A Narrative of Migration

The friend that I visited in London, I have known for more than 30 years. It was in the middle of the year when I joined the tenth grade of high school, took the empty seat next to him in the left rear corner of the classroom. We moved a lot so this was already my third (and in fact not the last) high school change, meaning new people, and if you’re lucky new friends, each time. The good thing is that I’m lucky enough to keep the most precious friendships.

After graduating from high school we did a seven week trip together. We bought an old convertible military beetle from WWII. It was painted in camouflage and when we entered Belfast in 1986 the city center was surrounded by tanks and heavily weaponed soldiers who actually didn’t find our car as funny as the hitchhikers across Europe.

During this trip we talked a lot about how our lives were and would possibly be. He said that some people tend to stay where they are, and some peoples’ lives turn out to be more so a journey. I guess ours happened to be like the latter ones. His father’s family flew from East-Prussia to Southern Germany due to WWII, and after graduation he settled in London, worked for several years in New York, met his future wife, and returned to London where they raise two beautiful sons. One of them is my god son, but of course I don’t make a difference between the two of them, neither do they, both call me uncle.

My hometown is Istanbul, to where my grandgrandgrandparents migrated partially from the highlands of Anatolia, and earlier from Africa, Armenia and who knows where else. I then grew up in Germany like Özil who happened to become a national player for Germany and now, after Real, he became a British star with Arsenal, and last but certainly not least for my seven year old godson and his little five year old brother who are now growing up in London.

Last Saturday we attended their soccer training in the beautiful neighbourhood of Barnes. Both were proudly wearing their freshly received soccer shorts and shirts of the national German soccer team with Özil on the back and three stars on the chest. I had the feeling no one noticed, it was just about the game.

Early Morning Soccer Prep

Soccer Match London