner got settled—and had a hard time fitting in where most women were a foot taller and often commented on her size— when the daughter divorced her husband married again and moved to Florida with her new spouse. As there was Mom, alone in a new country, not knowing a soul, and literally not fitting in. And thus she spent the last 10 or 15 years of her life.
I think that when you settle in new soil your roots are that of your closest … when the family is gone many of your roots are too….
I can see how emigration can make it worse, but I think even without moving, if you lose your family, then you lose your place in the world.
I think so to… but at least you know the map of your world.
This makes me wonder about what really roots us to a place. Family, customs, memories, ideology? Probably all of these things but how could you not put down new roots where you raised a family? I wonder.
A good story.
Tracey
If the roots are in your family I think you will be lost when the family is gone.. if you come as a child it’s way easier.
So many layers, so much to digest in these words. I find myself sympathizing with him although when I read about the black flag I didn’t want to.
There have been many who has lived under those black flags who never where victims…
I will just sound redundant so will compliment you on this very well told tale that I found myself reading thrice! I would hate to feel this way…
Yes it would be chilling to experience… if I was ever uprooted I would make every effort to taste the soil of my new place….
Same here…
Thats a very beautiful story. It is a whole lifetime.
There are many lifetimes now and in the future that will play like this.
This was absolutely fantastic, Bjorn. 100 words are nowhere near enough but you have done justice to the story. I was reminded of a Tamil movie – ‘Kannathil Muthamittal’ which has the story set in a war-torn Sri Lanka. I’m posting the link to a song from the movie. There are no subtitles but the visuals are very striking and haunting.
Thank you, yes I think the story is universal… which is why we need to put a face to all those stories
This really moved me. You are such a fabulous writer.
Thank you so much for those words… a high praise indeed.
Varad, indeed the visuals are haunting. I could understand a bit.thanks for sharing
This isn’t home….. so rightly said. The refugees flee from their land to a new place losing their identity. The adopted place will always remain a stranger to them. Rightly captured the essence in a few words.
I think if we understand this one it would make the world a better place to be.
His family were his roots, and once gone… nice one!
Yes…. and its too late to root himself.
Hi Bjorn,
This was so poignant and well done. It’s very hard for the first generation which immigrates and in so many cases, makes a huge sacrifice which is ultimately reaped by their children.
xx Rowena
In the best cases… in some cases the children will also feel rootless.
The palpable pathos of this piece, and then the film clip. My word.
I loved the film in ways I have not realized since many years later.
Great story Bjorn. The worn out shoes of a refugee is indeed a powerful image
Yes I think it would be… many of them are actually leaving something behind which we tend to forget.
as an immigrant myself, this story does ring a bell.
I would expect it would… thank you
Chilling, but wonderful!
Thank you
A plight so excellently told from an unusual slant. Beautiful choice of words to reflect his sense of loss and his yearning to return to his roots.
We do as old I think… even if we just moved within our own country
OMG! Your last line packs a punch. Loneliness is more awful than any other lack. I should know having just lost my sister. A month ago she was alive. I feel for the aloneness of my BIL.
Glad to see you again!
Thank you, yes it would of course, and family is part of your roots
Yes. Very much so. Thank you!
My son isn’t a refugee but he did emigrate to Canada when he married a girl from there. I suspect he will never feel as at home there as his daughters will.
I hope that he will have his family close, then I think he will feel right at home.
I liked your after-story comments. Reminded me of that first holiday away from home, away from the USA, in a place I probably should have never been. I remember being surrounded by people who didn’t speak English in any form and feeling so utterly alone and lost that I could barely function. At that point, I remember a tourist passing by me who smiled, and said ‘Good Morning’ in English before moving on, and to this day, I swear they were an angel sent to comfort me.
I do remember how crazy I seemed whenever I heard Swedish spoken when I was living in the US (and I did understand the language)
If only more people were willing to walk in the shoes of others the world would be a better place. Thank you for showing the way…
I think it just require a bit of fantasy…
Loss of language is what one feels in exile. Thought provoking story.
I would guess that too… I remember being lost despite being fluent in English when living in the US.
Beautifully written, Bjorn. I like the resonance of those ending phrases.
Thank you… it’s not easy to be alone in unknown territories
“Lonilness will clear the cobwebs.” Great line.
My father had dementia, and it seems the common denominator of those suffering from that affliction is they want to go “home.”
Awesome job this week, Bjorn.
Indeed… my mother talked about home which was her childhood until she lost all ability to speak… she still lingers but what she thinks I cannot tell.
Wow. Powerful!
Thank you