The Waves of the Mekong River

| This is the 213th story of Our Life Logs | I was born in Laos in 1964 to a family that already had two little girls: Akela, 4, and Vatsana, 2. My father had so wanted a boy, but alas, I was girl number three. My mother told him not to worry, for the next baby would be a boy to carry on his proud … Continue reading The Waves of the Mekong River

More Than the Struggle

| This is the 192nd story of Our Life Logs | I was born and bred in Lagos in the late 80s, growing up with four siblings. More specifically, I hail from Ini, Akwa Ibom in Nigeria. My childhood was a long-term nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from. My father was very violent and abusive, so I never had a chance to enjoy being young. … Continue reading More Than the Struggle

Life as We Know It

| This is the 183rd story of Our Life Logs | My mother used to say that struggle is a person’s middle name. People are always struggling, if not physically then for sure mentally. I never took her seriously until I became an adult and experienced it for myself. I was born in Bahawalnagar, a small village near Bahawalpur city in Punjab, Pakistan in 1977. My … Continue reading Life as We Know It

Through the Darkness

| This is the 178th story of Our Life Logs | The car was gone, and all our things were destroyed. I stood in front of our rented house and panicked wondering what to do. We didn’t have any insurance. All that we had was gone, swallowed up by the flood. Up until that moment, I thought I could handle any hardship. But this one threw … Continue reading Through the Darkness

The Way We Conquer

| This is the 174th story of Our Life Logs | November 23, 1972. Morning— What has happened to my father? Where are you taking him? Why isn’t he talking to me? These were the questions of a nine-year-old boy, the eldest child in the home, unaware of the coming hardships he might have to face after his father’s death. This is the story of … Continue reading The Way We Conquer

Until the Tears Dry

| This is the 162nd story of Our Life Logs | When I was born in Brookline, Massachusetts in 1938, I weighed about the same as a lobster roll. Okay, I’m exaggerating. I weighed a little over two pounds. I was so premature that no one thought I would survive, but God had different plans for me. My parents were Jewish immigrants from Poland and Russia. … Continue reading Until the Tears Dry