Chocolates To Afghanistan

• Anna Auer, Grade 7, Eden Marine High School
• Short Story
• 2013

Finalist in the 'Dream Big 2013' competition

“Apparently they eat only chocolate, there’s enough for everyone!” I said to my parents just before I left Afghanistan. I’m twelve, unsure where my parents are now. They only had money for me to leave. I’m living in a hostel. When people discover I’m Afghan, they don’t like me. I’m an outsider. My name is Mitra.
At least I don’t have blistered or muddy feet any more. Now I can feel the padding of my six-month-old op-shop Nikes. First day at school. I hear birdsong along the footpath, glad it’s not bombing instead. Yet I still look longingly through the window of “Basserdorf Schokolade”. I almost taste the sweet chocolate sensation in my mouth. I walk on.
Entering the school, the sea that is playground noise hits me. I navigate the swell, into the building. I see a boy, about to be hit. I tap the bully. He swivels to face me. I stare stonily into his eyes. “Stop it. Now!” he says. I continue gazing. He glances at his friends and walks away, not looking back. The boy smiles thankfully. I say where I’m from, but he doesn’t understand. Realising I’m not Swiss, he points to himself and says "Wulf". I smile and do the same. I say “Afghanistan” after looking at my tourist shop German phrasebook . We spend quite a while in my phrasebook, happily deciphering pieces of conversation.
“We have a new student today” says the teacher, according to my phrasebook. “His name’s Mitra. Mitra is a refugee.” A boy asks; “Isn’t that a terrorist?!” I don’t know what ‘terrorist’ means, but I guess it isn’t good. I find out later the boy’s name is Hans. In Art, I draw my Nikes. “People’d pay for that!” exclaims Wulf, gesturing to the canvas. I look at him in disbelief. I think about chocolate.
After school I ask Wulf (with the help of the phrasebook) if he’ll come to sell the picture. He agrees. On the corner nearest the chocolate shop, a woman buys my picture! I get 20 francs. I ask if it’s enough for chocolates. Wulf smiles and nods. We race around the corner and open the door. I buy two Lindt chocolates. I bite. Bliss. I’ll send one to Afghanistan.
Sport ends. I take my Nikes and chocolate from my bag. Hans appears. Before I can do anything, he runs off with my chocolate. I yell at him. He jerks to a stop, turns like a sly fox and points to my Nikes. Desperate, I slip them off and hand them over, snatching my chocolate. As Hans saunters off, Wulf walks over. We are silent for a while. Wulf says, ”I’ve got an old pair you can have.” He gestures. I grin. We go to his house after school. Wulf carries out a pair of green Nikes. I smile, putting them on.
Posting chocolate to Afghanistan is expensive, but worth it.
The stamp has green Nikes on it.