Their Happiness
Dear Mamma!
I think of you, Mamma!
Has big brother called you, Mamma?
Have you heard anything from little sister, Mamma?
Are you getting your medicines, Mamma?
Has the bombings stopped, Mamma?
Death and destruction around, Mamma?
Are the faceless enemies still all around, Mamma?
Sorry, Mamma, I ask you questions you may not have answers. They are the ones they sit in my head most of the time, Mamma.
I have difficulty in focussing on learning the language. I feel dispirited to attend Swedish language classes but Mamma it is a must. If I do not attend those classes they will stop the sustenance money, Mamma. I try to learn Swedish, forcing myself to learn. I am learning, Mamma, but slowly. You know, Mamma, how am I.
Mamma, in today’s class there was a teacher on whose face I saw happiness like I have never seen on anyone’s face in Gothenburg. Mamma, that smile that happiness that gladness that cheerfulness springing in her face was at the thought of that coming sunny day. Sunshine. Mamma, imagine sunshine giving so much. I have to say, Mamma, I was strangely happy at the sight of happiness on her face. She is a new teacher but you know I have so many teachers for I have been learning the language for so many months, Mamma. She was talking about what we will be doing in the coming week and she shared what she would be doing when someone in the class asked about her plans for that sunny day.
Mamma, if sunshine can give so much happiness, there is something around us to seek it. Not from people, Mamma.
Some people feed misery to many people.
Few people do anything for their happiness.
A few people consider to spread joy to others.
The Swedish language teacher, Mamma, is going to see her grandmother somewhere up in northern Sweden. And, that day is going to be sunny, Mamma, and that makes her happy, Mamma.
If sun gives sunshine, if moon gives moonshine, if stars give twinkles why can’t we seek happiness in the sunshine or moonshine or in those twinkles, Mamma? Why have we become what we have become?
Mamma, there is a man from Iraq in my class who also saw the class teacher burst in joy at the thought of that would be coming day’s sunshine, he too burst into joy, Mamma.
I never saw this Iraqi man so happy. I know him for more than three months Mamma but never saw a hint of happiness or he being alive to the world around him. I thought the happiness has disappeared from his life. But he too was happy, Mamma, seeing the happiness on the face of the teacher. He has managed to come here with his family, Mamma. When the teacher asked him what he would do on that sunny day this Iraqi man said he would take his family out to the park and have a picnic in the park and enjoy the sunshine. He said this in broken Swedish but he managed it well.
The teacher asked everyone in the class about the plans for that sunny day, Mamma, she also asked me, Mamma. You know, Mamma, what I said? As their happiness stayed in me, Mamma, and I answered the teacher, with a smile, Mamma. A smile came out on my face without my knowledge, Mamma. This was the first time in more than two years that a smile rose on my face, Mamma. I became conscious of myself, Mamma. There is still life left in me, I think, Mamma.
Mamma, I feel I stayed back with you and lived with you and go through with you with all that you go through in Syria, Mamma. I miss you, Mamma.
I feel something is reviving in me, Mamma. I will be normal Mamma, and will do anything to see you soon, Mamma, once I get all these papers.
Mamma, I feel lonely but Mamma, getting used to it. I will try to find a way here, Mamma. I realize it, Mamma, there is a hope. Mamma, I also feel, I left you, Mamma. I know Mamma you want me to be alive and live but Mamma I miss you Mamma.
Your youngest son
—Short, Short; Story: by Lucinda Palme
