A Journey To My Safe Place - Part1

Journey To My Safe Place – Part 1

Many individual personal experiences have led them to seek out a safe place. What is a safe place? To a child, it might be that blanket that makes him/her feels secure or in mommy's arms or daddy's arms. To a single Adult or an adolescence, it might be the comfort of their room or an isolated place. To a Refugee as I was, it could be a refugee camp, a day with a full stomach, or America. I want to concentrate on the latter. This short story talks about safe places during a civil war.

War is a bad thing, but civil war is even worse as it is a country against its self. The feeling of home is not there and the carnage is everywhere. Sleep is a safe place but only comes through total exhaustion and it is short live and you are constantly awoken by bombs and gunshots echoing throughout the night.  The last time I saw my first safe place was in December 1990. I can still remember the sweet scent of cassava leaf and rice on the fire being cooked by my sister. She always cooked for all 16 of us brothers and sisters and of course my mom and dad.  I was in the kitchen with her cause I like to taste her food as usual. On this day I did not get a taste as there was a drowning loud noise and we both were thrown through the side of the kitchen from an explosion. The reality of the civil war has reached my safe place and life as I have known it would never be the same.

We were separated that day from each other, I would come to learn of their ordeals 2 years later when we were reunited in the refugee camp in Buduburam Refugee Camp, Ghana. However, I know that there are millions of people out there like me that had their safe places shattered. But I would like to commend them for finding something that they considered a safe place, restarting their lives and trusting again can be a hard thing. Give yourself a pat on the back as you are an overcomer, and did not submit to fear of the unknown. Bravo! Bravo! Bravo!