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I’m still here in this hot, dusty place of long dead volcanic craters, of sandstorms that hurt your eyes and sting your face, of buzzing flies and shoeless children, of seeming poverty and entirely different social mores, and yet everything had changed. I had met Badria.  She was sixteen. We fast became friends and I would visit her after school.  Badria would make me hot sweet tea while quizzing me about life in England, about schools, about girls, about home life, about relationships, about society.  I gave what limited information I, as a twelve year old had to offer.  And she was always hungry for more.  She had British magazines that she would pour over, pointing out the things that seemed wonderful to her, especially, I think, the freedom of women. Badria’s Dad was a relatively enlightened man and was determined that she learned to speak English.  She was the only…

So here I am, a very unhappy twelve year old.  Living in the middle of an old volcanic crater amidst steaming heat and sand. We settled into school, as best as we could.  Changing schools becomes so much harder as you get older.  Everyone has settled into their friendships, their comfort zones and making room for a newcomer isn’t necessarily on their agenda.  Oh well. But I continued to amuse myself,  wandering around the souks and bazaars fascinated by the sights, the smells, the noise.  Food on stands displayed openly, covered in flies and the dust of exhaust fumes from the old cars that made their way slowly down the narrow streets. Green spittle was everywhere.   Khat, I later learned was something of a narcotic plant, that was chewed and the residue spat out and it didn’t seem to matter where.  But perhaps there was an order to it that…

If you’ve read my bio you’ll know that we travelled a lot.  As a kid, we moved every two years…home, school, towns, even countries.  It was exhilarating and sometimes hard.  Having to make new friends every couple of years became a really big challenge. When I was twelve we arrived here:  This is Aden, Yemen.  OMG was my first thought.  Actually, no it wasn’t,  I was twelve,  it was much more OMG, OMG, OMG what am I doing here.  I cried.  Of course it was all about me.   This must be the ends of the earth I’d heard people talk about…as in “I’d go to the ends of the earth for you.”  Well here we were. This place was built in the middle of an extinct volcano.  A crater.  Rock, rock and more rock.  Nothing green growing anywhere.   And hot.  There were days when it was 110 degrees and that…

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