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الجمعة 16 يناير 2009

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The Story Of A Young Boy From Tajoura

The story of forlorn young boy from Tajoura and the shelters he sought refuge in far off places Like Feldafing Germany, New Haven CT USA and finally Cambridge MA USA are separate from his fellow disapora brethren and sisters who are now living their dreams in faraway places from home like the USA and western Europe where the rights of man are protected and honored to live like human beings with dignity. At an early age, leaving behind his boyhood and seeking to grow free and pursue whatever his desires were, leaving behind family, brothers and sisters, relatives, and very dear friends who remained to subsist under the control of a tyrannical regime who petulantly maltreats them for their insubordination. This young boy with difficulty flees to Germany, where he soon finds life so challenging and at times so arduous, nevertheless so rewarding to be free. He went school, worked some three jobs, finished high school, and decided to pursue college in another far and distant refuge in America. Being accepted to an ivy league was sort of dream and almost a dice like role game and he wondered why me? What is about me and not my friends from noble families, high socioeconomic, Europeans, affluent, and most of all they are groomed to attend such schools! He wondered why me? It is not for his academic excellence, but for the mere fact of his essay and his fortitude to live free. Life starts new in New Haven and on campus, folks on campus then smoked drugs, drunk alcoholic beverages, danced to rocking and roll all nights, and the odd thing they never seemed to worry about anything except few who were political concerned and activists. Many were very bright young men and women who sought graduate schools and went on to become leaders among us today, yet this young man from Tajoura sought a life of the nerd hood which consisted mainly of work and study, study and work. That was fun for him. This young fellow from Tajoura made coconscious effort to forgo his mother tongue and to never speak it again. He realized that his future lies in his aptitude to excel at any cost, his yearning to be what he always wanted to be, and sure all of the sudden these dreams became reality, and his aspiration reached its target, and comes the moment when the pillow itching for comfort in faraway places(the nostalgia) the maladies of melancholy and the yearning to see his mother at least once again before she passes away. His yearning to see his mother just once again came to end last year when she died from lung cancer. His evocative world seemed to never recover from an intricate and involved long journey. He tried hard to get back and just forget about the place called Tajoura after a childhood friend whom he dearly loved passed away as well due to multiple sclerosis he fought for so many years. Then he came to learn about the suicide of his younger brother whom he never met, and learnt about the circumstances that surrounded his death. This boy from Tajoura learnt about the unsympathetic public when his family was maliciously accused and brutally treated by Qaddafi and his lunatic bunch. This man now from America is on the verge of saying bomb Libya wherever you find Qaddafi and his accomplices, he feels helpless when hears about the plights of the Berbers in Libya or the massacres in Derna or Benghazi, he would be more than willing to acquiesce to any sort of war that can be waged against Qaddafi in order to free Libya.
Many of you would agree this man from Tajoura is angry and very upset, many would just say he is ranting and just give a space, and few say this sounds just like my story and I share his pains.
Friends Libya is home as long as you once breathed its air, drunk its waters, and born into its people; yes it is a bit difficult to think about the yesteryears without reminiscing, without tears when you see a lady like this man from Tajoura mother.

Raymond


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