Is this my new school, Mummy?
Tuesday, February 14th, 2012
Early morning, Mum and Dad took me (and my sister and my 2 brothers) by taxi on a mystery journey, about 30 minutes from our house, passing wide vast deserts dotted with tents. Oh look, camels! Some of them are black, and some are, well, camel-coloured.
Mummy read the writing on the gate for me: Sultan Bin Abdul Aziz Humanitarian City. I guess it was some kind of hospital, just like the one where sometime I spent a few nights of sleepover when I was poorly, back in Indonesia (yes, the same hospital where I went to my school). Only this one, wow, my brothers can get lost running around in it if Mummy didn’t tell them to stay with her. Mum and Dad told me that I need to go to school here as well, so that someday I can run around with my brothers…..
Anyway, after some kind of initial confusion of where to go, we went to the registration office and Dad wrote some things on a paper. I feel like I can see my name on it. Then hey presto, I’ve got a new card, not much use to me I know. But Dad always showed it around in that hospital, so I guess it’s quite important.
Then we went upstairs, to a clinic called Child Development Centre, where there were lots doctors and nurses who took a good look at me, weighed me, and asked Mum and Dad lots and lots and lots of questions. Sometimes they prod me, ouch, that bit hurts you know. Mummy told me what kind of doctors they are: ophtalmologist, pediatrician, pediatric-neurologist, physiatrist and dentist. There, Mummy is clever.
I felt very tired and bored by the same questions asked over and over again. But Mum and Dad answer all the doctors patiently, you know, that was the first time they met me, so it’s OK to ask. And sometimes they didn’t understand each other very well because their English was quite different with my Mum and Dad’s. So I just laughed myself and clapped my hands, yes, it was funny you see.
Five doctors in one day is too much for anyone, let alone for me. And some of them called me Habibi, which funnily enough, is not my name, but it’s kind of nice because that means My Love.
I haven’t started my school and therapies yet, because those people still arranged my schedule for me. Wow, that sounds very cool.
Bye then, ma salama
Written by Yasin’s Mum.