Problem book

Sometimes my head is just a problem book that I can only close when I go to sleep. How will my brother escape the charge of going in the army, where should my parents live now that they have no house anymore? Whenever I call my family in Syria, there are new problems. But there is also my new life in the Netherlands. Do I get my state exam before September? If I do not succeed, what should I do for a year? How do I pay my tuition fees later and how do I get to my own house? I’m sometimes tired of all those questions and problems. When I was in the refugee shelter a year ago, I had only one wish: a house. When the municipality of Arnhem proposed to make “dome couples” who live together in a house, I immediately said yes. It was a way for the municipality to quickly help refugees, for us a way to get the refugee shelter. Now, a year later, I wish I did not give up as a guinea pig. Our house does not appear to be temporary, but forever. If we do not take action ourselves, my house mate Achmed and I are old together. “If you’re lucky, you can find a house through our housing system within two years,” said a refugee employee. The verdict is strange. If I was lucky, I would not have been born in Syria, or would the war never be broken, so I would not have had to come to the Netherlands at all. It feels strange that in a rich, modern country like the Netherlands there are not enough houses. In Syria you can rent a house every day of the week. Not that people have money for it, but it can. Here people have money, but can not. Complaining as a refugee, it’s not possible. But sometimes, I’m just tired and I’m not talking about gratitude for a moment. Dutch people also complain, so I’m just really integrating.

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