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yelling as we traded punches. Even though my opponent was way bigger than me, I gave him as good as I got. Eventually, the teachers pulled us apart and dragged us both to the head teacher’s office. I got a black eye and a suspension for my troubles. When I returned from my suspension, no one ever tried to intimidate me. Everyone knew about the crazy Somali kid who’d picked a fight with the hardest kid on his first day of school. That gave me a certain respect with my classmates. They knew I wasn’t weak.
    Mahad showed me the ropes around the school. He was good like that. We sat next to each other in class. We might have been cousins, but we’d grown up in very different worlds. Mahad had been born in Britain, he spoke fluent English and he had dreams of becoming a singer when he was older. He was more British than Somali. Having him around made it easier for me to settle at Oriel, for sure. More than anything, I just wanted to have friends.
    One of my earliest memories of my days at school in England is when I invited a classmate over to my house after school. I didn’t know this kid very well; I just desperately wanted to introduce my parents to my ‘new white friend’. My mum liked to be told about guests coming over and didn’t like strangers randomly showing up unannounced. She wasn’t exactly thrilled when I showed up one day after school proudly showing off my new friend. While this other kid sat in the front room, Mum pulled me to one side.
    ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she hissed. ‘You can’t just bring strangers around here! Tell him to leave at once!’
    ‘But
Hooyo
[Mum]!’ I protested, ‘he’s my friend!’
    There was still so much I had to get used to when it came to life in Britain. Like the weather, for example. I’d never seen snow before. That first winter it snowed so heavily I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The whole town was blanketed in thick white. Then there was the cold. Djibouti stayed hot all year round. In December and January the temperature might drop to around 29ºC. That’s about as cold as it ever got. My first winter in England, I remember my fingers and toes turning numb from the freezing cold. I wore gloves but I could never warm up my hands. I’m fine with the rain, but I can’t be dealing with the cold. I’ll probably never get used to it.
    My time at Oriel came to an end in the summer. I’d finished Year Six and would now be going to secondary school. At home, my parents decided to separate.
    My dad coming home from Djibouti without Hassan had a big influence on the breakdown of their marriage, I think. It cast a shadow over the family. Eventually, Mum and Dad decided to get divorced. As kids, we all had a choice with regards to whom we wanted to live with. My three brothers chose to move to Brighton with my dad. For me, things were different. I had already grown close to my cousin, Mahad. I still missed Hassan every day – he was a big void in my life – and in a way Mahad was the closest thing I had to Hassan. It was Hassan all over again. We did everything together and I looked up to him. I’d been so used to having a wingman to do everything with, and having grown close to Mahad, I didn’t want to go through that trauma again of being separated from someone I’d bonded closely with. I wanted to stay with Aunt Kinsi so I could be close to Mahad. Out of sympathy for my situation, and knowing what I had already been through with Hassan, my parents agreed. Aunt Kinsi had been good to me. This was also good for me because my mum remained local – she lived just up the road from my auntie, which meant I was able to see her regularly. I shared a bedroom with Mahad at Aunt Kinsi’s. We had a bunk bed. I got the top bunk; Mahad slept at the bottom.
    Several years later – I’m not sure of the exact date – Mum flew back to Djibouti to search for Hassan. She’d missed him as much as me and was desperate to find out what had happened to her