It was their idea: a trip to Stratford. And so it was ... the other Thursday we took ten learners from Coventry Jesus Centre to Stratford – from Iran, Iraqi Kurdistan, Latvia and France. The Kurdish ladies were attired in their best clothes; indeed, I felt positively under-dressed. The best costumes in the theatre exhibition we were later to see were barely an equal match to theirs!
None of them had ever been to Stratford before. Everything was exciting! Everything was interesting. How good to see the obvious pleasure in their eyes at observing, for so many of us, quite ordinary things! It’s strange how you look at the old familiar sights with fresh eyes when you are with people who are seeing those things for the first time. The old heron sitting in the tree, the gracious swans and narrow, summer barges, the ancient, timber-framed buildings; even the word ‘royal’ takes on an exciting new meaning as RSC (Royal Shakespeare Company) has to be explained.
Threatened with a thunderstorm which never happened, we jumped off our transport and wended our way through the crowded streets up to Shakespeare’s birthplace, taking countless photos, and then onto New Place and back onto the riverside park.
Lunch was the best; it’s got to be the finest picnic I ever had; I’d bought some honey sandwiches but I certainly didn’t need them! Our Kurdish mama had bought a picnic for fifteen and more! This was Siti from a previous blog The silver tray was bought out and we all were given abundant portions of biryani and a highly colourful dolma dish. It was a feast and the likes of such a splendid picnic can rarely have been seen before on that park besides the Avon. Passersby's heads turned - intrigued at the unusual sight.
After that, we walked along besides the river to the parish church to see the bard’s burial place, then back across the ferry - pretty exhausted actually.
For all our faults, the UK has a brilliant heritage; when you get to know these Iranians and Iraqi Kurds and what they have suffered, you realise just how fortunate we are on this little isle of ours. We have known civil wars about the very things they have – who is going to rule – but we’ve come out on the other side.
But for all our rich heritage, we have so much to learn from our friends ... their appreciation, their pleasure at the simple things of life and above all their hospitality and open-hearted friendship. Teachers only have students for a short while. For us, to know them for this brief spell in time is a privilege.
A few years ago, I remember my late grandmother, in her eighties and
having lived through two world wars, turning to me with a troubled face
and saying that she never recalled seeing anything more horrific in her
whole lifetime than the plight of the Iraqi Kurds.
Iraqi
Kurdestan, an autonomous region of north-east Iraq, has had a troubled
history, particularly under Saddam Hussein, the President of Iraq from
1979 -2003. During the Iran–Iraq War (1980 -88) the Iraqi government
used chemical weapons against the Kurds and thousands died. The large
Kurdish town of Qala Dizeh (70,000) was completely destroyed by the
Iraqi army.
There
are around 200,000 Kurds living in the UK today (these include Turkish,
Iranian, Syrian as well as Iraqi Kurds).
The story below involves two
Iraqi Kurds, Siti and Silan and a French Angolan, Alexandrie who attend classes at Coventry Jesus Centre. (These are not their real names).
Siti looks lonely this afternoon. That’s because her 'daughter' is not with her. Her ‘daughter’ Silan, is an adopted one because her own daughter is far away, in Kurdestan.
Siti and Silan are inseparable.
Silan is better at English than Siti but I can’t put them in different groups. They are inseparable, tied at the heart. But today Silan is not here.
Siti tells me she is missing Silan.
Alexandrie comes in; she is smiling, smiling all over, like she always does. She sits next to Siti and helps her because the spelling is difficult today, difficult for them both and usually Silan helps her.
Siti is a Muslim and Alexandrie is a Christian but that doesn’t seem to matter. Today Alexandre has decided to treat Siti like mum. She helps her with the spelling. At the end of the class she gives her a big hug.
Siti is someone who shines, shines with the smile and heart of a mother. She draws people. Alexandrie, too, the sun shines from her and when the sun shines, there is cheer. Even a darkened soul lights up; even a tired, tired Friday afternoon.
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