About: Jemila
-
Name:Jemila
- Profile
- Born in Nigeria of Argentinean parents. Lived in Nigeria until I was 9 years old, moved to Spain briefly, then Argentina 4 years, then Italy 4 years, Nigeria almost 3 years, Lebanon 2 years, South Africa 1 year (got married), Argentina 4 years...and ready to be on the move again this year.
2007-12-31 17:36:20
http://
Posts by Jemila:
Some pix :)
Hiya Everybody,
How are you all doing? I’ve been away for a while, I only realized today how long it had been since i was last here 
I hope you are all well, I can see we have very many new faces around :) Welcome to you all.
I have put the Drama in my life on pause, I am trying to be positive and move forward in life. I have yet another move approaching in the next three months…breath…I am trying not to freak out 
I though I would share a few pix of my latest trip to Chile.
Mendoza, Argentina
Still Argentina, moving towards Chile
Almost there.
Caracolitos (little snails) Chile
Valparaiso View from ascensor (lifts) , Valpo is famous for them. Chile
Valparaiso, view from Cerro Concepcion.
Valpo’s Colourful house and grafittis.
View of one of Valpo’s Cerros (Hills)
Some of Valpo’s infamous stairs
Beautiful Con Con, North of Valparaiso.
Con Con, Chile
Moi and my better half
Con Con, cHile
Baquedanos, Providencis, Santiago de Chile
Plaza de Armas, SAntiago.
View from Cerro Santa Lucia, Santiago Chile
Quinta Normal subway station, Santiago Chile.
Avenida Providencia, Santiago Chile.
Sorry to have posted so many, I got a bit carried away
I hope you enjoy them, I took some pix and some I have to give the credit to my hubby, who took lovely shots
Heartbroken
Hello Guys,
How are you all doing? I hope well.
I am having a very hard time coping with the death of my Kittie Nenita, she had a debilitating heart condition that need to be repaired surgically, she went for her op on June the 10th, her surgery was successful and things seemed to be looking up, I left her at 11 phoned every 2 hours to find out about her progress, the vets were very happy, I went to see her at 18hs and she was well, a few minutes later she went into cardiac arrest and she was gone within a few minutes.
She is in a better place now and that i did all that i could to save her, she was operated by the best surgeon in Argentina…somehow all of this is what has been said to me in order to make me feel better, but somehow I can’t 
I am completely heartbroken, she was only 3 and a half months old.
My mom said that at leats I was there when she passed away, and that she is at peace now…but I am not.
I am sharing with you a pic of her when she was only 1 month old.
I miss her so much.
A question
Hello Everybody
As many of you know I am going through some daddy drama, this has gotten me thinking…actually all of you have got me thinking for months about my life and how my experiences affected who I am today.
I was wondering how my mom being an adopted child has affected my life, and I am not really quite sure.
Do any of you guys out there have a parent that was adopted as a Child? how did that affect you life?
I would love to hear your opinion on the matter, even if you don’t have an adopted parent, it might help me elaborate the effect it has on me
Thanks tons!
Irreplaceable Words?!?!
Hello Guys!
Away from my father drama for a while, I was thinking about the way I speak and my mish mash of languages that I use on a daily basis. I was wondering which words (and in what language) have you found to be irreplaceable, or even expression?
Words that you use so much that even your friends who do not speak the language have picked up?
Mine have changed quite a few times through the years, the one I have found no suitable equivalent for are in Afrikaans (what can you say my hubby and I live a bit isolated form the rest of the world, so inevitably we have created our own language )
This are some of my irreplaceable words:
Naar (Afrikaans, disgusts me or makes me angry)
Lus (a craving, I am in the mood for x)
kie or tjie (Afrikaans diminutive suffix at the end of each word, even if in English eg. dolletjie for small doll, which in Afrikaans would actually be Poppetjie)
Ag (g as in Scottish Loch or the Spanish J, meaning alas or no) Ag nee (Oh no!)
I also use a lot the south African expression Ag no man! or Ag sorry man! the word man is used indiscriminately for both men and women!
The other one is “Shame” but is SA they use it as a term of endearment or admiration even, eg Ag Shame what a beautiful baby.
I also love their concept of time If you say that a person is coming back now-now it means they’ll be right back, instead if you say they are coming back just now (also depends on the emphasis you put on just) they will only be back in a few hours!
I used to use a lot the Hausa expression Sannu! (greetings, or hello)
Yebo (zulu for yes)
Those are the ones I could think of!
My dad is here! Help please!!!
Hiya everybody
I start this note with the premise that my father arrived to days ago (I know some of you know already what that means to me) , yesterday I had to have a long conversation with him, where as usual I had to justify my mere existences, he said hurtful things towards my mom, (he did the same to her the day before, talking about me and my sis) I have to go see him in a couple of hours and I don’t know how I am going to manage!
I used to say my dad was toxic, but Ayako put it so nicely, he is a psychic vampire, he sucks me dry and demands I enjoy my time with him!
So I hope you will forgive my foul mood, I am amazed how much I change around my dad, all my negative aspects seem to come afloat, no matter how much I try to be normal or just nice I can’t seem to pull it off. The worst part is that I know that every conversation we have he is judging me, even when he doesn’t say anything, he thinks I am pathetic, because I am like my mother…he makes me feel so small, almost insignificant and I don’t know what to do! Because, no matter what I am always hoping to have his approval, I would give anything to once feel that it is ok to be myself, and that I am not pathetic and sad and all those things that I see in his eyes when he looks at me.
I feel so stupid writting this, after all I am 27, but around him I feel like I am 9 again.
I know that I have to make peace that he won’t change and that all I can do is move on…but somehow the knowledge of it doesn’t help me heal…and I don’t know what to do with all this pent up sorrow and sadness, even if I always talk to my family about and they help me, it never seems to go away…
Sorry for coming to you all with this, is just that I feel like a could cry for a year (and I probably will, seeing as how I have already started) and I just needed to tell someone. I would appreciate a few words of encouragement from you guy, I really need them!!!
Thank you for listening,
Jemz
Airport Horror Story
I was wondering if anybody cared to share their Airport Horror story
Mine is the following:
I was moving with mom from Argentina to Italy, we were very short on money so we took the cheapest flight (this was 1994) Aeroflot, (russian airlines, for those lucky enough to have never travelled with them ). They told us that it would have quite a few stops, but we didn’t mind.
Our journey begun on the 6 of June, we departed on time from Ezeiza (Argentina) quite late at night, our first lay over was Salvador de Bahia (Brazil) for 2 or 3 Hours; we arrived at 4 in the morning so the airport was closed all we had was warm water to drink and we were confined to a small area of the Airport. Might I add ad this point, that I had pointed out to the air hostess that there was no water in the bathroom (she assured me it was coming…?!) When time came to get back on the plane we got onto the bus, when the door closed there was a terrible stench (we couldn’t make out what it was) once on the plane, the smell persisted, and it was even stronger, everybody started looking at these young Brazilian guys that had borded, the smell came from them!
They seemed completely oblivious, people started getting very agitated, the smell was unbearable, after a few minutes Airport police came on board and started checking papers…long story short, we where taken down, made to recognize our luggage, after almos 3 hour delay, we found out that they were carrying drugs and they had rubbed something disgusting on them to cover the smell from the dogs.
We finally left, towards the Salt Island (small islands of the coast of West Africa), we again departed late…this leg was completely uneventful.
We Arrived to Algiers (at which point the bathrooms were disgusting!!!!!) it was very early 6 or something, the first thing we did was run to the bathrooms…to discover they didn’t have available bathrooms for women! We then proceeded to hijack the mens, which was unacceptable to Algerian sensibility, they eventually gave us a latrine to use.
Apparently at tha point there were very many Russians working in Algeria, so when the plane departed quite a few of them got on, to my amusemente, I discovered there wasno seating for them, so the stood or sat in the passage way the full 6 or 7 hours to Moscow (about a dozen of them) .
We finally arrived to Moscow, with almost 8 or 9 hour delay, we were locks (padlock, huge chain and all) in a small section of the Airport, the soldiers were looking at us through the glass doors, like monkeys in a zoo. By this point you had people in rages over their lost coonections etc. Finally we got onto the plane to our final destination, Rome, we got there without major hickups.
We landed in Fumicino, 60hs later, the 9 of June!
My ears were forever spoiled, pressure has become a bit of an issue!
So, this is my horror story. :D What’s yours?
What do you think?
Reading the answer of my previous post made me think I find communicating with my dad has become more of an obligation than a pleasure in the past couple of years.
We cannot seem to agree on anything, not even the mundane, but the worst part is that for 15 years I have begged him to work at improving our relationship to no avail…I gave up about 3 years, and accepted that this is all I would ever get from him, made my peace and moved on. Now that i am busy thinking and building my future, that I haven’t got time or energy to delve into the past, HE WANTS things to improve.
He will not let me be, the more he pesters me the more irritated I become. I always thought it was never to late to make amends, in a way it, but it is late for him to expect and demand from me a change…now he wants more…
I Love him dearly, but I wish he would just accept me for who and what I am, and the relationship we have will not change much, he has decided to late.
Do you think I am wrong? …many times I find that I do things out of guilt, or when I don’t I feel guilty…is it awful of me to be to worn out from trying…? Am I “allowed” to want to think of my family (my husband) and leave the painful past behind?
——————–
P.S Sorry about the double post on woman’s day .
8th of March, Woman’s Day!
To YOU Phenomenal woman out there I dedicate this Phenomenal poem by the wonderful Maya Angelou.
Happy Woman’s Day!
PHENOMENAL WOMAN
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say,
It’s the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care.
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.
Trouble Communicating
hello everybody,
I was talking to a friend a few months ago, a fellow TCK, he comes from an Argentinean family, but his family moved to Irak when he was a kid, then to France and then to Nigeria where he attended the French school. He is severely dyslexic which made his life hellish…to say the least. The thing I found the most “worrying”…for lack of a better word, is that he cannot communicate properly with his parents…they do not speak French and his Spanish is difficult, so is his and their English.
I was wondering, do any of you guys have trouble communicating with your parents? I mean not only on a daily basis, but on a deeper level, do they REALLY understand you when you speak, the more intricate depths of “your” language, the one you feel in, the one you cry and are miserable in?
Anybody in Chile?
Hello everybody,
I’m off on a scouting trip to Santiago, Chile. I was wondering if there are any TCKs in the area at the moment? Or anybody who has lived there recently, any advice?
I live in Argentina, so no, it isn’t all that adventurous, I agree but still local input is always great.
Thanx
Love Jemz
Y en español?
Hiya everybody,
Brice, that was a fab idea to have a thred in german…I wish I could speak some.
So I was thinking…cuantos de ustedes hablan español? Hay alguien de Argentina?
Charlemos…o platiquemos, como ustedes prefieran un rato
Besos
Is it just me?
Hiya again
I was just wondering, does planning on taking a holliday (that implies travelling, by plane, long distance bus, faily long car ride, etc) make you anxiouse too? I am curiouse to know if this is just my personal psycho mind playing games with me or is a general feeling?
When I compare myself to my husband, who was a first time traveller when we met, and his desire to travel to see, to see the overwhelming joy that it causes him to see new things and go to new places…and then I look at myself…
It’s funny beacuse my trips go like this:
A month before we travel, I cannot sleep properly (not that I ever really can). My heart pounds at 200km an hour, I have minus anxiety attacks, I am constantly expecting things to go wrong, cannot cope with them when they do…cry at the airport even if I know that I am going to be back in 2 weeks…get on the plane and my holliday begins…I am relaxed and it is even enjoyable for the first week…and then I start again…even worst this time…I shouldn’t enjoy this situation because it is going to be gone in a week…shouldn’t be with my friends, because I won’t see tham for a long time and it is going to be difficult to cope being away from them again…and all sorts of sadness and drama comes over me!
I mean honestly, I hate myself on holidays, you can just imagine people near me
So, I really try hard to avoid travelling, I either move country, or I stay put.
Let me know if I am alone or not
Hello everybody :)
Hello everybody,
You have no idea…(what am I saying…you do) what a relief it is to know that I am not the only freak running around in a world that I don’t understand and that seems no to understands me, but that my issues are real and belong to many other people in similar situations. I apologize in advance for I don tend ramble…so this is probably going to big quite long, but please do bear with me
My name is Priscilla Jemila Modesti, I am 27 years old. Both my parents are Argentinean, born and bred in Argentina, both white. I was born in 1980 in northern Nigeria, in the city of Kaduna, and so was my sis.
My parents divorced in 1987 and my father moved to another city 200km, the then newly built capital Abuja. The divorce it self wasn’t sooooooo traumatic, we still saw him on weekends and thing proceed quite smoothly. My childhood years were blissful, I had my friends, my cats, our dogs, our huge garden with radiant trees, my life was like a Kellogg’s add…divorce and all.I need to point out something before I proceed in the tedious story of my life
My father is the son and grandson of Italian immigrants, he had huge issues with the whole Argentine identity thing (quite unusual for his time, seeing that Argentina is made of immigrants) so he didn’t allow my mom to teach us spanish, he never ever brought us to Argentina on holidays, he didn’t allow us to listen to music in Spanish…NOTHING…so frankly Argentina to me was as home as china could have been.
Going back to my story, in 1988 my mom decided that we should leave Nigeria, seeing that at that time there wasn’t really good schooling for expat kids (because that is what I was unfortunately) beyond my age, most of my friends were being prepared to go off to boarding school. So I spent an entire year at home learning Spanish.
The horrible date finally arrived, when i had to leave my beloved nanny, my cats (that had a horrible end, because my dad couldn’t be bothered to take care of them), my dog, my house…and off course my dad, who stayed over, who is still there.The plan was to go to Spain, my fathers business partner is Spanish and they were thinking of opening a branch over there. We were supposed to see him 2 o 3 times a year.
As the saying goes, if you want to make God laugh, make plans….Well, the week after we left, my dad lost his job…long story…so we were left penniless in the middle of Madrid, my mom was going thru severe depression, and I was taking care of my sis…it was the WORST time of my life. I think partly it was very traumatic because my life had been very safe and comfortable, suddenly we had nothing.
My father scratched a few pennies together and packed us off to Argentina, were a further miserable years followed, one because we were very tight with money, my fathers family was horrible to us (my grand dad had multiple sclerosis, so he couldn’t help), my mom is adopted and her family is horrible. so we were all alone, my mom’s depression continued for a further couple of years. I was a mess, so was my sis, we didn’t see my dad for the first 2 years, and then 1 a year (I cannot tell you what that did to our relationship) My mother asked advice to a child psychologist she was seeing and she recommended us leaving to look for a better future.
So off we went to Italy 1994, my mom and I, my sis went to Nigeria to be with my dad (she and my mom had a lot of issues) she was supposed to stay a year, but my dad decided to send her to us after only 5 months.Things seemed to improve when we were there, we were in small village that my mother had worked in back in 85/86 (because, believe me, this is the abridge version of things)I started school with my poor Italian, made friends, things started to look up, my mom was completely out of depression, my sister joined us and things looked good for the first time in years.
After six months I started having issues with school, I couldn’t get up in the morning, couldn’t study, couldn’t concentrate. I finally dropped out of school after a few months my mom got me to a therapist where I was diagnosed with depression, it took me 4 looooong years of therapy to come out of it by the end of it, the resolution was that I had fallen into depression due to the fact that the loss of Nigeria had been so traumatic and Argentina had been the only thing I could hold on to, when I left that my mom just couldn’t cope anymore. The only thing left for me to do was to go back to Nigeria.
So after many trials and tribulations, over a year long with my dad being an asshole the entire time we finally convinced him to allow us back. It was 1998, I was in a serious relationship…does it happen to you guys to, life moves at a different speed, everything is quicker and more serious faster, and the best things happen when you are just about to leave?!!!!Anywayz, I am not sure how, I convinced my parents and my boyfriend to move to Nigeria with me (you must take into account that he was 21, Italian and very attached to his momma) well, after a few months of tribulations he finally came down to Nigeria, were he stayed only a couple of months and left and broke my heart and it took me 6 years to recover (I get attached to people in an almost psycho form :))…
My experience in Nigeria was tainted by my failed relationship, by the fact that my dad made sure that things were as tough and unpleasant as possible, but I believe they were mostly tainted by the fact that i had gone back expecting to find myself as I was, before I left…but I know now that is impossible.I managed to finish my secondary school studies, got my O and A levels, and I was 20 and needed to leave to study, my dad wouldn’t let (he had the financial power) me go to South Africa to study said it was to dangerous…wouldn’t let me go to Egypt. England was out of the question, my options were Italy (were I had sworn I wouldn’t go back) or Argentina, and my memories were very unhappy.
So I decided to go to Lebanon (my friends were mostly Lebanese and they had influenced me greatly). Leaving Nigeria wasn’t so tough, somehow… you get used to it…it hurts all the time, so you don’t feel it anymore.Jannuary 2000 Lebanon was good, unfortunately EVERYBODY in Beirut has a cousin a brother or they themselves were born, had lived somewhere in West Africa, which made moving only nearly impossible…after a few months my heart started aching again.
My mom and my sis had been with me all along, soemhow following me thru my aches and pains, and “my search…”
I finished my pottery and jewelry studies and after almost 3 years I was on the move again.This time to South Africa, I had become very good friends with this south African guy, we wrote 3 or 4 times a week 7/8 pages long emails, talking about ourselves, music, movies, culture and what have you, he had told me so much about SA, that I took a chance and left Lebanon without telling my dad, Sept 2002.
My friend picked me up at the airport, I stayed at his grams house, well a year to the day I arrived to SA we were married
I won’t go into details, but again we left (my mom by then had joined us and my sis was in Argentina).
So since Dec. 2003 we have been here.Maybe I should have written more about how I have been coping thru the years with my TCKness but I felt I should tell you my story.
I know that it comes across that I am very angry at my dad, and it is more so now, because his annual visit ended 4 days ago so all my issues which lay dormant for most of the year were reawoken, and haven’t gone to sleep yet.
I love my dad dearly and I think that is what makes it so difficult, and he loves us to bits and pieces.
My family dynamic is funny, my mom myself and my sis are like a pack, us against the world, it has been tough on my husband but I think he has managed quite nicely
Please do let know what you think. I am sorry to have kept you so long and thanks for having read it trough, sorry for my slight dyslexia, it sometimes makes reading my stuff difficult
Thank you all
-
Top Commentators
- Ayako (690)
- Cynthia (506)
- Uncle Dan (488)
- miyon (428)
- kristine (356)
- mairabay (260)
- MsMerising (258)
- mmmmmm (249)
- Isa (219)
- marie (219)
Polls
Loading ...