Make New Memories

Kira Ewing
Did you hear what that Italian man said today? Isebel, Luulas mother, asked. Luula
shook her head. Hes been ridiculing our god again. I dont know why Im surprised, since thats
all these Italians are good for, Isebel said, rolling her eyes.
They arent all bad, Luula said, Theyve brought a lot of trade, and money, and
education to Somalia-
Oh, I suppose thats what they teach you in school? Isebel said sharply, cutting her off.
Are you going to come home one day and ridicule our god, too?
No, mother, I just think that its not all as bad as everyone makes it out to be, Luula
said, shrugging. She poured some soup into a bowl, and passed the bowl to her mother.
Youre young, you dont know anything, her mother dismissed her words with a wave
of a hand. She took the soup, adding in spices and flavoring. I swear, someday theyre going to
get whats coming to them, she muttered darkly. Handing the bowl back to Luula, they each
picked up as many bowls as they could carry, and headed outside. The two walked to the
neighboring hut in the semi-darkness, to where her father lived. The hut itself was a circular
building, with a thatched roof that came to a point at the highest tip. It wasnt that large, but it
was the larger building compared to the two on either side of it.
Inside, they met the rest of Luulas family, which included: Capheus, her father, with his
other wife Adiela, and her three children. Isebel, Luula, and her younger brother Aaden were the
last to arrive. They laid down the bowls, and sat around the table illuminated by a couple of large
wax candles. The dirt floor was covered by a thick rug, made from sheeps wool. Artistic
tapestries hung on the wall.
How was your day, Luula? Adiela asked. Luula looked up from her soup, thinking.
School was good, she said slowly. She wasnt sure how they would like to talk about her
schooling.
As she suspected, Adiela replied with, That missionary school? The one thats been
corrupting your mind?
I suppose thats the one, Luula said. And, well, speaking of which, Im nearly
completely fluent in Italian now, she hedged, wondering if she should continue.
Yes? Thats interesting, Adiela said, uninterested.
You look as if you want to ask something. What is it? Luula looked up quickly, as her
father Capheus addressed her.
Oh, well, I was just thinking that, maybe, I could possibly travel north? To learn
English? She winced, already knowing the answer.
What? Why? Isnt two languages enough? Her mother snapped. The last thing you
need is to leave your home, your traditions, your family to go off and learn another language
right now. You need to work, you need to learn your own traditions before you indulge in
another. And yeah, that was what she expected them to say. Luula knew she had a point, but
she still felt that it was unfair.

Youre only thirteen, youre much too young to leave home anyway. What if something
were to happen to you? Who knows if well even still be here? Who knows how long it will take?
Capheus reasoned. Both of her older siblings were nodding, as they agreed with the adults. Even
though the oldest was only sixteen. Her younger siblings looked as if they agreed with Luula.
Well, they mostly looked like they didnt care, but they werent taking their parents side.
I think I am old enough! Nothings going to happen! Luula said, feeling hints of anger;
that was unusual for her. Alonzo says that he has friends who live there, and that they would be
able to look after me while Im there. Besides, Its not like Ill be there forever, She added.
Alonzo? Youve already discussed this with your teacher? Capheus asked.
He said that he thought it would be a good idea, Luula admitted.
I dont trust him. The Italians do not know what is best for you, or for anyone. I do not
think that you should go, he added.
But I want to learn more, father. I want to travel. I could get a job as a translator, and
maybe even go to Europe! Luula said. This was what she wanted to do with her life, and she was
very determined.
No.
But-
I said no.
Luula did not speak to her family again before heading to bed.
~~~
The next morning Luula slipped out of bed, soundlessly. The sun had yet to rise, and
most everyone still slept in their beds. She tiptoed across the one room of her mothers home,
very careful not to awaken her younger brother. She opened the door a tiny crack, grabbed her
bag, and slipped outside. It was still dark, though the slightest grey tinge had made its way into
the sky. It was deadly silent, and it almost felt like there was no village here, that there never had
been, with how still the air hung. It was only stirred by the slightest chilled breeze.
Her teacher had said to meet her contact outside of the village, at dawn. The only thing
she knew about her contact was that he was a friend of her teachers, and that she would be
staying with him in British Somaliland. Her parents did not know that she was leaving, and
neither did her siblings.
She crept through the tall grasses, staying behind houses and away from the main roads
and paths. Her heart was beating very quickly, and she glanced behind herself every couple of
seconds. Her bare feet pressed into the soft dirt as she held up her dark green skirt to avoid
trailing it along the ground. She wondered if she was doing the right thing.
She desperately wanted to travel the world, and she knew she couldnt do that without
learning English first. However, doing this would mean leaving her family. Hopefully not for
very long, but who knew how long it would take?
Distracted by her thoughts, she nearly stumbled over an unexpected rock that she had
not seen in the dim light. Thinking it over though, the pros outweighed the cons. Luula
continued forward. The sky grew lighter, turning a very soft blue color. Finally, she made it past

the huts and to the edge of the forest. She was not sure what she was looking for, but she had
been assured that she would know when she saw it.
And there, a man stood next to two horses. She did not know him, but she knew that this
must be the man that her teacher had told her about.
Luula? He asked, as she got closer. He was much paler than any white Italian person
that she had seen, and had light brown hair. He was very tall, and muscular. Probably in his
thirties. He had a neutral expression, neither happy nor angry. Luula, on the other hand, was a
mixture of several emotions. She was excited, nervous, guilty, and worried, all at once.
Yes, Im Luula, she said shakily, after a pause. The man nodded.
Here is your horse, we should travel now, he said. He was speaking Somali, but not
very fluently, and with a thick accent. She was not sure what accent it was, though. It didnt
sound like Italian to her, so it must have been British.
Luula stepped towards the horse, and looked back at her village. She had been good with
the timing, as the sun had just broken the horizon. It showered the huts with a warm orange
glow, with colors of pink filling the sky. The grass was a muted green color, not quite bright
enough to see clearly. She saw a hint of movement, and quickly turned back to the man and the
horses. They nodded to each other, and he helped her get onto a dusty brown horse. He hopped
on to his own horse with a practiced skill, and they started to ride north through the forest.
~~~
The journey to British Somaliland took a week or so, it was hard to keep track of how far
it was. Along the way, Luula learned that the mans name was Christopher, and that he had one
wife and two kids, both younger than her by a couple years. His family was fairly small by her
standards, and she couldn't imagine that they had much money without people to man their
farm.
The further north they went the more the trees and rivers disappeared, their place taken
by sands and shrubs, with scarce trees. They never strayed more than a couple of miles from the
ocean, so the salty smell of the wind blowing westward never left. It reminded her of home.
When they rode in at dusk, she was surprised to see that they had a larger home than
her. There was only one building, but it was a lot larger than her home. It was square, too. There
were two stories, with many windows. Behind the house were rows of plants growing. A woman
appeared in the doorway, wearing a long dress and an apron. She was white, as was the child
hiding behind her.
There is my wife, Cathrine, Christopher said, nodding to the woman. Luula nodded in
response. Hello! He called to her. She waved back.
They rode their horses over to the barn, and tied them to a fence.before walking to the
house. Catherine smiled warmly at them, and seemed to be examining Luula closely. She greeted
her husband with a hug, and then turned to Luula.
Welcome, she said simply. She did not pronounce the Somali word quite right, but she
probably didnt speak the language very well, if at all. Luula smiled at her, and they shook hands.
Catherine invited them inside. She then said something in English, and Christopher translated it
into Somali, saying that food is ready. Luula felt that she would like it here, once she learned
more English.

That night, she wrote a letter to her own family. Christopher said that her letter probably
wont arrive in her village for a week or two, but Luula felt that its ok, and that shell hear back
from them eventually, even if it does take a month.
August 30th, 1935
Im very sorry that I had to leave so suddenly, but I needed to do this.
Its my dream, as youve undoubtedly heard before, to be a translator and
travel the world. Most of Europe speaks English, and now that an opportunity
has arisen to learn it, I have to take it.
Im living with a man named Christopher, his wife Catherine, and
their two sons, Eric and Peter. Theyre both younger than me. They have a
small family, but they have a large farm. Im still not used to the way that
theyve hired others to work on it. They have horses, though! I named the one
that I rode Sunshine, because I felt like he was happy to be in the sun.
Say hello to everyone for me! No that you dont need to feed me, I
expect to see everyone looking fit and healthy when I get back.
Love, Luula.
~~~
The next morning, she asked about how the farm was going, with there not being enough
people to run it.
Ah, yes. You see, we have paid several native people to work on our farm, so that we
would not starve, Christophers Somali was getting better. What he said felt like a strange thing
to Luula, since where she comes from the family farm is a status symbol, and if a family couldn't
run it themselves, then they didnt really deserve a large farm.
However, she also felt that there was an opportunity here. Oh, do you think I could do
that, too? Work on your farm, I mean? It would make Luula feel less like she was staying in
their house for free, and besides a little extra money was never a bad thing.
Christopher considered her for a minute, then turned to his wife to have an English
conversation. They did not seem angry, so Luula had a good feeling about what they would say.
We think that that would be a good idea, Christopher nodded. Luula went back to
eating her breakfast smiling.
For the next couple of weeks, as she settled in, she learned a lot more English than she
expected to. She figured that it was from living around it and constantly speaking and hearing it.
This made her happy, because that meant that she could go home sooner rather than later.
Though she did enjoy it here, she missed the old familiarity of her village.
3 years later

~~~

Luula was sixteen now, and had been living in British Somaliland for the past several
years, ever since she had snuck out of her village so long ago. She had written to her family
several times, and had never gotten a response. She often wondered if they were mad at her or
not, or if they thought about her often. She thought a lot about them, thats for sure.

By this time in her life, she was fluent in English, and had been keeping up practice with
Italian, too. She also made sure to speak Somali more so that she wouldn't run the risk of
forgetting her first language.
Luula made money off the farm by working on it every day, which compensated for her
staying there, and also making a little bit extra. She saved this money in hopes of one day going
to Italy, her first destination on her traveling list.
But first, she needed to go back home. Her family was probably worried about her, but
they hadnt returned any of her letters since she left. She had promised that she would go back
as soon as she was fluent, and she intended to keep that promise. Even though her parents were
against the idea.
Christopher would be taking her back, and with the same horses as before. Luula helped
him saddle up the horses, as she had gotten a lot stronger in the past three years from working
on Christophers farm. It was once again early morning when they left, as it had been when she
had left her own family. She now kind of thought of Christopher and Catherine as her family, but
she knew she always had her true family to get back to.
She just hoped they wouldnt be too angry with her.
So, she and Christopher said goodbye to Catherine and the kids, and made their way
south, into the forest.
~~~
A week or so later, they made it back to where her village resided.
Throughout their journey the shrubs and sands had thinned out, giving way to more
rivers and trees. The salty smell of the wind persisted.
When they finally arrived around midday, Luulas first impression was that it wasnt as
green as she remembered. In fact, it wasnt very green at all. It was more of a dusty grey, mixed
in with the light brown of the dirt. It looked a lot emptier, too.
Christopher took a sharp breath, and turned back to look at Luula. She was confused.
Christopher, whats wrong? She asked, in good English.
Im not sure. You should stay up here while I look around, he told her. This only
increased her confusion.
But I want to see my family, she said.
I know, but youre going to have to trust me. Im going to look around first, he said
calmly. He dismounted the horse, tying it to a tree, and headed down the slope towards the
nearest hut. It was way quieter than it should have been.
Wait! Luula called. She quickly climbed down from her horse, and tied it as fast as she
could. I am going with you! She said, putting her hands on her hips. Christopher turned back
to her, and sighed.
I guess theres no stopping you? He asked. Luula shook her head. Alright. Stay close,

As they walked, she saw several large circles of grey dirt. She wondered what they were
supposed to be. They strangely enough reminded her of the day after a bonfire festival, when all
of the wood had been burned through.
An Italian woman entered from a nearby hut, carrying some laundry. Christopher
stopped to greet her.
Where is everyone? He asked. The woman looked at him in confusion. She probably
didnt speak English.
Italiano? Luula asked. The lady nodded. Luula then repeated Christophers question, in
Italian. She nodded with understanding.
They are gone, she said simply.
What do you mean? Luula asked. She was confused again, more confused than before.
Were you not here when the rebellion happened? She asked.
Rebellion? Luula tilted her head to the side. What was she talking about?
How long have you been gone, young lady? The woman asked, shaking her head. Two
years ago, maybe more than that, some of the natives here tried to start a rebellion. They started
with yelling, then they tried to force us out by burning the church. It didnt work, of course,
Here she laughed a little. Most everyone was shot, their houses burned to the ground.
What, Luula said, quickly growing very worried, but also angry, and sad.
Yes, our reinforcements came from the next village over. Once word got out about what
happened, all of the other villages stopped being so rude to us Italians. It was wonderful, but still
very tragic. A wonderful tragedy, she sighed.
Right. Well, my family lived here. Were they also shot? Luula glared.
Probably. Good day, the woman said, going back into her home. No, not her home. Her
home is in Italy, isnt it? This house here should have been Luulas home, her peoples home.
Luulas hands balled into fists, and she moved towards the ladys back.
Christopher held her bare shoulders, keeping her from going after the woman, who
hadnt noticed them. Christopher looked lost. What is it? He asked. Luula seethed.
They were shot! She snapped, switching to English. All of them! Everyone! All dead!
Luula was starting to yell, wrenching herself out of his grasp to pace back and forth. Some
Italian people poked their heads outside, and shook their heads at her antics.
Oh. I see, Christopher said, blinking rapidly. He looked very concerned, but Luula
didnt particularly care about what he was doing at the moment. She did pay attention when he
lightly grabbed her shoulders again to stop her pacing, though. You need to calm down, he
said. Take a deep breath.
Luula felt she had every right to be angry, but she tried to take a deep breath anyway. She
realized how little she had been breathing, and now her head was cleared with the rush of
oxygen. She forced herself to calm down, and it worked. Her shoulders dropped.

Now tell me exactly what happened. Why was everyone shot? Christopher demanded,
but politely so.
They tried to start a rebellion, to take back their land. I heard my parents talking about
it before, but I never actually thought they would do it She whimpered.
And they werent expecting the Italians to fight back so brutally, Christopher nodded
sadly. Luula narrowed her eyes at him. He was British, and his friends were Italian, so why
would he care at all? She wondered if it was from her own influence on his life.
So, where to? Christopher asked. Luula sighed again, dropping her suspicions. She
knew Cristopher by now, and had faith that he was a good man.
I dont care. I dont think anyone or anything that I could recognize would be here
anymore, she said. What she really wanted was to sleep this off, and hopefully forget some of it.
The chiefs hut normally near the center, should we head that way?Christopher asked.
Luula doubted that the chief she knew was still alive, though. The new Italian leader of this
village might be there.
She didnt say anything, and Christopher took that as a yes. He lightly took her hand and
guided her through the village. She felt numb, in both mind and body. It was not quite noon yet,
so people were still inside mostly, though they did pass several Italian people. There were not
many Somali people around.
Christopher knocked on the door to the large building, and waited. Fairly quickly the
door opened.
Come in.
Hello? Christopher asked. She walked in behind him, and the windows casted a faint
light through the building.
The hut was in fact inhabited, by an Italian man that Luula recognized. It was her
teacher, Alonzo, the same one who had taught her Italian, how to write, and read. The same
person who had encouraged her to leave. His black hair had grown, and it now hung close to his
shoulders. He looked a lot older than she remembered.
Luula? Are you back? He asked.
Along with me, Christopher said.
Ah yes, Chris! Its been a while! Alonzo pulled Christopher into a hug. He said it in
English, which confused her. Luula had almost forgotten that they were old friends, which made
her wonder.
You speak English? Why didnt you teach me? Luula asked.
I do not speak much. Ive been practicing, He answered. But Chris is better than me.
I am British, so yes, said Christopher. They laughed a little.
Wait, why are you in here? Luula asked. She had nearly zoned out again.

In here? Because I became the leader after the failed rebellion, he admitted.
Congratulations, Alonzo, Christopher said. Luula did not know how she felt about this.
It wasnt necessarily bad, because Alonzo was her friend, but it also meant he had something to
do with her family dying.
Ah yes, thank you. So, what are you doing here? Alonzo asked.
Im here to move back home. Is my house still here? She asked.
Um no. It was burned down, Im sorry, he apologised.
She sighed, and dropped her gaze. What am I going to do? She asked the ground.
Christopher seemed sympathetic to her problems, at least.
Well, you have a couple of options. You could come back with me, and live there, or you
could try to find a house and a life here. Christophers calming voiced helped Luula to think
clearly, and she thought carefully before she answered.
I dont know? I like working on your farm, I can make money, I love your family, but
Ive been waiting to come back here for so long. I think that I might stay here for a while. Ill
come to you if it doesnt work out, though, Luula spoke very quickly, but she was pretty sure
that this would be the right thing to do. It made sense.
Christopher nodded. Ill stay here with you for a little while. Help you to get everything
in order.
Ill help out, too. Its the least I can do after everything thats happened. Alonzo added.
Thank you both, Luula said. She didnt have many possessions, just one bag with a
couple of extra outfits, some food, and some money. Thats enough for now, she thought.
Youll both stay here the night, at least? Alonzo asked. Theres plenty of room.
That would be very generous. Thank you, Christopher said. Luula nodded. She was sad,
and that feeling would probably haunt her for the rest of her life. Everything she knew was gone.
But, this only made her more determined to rebuild her life, and make new memories.
The End?

Epilogue

Were here with Luula, possibly one of the most inspirational seventeen-year-olds of the
year! So, Luula, where were you born? The news reporter asked. The woman next to him,
Margret mightve been her name scribbled his words onto a sheet of paper.
I was born in Italian Somaliland, Luula answered shortly. A sea of very light brown
faces stared up at her, making her self-conscious. She wished Christopher hadnt chosen to leave
back to his home; she could use the support right now. She adjusted her skirt, and crossed her
legs.
Very nice, lovely place. Ive never been there myself, but Ive heard good things, the
man nodded. Luula watched as the woman next to him continued to write down what they were
saying. But you didnt always live there, correct? He pressed.
Yes, when I was thirteen I moved over to British Somaliland, she admitted.
I heard that you didnt tell your parents about this decision, commented the reporter.
She nodded, and he continued, Would you care to tell us why?
They wouldnt have let me, she said simply, shrugging and laughing a little. The
reporter laughed, too. The audience seemed amused. A camera flashed brightly with a popping
noise, making her blink. Black spots clouded her vision for a second or two.
So you, as a little thirteen-year-old girl, decided to go out alone anyway, he shook his
head, grinning.
I mean, I had Christopher, and I knew what I was doing, but yes, basically.
Alright, now to get a little more serious, he said, smile disappearing. You returned
there three years later?
Yes.
And Your village was, gone, lets say. Your family, too?
Yes. Luula frowned. Thats true. But they didnt just disappear, they were shot. Their
homes were burned to the ground.
Well, yes, thats correct. That must have been hard for you.
Very, yes. My family and I may have had our differences, but in the end We were still a
family. She nodded, as the recorder wrote it down.
And now we get to why youre here. You were all alone after that, werent you?
No. I had both Christopher and Alonzo to help me out, at first.
And Alonzo is?
My teacher. He taught me Italian, and was the one to convince me to go learn English.
He became the leader of the village after the rebellion failed.
Ah, yes. So this rebellion, any idea what triggered it?

Well, yes. Many people feel that the Italians have no right to our land, and many people
disagreed with what the missionary schools were teaching. My father was one of the main
supporters of the rebellion.
And how did this make you feel?
I never really paid attention their talk. I was only thirteen when I left.
And what were you feeling when you found out what had happened?
I was outraged, at first. Then once I had calmed down, I went numb all over. It was the
strangest feeling, like I would never feel anything again. It was wrong, so wrong, the way the
rebellion was handled. No offense to the Italians seeing this, but sometimes I wonder if we
would have been better off if the Italians had never come to Somalia.
I can see your point, but then you wouldnt have ever traveled, would you? You would
never have learned Italian.
Maybe, but I think that I still would have traveled. My parents distrusted the Italians
because they had been living with them for a long time. If that hadnt happened, then I think
that my parents would have encouraged me more, and maybe even helped me out.
left?

Thats fair. Well, as it did happen, what do you think would have happened if you hadnt
Well, I dont think I would be sitting here today, thats for sure.
Yes, thats probably right. So what happened after you returned?

Christopher and Alonzo helped me build a house, and after about a month, Christopher
left to go back home. Then Alonzo helped me look for a job.
Did you find the job you were looking for?
I wanted to be a translator, so no, not right away. First I was a tailor. I helped out with
dying fabric, mostly. Eventually I got enough money to get by on, plus some.
What did you do with this money?
I traveled around, not very far, but I was looking for a translating job.
And do you know how this landed you here?
Well, I guess the other people in my village liked to gossip about me more than I
realized. This one day, a reporter from Italy came to report on how our village was doing. As the
last survivor of the original village, a lot of fingers were pointed in my direction. She ended up
doing an article about me.
So this is not your first interview, is it?
No, its probably more like the third. That article made me kind of infamous, so more
people noticed me. The lady had written about how I wanted to be a professional translator. So,
a man in need of a translator came to offer me a job.

And you took it?

Of course, how could I not? It was everything I wanted!
Yes, and thats how you ended up in Italy, is it not?
After a month long boat ride, I did finally end up here.
How are you liking it? Is Italy everything you hoped it would be?
More or less. Theres been a lot to take in, in the last couple days. Everything is so full,
and theres almost too many noises, people, and sights to see. Ive been a little overwhelmed.
Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?
Its wonderful.
Did you get all of that, Margaret? Yes? Alright, folks! There you have it!The one and
only Luula! Look for this interview in papers tomorrow! Good night, Rome!
The End