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One flew over the refugee camp

Extracts from this document...

Introduction

Dear Diary, My name is Heelen Shah. This is my writing and my thoughts based on my horrific encounters of the WW2. Today's date: A diary entry of 7th September 1941. The World War 2 has finally began - the days which I have been dreading for so long...Germany has targeted us, and we will be soon victims of this dreadful conflict. Today, I received a letter this morning from the post. It was addressed to me - it had my name on it! But who would want to write to me? My curiosity was growing more and more over this letter; I felt inquisitive by it. I hastily flipped open the letter, and read: Dear Mr Shah, I am writing to inform you about the danger around here. The World War 2 has begun, and so we need to evacuate as many people as we can. We will send you to a refugee camp in India and will inform you regularly about the war... ...read more.

Middle

I am with the police, and to them, I am an immigrant. The security men are chasing up my records from Great Britain. They are trying to find evidences if I have been in trouble with the police before; if I have done anything wrong to get myself into trouble. They are treating me really bad - as if I am a real bad citizen. "Please, let me phone Benson. Just one quick phone call-" "Who is this Benson?" "He is a highly ranked officer who brought me here in the first place." The security guy looked sternly at me. "O.K - just one quick phone call, and that is it. Make sure you don't do anything funny 'cause if you do - you know the consequences." He handed me his mobile, and I dialled the number, pressing each key forcefully. "Hello, this is Mr Shah - is this Benson?" "Yes...I remember you, how are you, how's the refugee camp? "I am in an immigrant place - stuck and I need your help to clear me off-" "Sorry, can't help you..." ...read more.

Conclusion

First of all, the commander of the refugee's gave me a warm welcome, but as I saw other refugees in the camp, they looked at me tediously. I knew that they didn't want me here. "What're you doing here" spat out an American refugee. "I had to immediately evacuate the city." I couldn't care less about the rudeness people had around here. I just had enough of this place. I want to go home. I want to be with my family. With these thoughts, the evening swiftly went passed, as how a droplet of water slowly, but steadily reaches the ocean. 29th June 1942 - At the refugee camp. Dear Diary, I have just spent a week here, at the refugee camp. I feel isolated, miserable, and I am missing home and my family. All we get here is a place to stay and a very short provision of food. We get rice and bread three times a day, and normally, we have to fight for the short quantity of food. I have no friends, and I just solemnly keep my sorrow thoughts inside myself, and I simply wait for someone to help me...just waiting... ...read more.

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