The Third Giant Step

The first step is always the hardest.

I am about to take a giant step in my life, third giant step. So far, I have had two other giant ones, each for a stage in the course of my life. 

At this moment, this step is very important to be focused on, as the two were important at their time. This one takes me from a world which I have been born and raised to a world full of unknown.

When I graduated from high school with a good grade, I was advised by parents, siblings, relatives and friends with advises they wished for me to take. Each of them had something in his/her mind and wanted to put it into use on me. Some advised me to go to Law College, some others preferred Police Academy, while some recommended Business Management. 

I had a whole different plan in my mind. 

I decided to go to College of languages, English language department. I graduated there, learnt a new language, English, and then found a job with a good pay. That was the first giant step in my life and paved the way to the second.

The second one was getting married with my wife; the most precious, invaluable and magnificent thing in my life. I saw her one day, had a crush on her, immersed in her beauty for five months, made a decision to achieve her, waited for two years afterwards and finally achieved her. She was worth-waiting for. That was the second giant step in my life.

Now, I have found myself face to face with the third giant step. 

I feel like I am sitting on needles!

This time, like Robert Frost, two roads are diverged in front of me. I have to choose one of them. Yeah, only one of them, because I cannot travel both. I want to make a choice that I will regret less after time goes by.

The road that will be taken by me is going to be my Third Giant Step.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

Moments of Being a Stranger -Part Three

A short memoir by Soran Mustafa Kurdi

Before going to New York City, I reserved a hotel room online. Up on arriving at the hotel, the receptionist, an Asian American as one could easily tell by his small eyes, asked for a photo ID. I showed him my passport. 

He looked at the passport, stole a glance at me, and smiled a little. 

“Where are you from?” He asked.

“Iraq!” I answered.

His smile got bigger till I could easily see his front teeth.

“Salam u Alaikum!” he said, giving me the room key. 

…………………………………………

* Salam u Alaikum is an Arabic expression for greeting, it means “Peace be upon you”.

Moments of being a Stranger- Part Two

A short memoir by Soran Mustafa Kurdi

In Washing DC I got into a taxi to get back to my hotel. On the way, the respectable, humble, black-skinned driver asked:

“You do not seem to be American, Where are you from?”

I did not want to mention Kurdistan to avoid myself from giving an explanation of where it was located.

“Iraq!” I answered.

“Really!” the driver said, in amazement “Welcome, Tell me whatcha doin’ here boy! We've invaded your country, we’re your enemy!?”

I came with the answer that different ethnic groups were living in Iraq, Arabs and Kurds were the two major ones.

“The Kurds consider Americans as their friend, but the Arabs don’t have the same view! This is the Iraqi Arabs who want to send the Americans out not the Kurds and I am a Kurd” I added.

“Oh! Yeah, The Kurds were discriminated during Saddam’s regime!”

My jaw dropped when I heard an American taxi driver knew about Kurdish people!

Moments of being a Stranger- Part One

A short memoir by Soran Mustafa Kurdi

Standing in front of Capitol Hill, I looked around to ask someone to take me a photo. There, passed by a gorgeous blonde girl. I asked if she could take me a photo. She accepted with pleasure!

After taking my photo, she asked me to take her one with her own digital camera as well.

“Where are you from?” she began while taking back her camera from me by the hand.

“Kurdistan!” I answered.

With a blank face, she remained silent.

“Actually, I am from Iraqi Kurdistan, the northern part of Iraq. Kurdistan is one of ….”

I started talking about Kurdistan, its location and its people.