Nothing Is Too Big E-Book

Susan Knapp

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Nothing Is Too Big is about the power of possibility. Detailing the beauty and severity of life in Africa, The Middle East, Asia and Australia, it culminates in the creation of gratitude and compassion, and taking each day as a gift.
Susan lived through a train overturning in the jungles of Thailand, being held hostage in a bank in Africa, years of physical and emotional abuse, arrested in the Middle East and being separated from her young children for three years. But the purpose of this book is not woe; rather, it is intended to emphasise the wisdom that can be found in every moment and every situation life throws at you.
Through love, laughter, tragedy and joy, Susan Knapp's 'Nothing Is Too Big' will inspire you to heal those intergenerational wounds and activate your life's purpose, enabling you to stand on this earth in your truth, and project that truth to those around you.

Leseprobe

NOTHING IS TOO BIG

SUSAN KNAPP

CONTENTS

Prologue

Preface

I. The End of the Beginning

On my knees

Death and Gratitude

Beginnings

One way ticket

Devastation

Another Knockout

Multiple fathers

Chance encounter

Massage Madness

Arabian Beauty

Crash!

Gifts and nightmares

Tea with Killers

In my face

Nightmares

Blood or death?

Foot in Mouth

Buses, Babies and Borders

Held Hostage

African baby girl

Married by a drunk

One of great strength and wisdom

PhD in being fired

Blows to the body

Debt

Where IS my home?

Conquering fear

Injustice of Justice

Death saved our lives

II. My Year of Deliberate Intention

Rewriting the script

Beginners Mind

Conscious Intention

Putting the plan into practice

De-tox-Part One

De-tox-Part Two

Yoga

Detachment

Three Fatimas, Two Abdullah's and One Ali

What is Bankruptcy anyway?

Belly Dancing and Archetypes

Emotional Detachment

India

Forgiveness…

Time

Triggers

The first big test

Cultivating Peace

Test Number Two: Shattered Places

Life Happens Through you and not To You!

The Divine Law of Compensation

Soul Contracts with a narcissist

Pain as My Teacher

Test Number 3

Conscious education

Psychologist

Heaven and Hell-Manifesting the coolest life or the perfect nightmare

III. Realization of My Purpose

In2Ed Africa is born

Copyright (C) 2022 Susan Knapp

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Graham (Fading Street Services)

Cover art by CoverMint

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

Disclaimer: This book has been written as my version of my story. Other people in the story would more than likely have their own version, which they own. There is no blame because I have learned that It is what it is.

This book is lovingly dedicated to Tashania, Aaliyah, Marley, and Amalia. You came into this world as my teachers and guides. While the road has been bumpy, I wouldn’t change a thing. We have always been in this together and know that Nothing Is Too Big!

PROLOGUE

“Be the change you want to see in the world” Gandhi

This is a story about healing. About possibility and purpose. And while the first half may look more like a sequence of events that couldn’t possibly happen to one person, the truth is it is about the possibilities of shifting towards a miracle mindedness and manifesting peace and healing in oneself and others.

I am an international educator with over twenty-five years’ experience working around the world. One difference between me and other international school educators is that I make the country I am working in my home. I do not see myself in a country merely to do a job, I dig beneath the surface of the cultures, lifestyles, and environments to uncover rich new learnings that have shaped me as a person and also put me into some difficult life-changing situations. I have been held hostage in a bank in Nairobi Kenya, adopted two amazing children from the same country, survived a train overturning in Thailand, been held under country arrest in Qatar for a crime I didn’t commit. I have loved, and I have felt the excruciating pain of that love, of course in that pain I have hurt others. At 43 years old, I was 7 months pregnant and was fired from my job in a country that I could not get out of and could not stay in! I have lived through the violent hands of the man I married. The hands that nearly strangled me to death in a small room in Nairobi. The hands that later manipulated the judicial system of my own country to have me convicted as the perpetrator of violence against him. What I have also lived through is the power of possibility when you choose not to be a victim. It is through this process that I have now become the founder of a sustainable educational development in Africa that is transforming landscapes in many parts of the world.

I was born and raised in Adelaide, South Australia and currently reside there after 25 years abroad. It had been my dream to sit under a mango tree in Africa and write a book of my experiences. However, I had never wanted the story to be governed by an egotistical process that made me something other than what I was. So, the story came to life in Africa both on paper and in real life. When I got to Rwanda, I found that mango tree in my garden and the experiences of my life materialized on paper.

Rwanda is a country that was devastated by genocide in 1994. More than a million people were brutally slaughtered in just 100 days. The growth, development and vision of its president and its people show that in life nothing is too great to overcome. As my relationship with Rwanda has developed and solidified, I believe that we have a lot of parallels in our realities. We have both been massacred and we have learned through sheer force and determination the capacity to heal when you understand with every cell of your being that it is possible to forgive the unforgivable and that in doing so you create the energetic foundations of healing for yourself and those around you. I truly believe that it is only at this point that true prosperity and growth can occur for the greater good of humanity.

Rwanda and I have a strong energetic connection that I had never fully understood until I got back to Adelaide. Ever since I had watched Gorillas in The Mist when I was sixteen years old, I had always wanted to go there. During my early years in Kenya, I had tried many times, but the political volatility had made it impossible. Many years later on a dance floor in Qatar, I was approached by a tall man who wanted to dance with me. When I asked his name, I had not understood what he said, but I had clearly heard where he was from. That night I saved his number in my phone as Mr. Rwanda. In the months and years that followed this meeting, Mr. Rwanda would become the father of my child, the most abusive reflection of my inner wounds I had encountered in this lifetime, my travelling companion to Rwanda (where he had never lived but spoke the language fluently due to his upbringing in Kenya), Kenya, Malaysia, Qatar and eventually Australia. He was my greatest teacher because he was the catalyst that finally brought me to my knees with only two choices, live and raise my children or end it all then and there.

And while the book started its official formation under the mango tree in Rwanda, it, just like my life, took many twists and turns to finally reach its pinnacle. A large portion was organically written after I was fired from my job in Rwanda. Completely devastated and thinking I had done something antigovernment; I was terrified. Penniless, I sold my shoes to pay for bus tickets and travelled 39 hours on a bus with my two-year-old and Mr. Rwanda across central Africa to Kenya. Here I rented a room and bought a mattress. With Amalia in her travel cot, I sat on that mattress and began writing about all of the experiences I had encountered over the last twenty-five years in the forms of letters to my mum.

We remained in Kenya long enough for me to find another job, which was in Malaysia and actually stay alive despite his drunken attempts for that not to be the case.

The job in Malaysia had me working and Mr. Rwanda staying at home to look after Amalia. As I was to learn the hard way, he would always say that he was extremely happy about this living arrangement, until we were actually in the thick of it and he would revert to his default process. I was reading Rising Strong by Brene Brown in between teaching English as a Second Language in a language center in Kuala Lumpur. Brene encourages vulnerability (and don’t get me wrong, I love her work). What I didn’t realize at the time that I started my practice of vulnerability was that it doesn’t work on a narcissist. That healing came later and taught me that a narcissist will always use your vulnerability against you…and so the process continued. The emotional torment in Malaysia escalated. I would sob myself to sleep in the regular foetal position and wake up every morning feeling as though I had been hit by a bus. I would stagger through the days, applying mascara to the tears and face powder to the bags under my eyes. By the time I got home he would be nice again. We would go and eat out as is common in Malaysia and then the cycle would start again.

I solved this problem as I always did, by adhering to his wishes of moving to another country. This time it was to Australia, my country of birth, but where I felt I did not fit in and where I had not lived for twenty-five years. I applied for a visit visa for Mr. Rwanda, who was on cloud nine. Yes of course he was ok about having to stay at home and take care of Amalia, while I was at work in a small Catholic School in Far North Queensland. After all he would be in Australia. He was going to take care of me while I saved up the ten thousand dollars to pay for his visa and our life would develop as he had always promised it would. He would do anything for me and the children because he would be in Australia.

Within six months of living in Australia he had dragged me through a Far North Queensland court system where he had me convicted of domestic violence, for which as I write I am still on a five-year good behaviour bond for. I was in the process of officially applying for bankruptcy as a result of the happenings that had occurred when I finally managed to get out of Qatar. The bankruptcy completed in September of 2020. Within the first year of bringing him into Australia, he had managed to ‘lose’ his passport so he could not fulfill the requirements of his visit visa, which was that he would need to leave and re-enter every three months. His government refused to replace his passport as they had discovered the tactics, he had used to obtain it in the first place, and he was one hundred percent convinced (and told everyone he could find) that I had stolen it.

In September of 2017, my dad took ill in Adelaide. Mr. Rwanda refused to take care of the children so I could visit, as I could not afford to fly down with them. At the beginning of November 2017, I got a call saying my dad was about to die. I had just been paid and had enough money for a flight for Marley and I and we came to Adelaide. Dad died the following day. While his death was unexpected and terribly sad, I truly believe he opened a gateway for the children and I that actually saved our lives. By the end of 2017, the children and I had left Mr. Rwanda with the car, his women, and his lifestyle in Far North Queensland and we had moved back into my mum’s house in Adelaide. Believing I was broken beyond repair, that move actually created the landscape for healing and transforming not only my life, but the lives of my children, my friends, and our communities in Kenya and Rwanda.

Through all of my experiences I have learnt that nothing is too big. I have been very blessed to have received the insights from my life experiences that have led to my healing and the manifestation of an educational development in Africa that teaches children from low-income families.

So, I believe the essence of everything I have written can be summed up in this quote by Marianne Williamson…

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

We ask ourselves

Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

We were born to make manifest the Glory of God that is written within us.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same…”

I would love it if you decided to dive into the pages of this book and experience my undying love of Africa, my children, education, and life itself and, if you know your light may not be shining to its fullest capacity right now, there is absolutely no experience, situation, man, woman, or anyone who we can ever hold responsible for that, for that responsibility lies within all of us.

PREFACE

This book was largely inspired by the work of Brene Brown. She speaks of the power of vulnerability and of fear and failure. She explains that it is possible to get yourself back up when you have hit rock bottom and that if a person is brave enough, often enough, then they will inevitably fall.

Hearing that line alone resonated with me. I had taken more risks than most. I had moved to Africa. I had adopted children and then had two of my own. I had married into a different culture. I had built businesses in Kenya and Qatar and bought properties that had left me completely bankrupt, both financially and emotionally. I had moved my entire adult life away from everything I had been raised to believe was the way that things should be done.

After reading Brene’s book, I learned that sometimes we all need to accept failure at face value. I believe that failure is something that remains a cultural construct – i.e., an action that is seen as a failure in one context may be acceptable in another. So, whilst I had to come to terms with the idea that in some cases I had simply failed, I also had to question what failure was and really accept that I was doing the best I could with the resources that I had.

Brene uses the visual imagery of falling into the arena. In my mind, I often saw myself in a boxing ring, an umpire standing over me powerfully waving his fist as he counted to ten for me to be knocked out. I saw myself in that position over and over again during different periods of my life.

However, every time those images flashed through my head, every time that umpire was trying to count me as a knockout, he only ever got as far as nine. Sometimes not even that far. I always got back up and I always continued. And as I continued, I did so with new knowledge and understanding about myself and those around me.

Stories can be extremely powerful. They can perpetuate personal cycles of fear, self-doubt, and regret. However, opening ourselves up to our own vulnerabilities can also unshackle us from the pain of the past. Stories have the incredible power to help us rewrite our endings.

These letters encompass joy, fear, shame, failure and success and in writing them I have felt extremely vulnerable. They are my version of events and are told in the way that I have seen them and through my feelings and emotions. In telling these stories, I have taken ownership of my experiences and have explored boundaries, shame, blame, resentment, heartbreak, generosity, and forgiveness.

This is my story.

PARTONE

THE END OF THE BEGINNING

ON MY KNEES

December 2017…

“Maybe you are searching among the branches for what only appears in the roots.” Rumi.

I stepped into the shower cubicle. As I reached to turn on the tap, a spider caught my attention. Its legs were the thinnest of thin - so fine, long and dainty. But what I discovered during the time it took me to shower was the enormous strength and power that those legs held. All that spider wanted to do was reach the top of the tiled area and be on its way. The water flowed over my body, and I watched the spider on its endeavour, curious to see what it would do.

I don’t like spiders very much, and there was certainly no way that I was going to pick it up or remove it. Also, it was in no direct danger because the water was nowhere near.

So, I watched. I do a lot of my thinking in the shower and as such am prone to staying in for quite some time. This habit of mine was certainly not going to help the spider on its mission that particular morning!

The spider took a few steps forward and then stumbled backwards. Again, it attempted to climb the tiled wall, but just like before it slipped back. And so, it continued. A few steps forward and then a few steps back. Not once did it manage to take more than five steps forwards before tripping and stumbling.

As I watched this spider with its legs that appeared to be so fragile and delicate, I felt a surge of empathy for that little spider. That spider was just like me. My whole life had moved forward on legs that appeared to many as weak and not as purposeful as they should be. And then I would stumble backwards. I never stumbled as far as I stepped, although more often than not it felt as though the backwards motions outnumbered the forward moving ones. However, like the spider in the shower, though my legs may have appeared frail and vulnerable, in actual fact they were strong and powerful and there was never any other destination I would reach than the top.

I had conscious memories of being in a physical fetal position for the six years prior to meeting the spider in the shower. Subconsciously, I later realized that I had been energetically in that fetal position for a lot longer.

I remember being curled up in a ball on the floor, protecting myself from the physical and emotional blows that had become a part of my new normal. I had been crushed - physically, emotionally, spiritually, and financially.

By definition of the system, I now chose to live in, I was a bankrupt, single parent pensioner, who had been convicted by an Australian justice system that allowed itself to be manipulated by the one who had abused me. When he walked into that police station in Far North Queensland to file his claim of domestic violence against me, the policewoman asked him if he had ever been violent towards me. His response was, “Not in Australia!” Despite the fact that his statement had raised alarm bells to the police, I had been convicted in court and was currently on a five-year good behaviour bond as the perpetrator of domestic violence. This was against a six-foot two-inch African man who had been a semi professional boxer for the last twenty years.

I can’t remember the number of times I would lie sobbing in my fetal position and he would simply step over me to get to the fridge. He would stretch to put his plate of food into the microwave, whilst I lay there paralyzed, often until morning when I would unroll myself, apply foundation to my face and eyes to make them appear a little less swollen and head into work.

The spider in the shower and I actually had a lot in common. Every day our goal was to reach a higher point than we had woken up to. All we wanted to do was stand on those legs of ours and climb.

On that morning in the shower, I could easily have channeled the water to spray the spider straight down the drain, never to be seen again. But something stopped me. Whilst I was completely and utterly broken at the point the spider and I crossed paths, I had not encountered one single event that had made me want to swirl down the drain and disappear into oblivion. And I wasn’t starting now.

The spider and I were going up.

Both of us were twisting and turning through the navigational patterns of life, putting one foot in front of the other and balancing on legs that had carried weights never designed to be endured by a living creature. But somehow, we had done it! Our resilience had enabled us to reach the top of the shower recess.

I was born on the 12th of May 1970, in a small seaside hospital just outside of Adelaide, Australia. My parents had grown up in the same suburb and had attended the same primary school. As children, my younger brother and I loved looking at the photograph of both our parents making their first holy communion together aged about eight.

Years later, when my paternal grandfather was called by my maternal grandmother to come and repair something at her house, my parents met as young adults. My father had accompanied my grandfather on this trip and on that day reconnected with my mother.

At the age of twenty-one, my mother and father married on a cold August day, in a Catholic church in Adelaide. On their honeymoon cruise to Fiji, my father got seasick, and my mother got pregnant.

I can remember as a child of about ten sitting in the quadrangle at school eating my lunch. My friends and I would sit on the asphalt, our knees almost touching, squeezing vegemite worms through the holes in our salada biscuits and discussing our dreams.

My dream consisted of three very specific parts. The first was to travel to Africa, the second to braid my hair, the third to adopt an African baby girl.

As a family, our regular Easter holidays would usually involve camping or visiting the snow fields of Victoria. I remember having so much fun skiing and just being together. Visits to grandparents were always something we looked forward to. These were simple times that created lifelong memories.

This was the example that I wanted to set for my own children - to create memories that would last them a lifetime. This is something I believe I have achieved. The only difference is that their times have perhaps not been as simple as mine were.

As my university studies finished, I needed to decide what my next step would be.

One evening on the netball court, a teammate said she was heading overseas on a program that included Africa. As this continent had been a deeply embedded dream for me since childhood I didn’t think twice. I was in.

So, I left Adelaide and headed to Africa as a supervisor on a teenage exchange program. This involved approximately thirty Australian teenagers billeted with families in Nairobi and Mombasa.

I had always been a real homebody. I rarely slept at the homes of other people and took solace in being in my own environment. Therefore, I briefly wondered how I would endure the torture of being away from home, but as the trip was only for three months, I believed I would cope.

Twenty-five years later, my journey has taken me to places I could never have dreamt of. Life has put me in situations I would never have thought possible. I have lived in Africa, Asia, and the Middle East. I have been married and divorced. I am a mother to four children - two who did not come from my womb, but are the most cherished children alive and two, who to the surprise of many, I actually gave birth to!

Now, after leaving Adelaide a quarter of a decade ago, it is time to tell my story.

My story of how I was held hostage in Kenya while bullets were flying all around us outside.

My story of how I was held under country arrest in Qatar, banned from leaving, prevented from working, jobless, homeless, and seven months pregnant.

My story of my four children and my move to Rwanda, a country I had always dreamed of.

My story of the people who loved me and the people whom I have loved. This book will tell of my return to Australia and the cruel betrayals I encountered by the man I had loved.

Most importantly I will tell you about the lessons I have learned through this journey of life and my belief that everything happens for a reason. I ran away from Adelaide, the country of my birth and my Catholic upbringing, desperate to escape the hypocrisy and guilt. But it was not until I returned to Adelaide after twenty-five years of searching among the branches that I became fully aware of my roots and the healing of my soul could begin.

The day the spider and I met, my soul was not just broken, it was shattered. This caused many people around me to believe I was beyond repair.

Meeting the spider in the shower at the height of my brokenness was like my awakening. In the presence of the spider, I no longer felt imprisoned by the fear I had embedded in my mind. The spider came as my teacher that day. It came to show me the healing power of life.

This is the story of how nothing was too big for me to fulfill my dreams. It is also the story of how different life experiences confronted me, how I dealt with them and how the resilience I often thought was lacking, was what made me even stronger.

The essence of this book is that we never heal alone. When we learn and work through the steps of forgiving the unforgivable in ourselves and others, only then do we consciously manifest and expand on our true purpose for being on this earth at this particular time.

DEATH AND GRATITUDE

November 2017…

“Let go of your mind and then be mindful. Close your ears and listen!” Rumi

I stood at the lectern looking out over the faces of about one hundred and fifty people, most sitting, some standing and some not managing to fit inside the room, but determined their presence be felt in this space on this day. I had not written a script, but in my head, I knew what I was going to say. I had received many emails from the organizers in the preceding week asking for my script and had replied stating I would not use one, but they should not worry…. the organizers had done this many times before and everyone had a script…they were a bit worried, but stopped emailing, perhaps knowing it would be what it would be.

The lectern was positioned about three stairs up on a stage. My children, their father, mum and my brother’s family was seated in the front row. Next to me on the stage lay my dad. I could not see him as they had replaced the wooden lid on the casket. Next to the flowers on top sat dads favorite bronze statue of a skeleton (one from his collection of art deco bronze statues he had imported to see in his retirement). Pictures and memories created by his grandchildren and on an easel next to him stood an IKEA frame, the ones with all the individual photo frames meshed together. Inside each frame was an ink paw print of the dogs from the dog park with their name under their print. Their owners were in the audience celebrating my dad’s life.

As silver beams shone through the skylights at Centennial Park in Adelaide, I stood at that lectern without a script, dad in a wooden box next to me and I began to eulogize my father.

“All of you know I am a teacher and as such spend a lot of time telling stories. Inside those stories are many characters. The story has a plot and a setting and today we are at the end of that chapter with Ron’s physical life with us. Together we have formed the story of his life and he has formed that in ours. I would like you to all open your palm. With the thumb of your opposite hand, I would like you to push into your palm and wrap your fingers around the thumb. If you can hold yourself there until I have finished, you will see where this story is going.” Truth be told, having my own thumb pressed inside the palm of my opposite hand, thumb nail pressing in to create the physical pain which lessened the emotional pain, helped me not to lose control of my emotions.

I continued with some stories and many thankyous to the characters in this story. At the end there was meant to be a photo of dad sitting proudly in his regular striped polo shirt, arms folded across his chest and beer on the table. As the funeral director accidently forgot to put it up, I asked the guests to hold their enclosed hand towards the box where dad lay. I asked them to think of one thing they were grateful for about my dad, to breathe into that feeling and then together we all released that gratitude, and it was sent off to heaven with my dad.

As I worked through the grief of my dad not being around and through my daily yoga practice, I came to the belief that dad had died to save my life and the lives of my children. His physical departure opened a gateway for the children and I to leave the slow death of a domestically abusive relationship that over the preceding year (my first one back in Australia in twenty years) had left us physically, emotionally, spiritually, and financially bankrupt. In Dad’s death I saw life. His grandchildren and I were able to now be housed in the family home, where we were physically safe and where I was in a position to heal and rebuild.

I was so grateful to be able to recognize dad’s departure from the physical world as a miracle of life. Our relationship grew stronger, just in a different form and the lessons I have learned changed all of our lives.

BEGINNINGS

“Trust in dreams, for in them is the hidden gate to eternity. When you reach the end of what you should know you will be at the beginning of what you should sense.” Khalil Gibran

Dear Mum

Growing up, we were always so close. The strength you gave our family, along with your wisdom and generous spirit, was something that has enriched all our lives in ways that you will never know. As a child I hated leaving you. Sleep over’s were not an activity I would partake in. I just couldn’t bear to be away from you. Then, as my university studies finished, my life took a path that as a child I could never have imagined.

At 45 years old, as I sat under a mango tree in Rwanda, I could not help but wish you were here. How I would have loved to share a cup of coffee with you and talk about the life experiences we have had whilst apart. But because you were not there, I decided to write them down and tell you the things I would have told you in our everyday chatter. These are the stories that you would have experienced had we been together; but they are also stories that would not have existed had I not left Adelaide and explored the world in the manner that I did.

So, as you know, when I finished University, I left Adelaide. This was only meant to be for three months, but now it is twenty-five years later. My journey has taken me to amazing places and put me in positions I would never have thought possible.

Your little girl from Adelaide has seen and done many things. She has laughed and cried, but never once has she not wished you were by her side to experience the joys and the heartaches together.

Now it is time to tell you my story.

Love always Susan

ONE WAY TICKET

31st December 2014, Doha, Qatar

“If life were predictable it would cease to be life and be without flavour” Elenore Roosevelt.

Dear Mum

Today I put my three children on an airplane alone, for them to make a sixteen-hour journey to Australia. I cannot even begin to tell you the point of desperation I had reached to be in a position to even contemplate sending my children away. They are so young. Marley, five and Aaliyah ten. Luckily, my pride and joy, Tashania at seventeen was such a seasoned traveler that I knew she would be able to handle her little brother and sister on such a journey. Even with a change of flight in Abu Dhabi.

This morning, we woke up early and went to the Corniche in Doha. We took an old Arab sailing ship for a ride around the bay.

Being December, the weather was amazing. We enjoyed the scenery and laughed a lot. But the pain in my heart was indescribable. We took lots of photographs and after the ride we enjoyed breakfast together.

Eventually as evening fell, we headed for the airport. I was so worried that little Marley would not want to leave me. He was such a character, and his unpredictable behaviour could be challenging at times.

I checked them in. The airline attendant asked if I was sure they would be OK on such a long journey without an adult. I replied that they would be fine. As I looked at them, each clutching their hand luggage, ticket and passport, tears streamed down my face. My sweet Marley looked at me and said “Mummy, why are you crying so much?” Of course, that made it even worse! My little guy who I thought would struggle most with the departure, hugged me, waved goodbye, picked up his bag and carrying his own passport proceeded through immigration with his sisters.

It was at that point that my knees collapsed from under me. What mother does this to her children? I could barely move and needed to be escorted to the car and driven home. My only reassurance was that this time apart would only be for a month or two - little did I know at the time that was not to be the case.

With my children safely in Australia, I focused on my mission which was to get myself and my youngest daughter, Amalia out of Qatar. The twisted scenario that had engulfed our lives in this Middle Eastern country had sunk me to what I thought was rock bottom.

However, as time passed, it became clear that rock bottom is something that is time and place specific. Looking back, the fact that the children were in Australia was certainly an advantage. As the following year went on, I came to realize that nothing was more important than them being in the safety of the environment in Australia.

Love Susan

DEVASTATION

August 2015, Kigali, Rwanda

“The weird, weird thing about devastating loss is that life actually does go on. When you’re faced with a tragedy, a loss so huge that you have no idea how you can live through it, somehow the world keeps turning. The seconds keep ticking.” James Patterson

Dear Mum.

Devastation was not an emotion I was familiar with, until the day I received an email from Australia telling me that my children would not be coming to live with me in Rwanda after all. This was the first time in my life that I felt truly powerless.

When I opened the email on that wretched day and read such agonizing news, I was not to know that this day would in fact prove to be one filled with a new life perspective. A perspective on what it really meant to lose a child.

I had always planned to come back to Australia and collect the children. Now that I had settled in Rwanda, with a nice house, comfortable lifestyle and good job, the time had come for me to return for my children.

Then, out of the blue, the email arrived from their father, telling me that he did not want the children to come. I was utterly heartbroken. It is hard to put into words the complete anguish I felt when I received this news. My head spun and I didn’t know what to think or do.

Immediately after receiving that email, I had to attend a meeting with my boss. In our conversation, he started telling me different stories about members of the staff, most of whom were Rwandan. In Rwanda there are two categories of people. Before 1994, the categories were called Hutus and Tutsis. After 1994, these categories became known as the Diaspora and the Survivors. A Survivor is someone who lived in Rwanda during the genocide of 1994 and lived.

The teacher my boss told me about was a Survivor. She had been inside her house when the militia had barged in. They massacred her children, right in front of her eyes. In the commotion, one of her daughters managed to escape. After the genocide ended, this colleague of mine spent one-year walking around the country trying to find her child. She never succeeded.

This was a wakeup call. I was wallowing in my own self-pity, believing that I had lost my children, when in actual fact they were safe and well and being taken care of by a parent who loved them just as much as I did. This colleague of mine would have given anything to have that knowledge of her own children.

Therefore, I made peace with the fact that my children were in the place where they were meant to be and doing what they were meant to be doing. They were going to school, playing Aussie rules football and getting to spend valuable time with their father.

This led to reflections on the whole experience and of all the women working in Qatar and other Middle Eastern countries, who regularly leave their children so that they can earn money for them to eat and go to school. These women don’t see their children for years and often miss their entire childhood in the quest for money.

I, on the other hand, knew that when the timing was right my children would return.

As I write this letter, the children have now been away from me for almost a year. It has been one of the toughest challenges I have ever had to deal with. A dear friend once said to me that the greatest gift we can give our children is the gift of letting them go. A tough lesson to learn, but I have certainly learned the truth in it.

Love Susan

ANOTHER KNOCKOUT

November 2013-February 2015, Al Khor, Qatar

“If you set your goals ridiculously high and it’s a failure, you will fail above everyone else’s success.” James Cameron

Dear Mum

Qatar had been a country that we as a family had stumbled upon almost by accident. We were looking for a country that would offer two working visas to ex-patriots who were not both teachers. In addition, we were looking for an employment package that would provide us with free education for the children and a salary that would give us a good standard of living. We quickly discovered that Qatar could offer this and a lot more.

When I moved to Qatar, I only had one child. Tashania was seven years old and was to enter year 3 at the school I would be working in. In the ten years I was to stay in Qatar three more children would come into my life, but those are stories for another letter. This one is about the final months.

At seven months pregnant with my second biological child but fourth child in my family, a lady came into my office. She was holding small pieces of paper that had been sloppily stapled together and had various names handwritten in lead pencil across the top. She didn't even know who she was looking for, as she was new and the school was big,

I opened the letter which read that I should be present in the headmaster’s office at a particular time to discuss HR matters. My heart sank. I was about to have a baby. My children went to school based on this job. We were housed because of this job. We had visas to remain in the country because of this job. I had a bank loan that was based on the job and had two years remaining before it would be complete. And I knew what the HR matters were going to be!

Twenty-five other people had been given the same slip of paper on the day that I was given. Some had entered the headmaster's office before me and all of them came out knowing that they had been fired. For me, with my heavy stomach and being heavily committed to the job, I could barely stand, and a friend had to enter with me. I sat down and was told my contract was being terminated. The following day Tashania was to leave for her International Award Gold Expedition in Nepal. She was to enter her final year of school the following academic year and now everything had been turned upside down. I looked at the headmaster and told him the opportunities he had single-handedly ruined for my children and then I walked out of the office. I got to the parking and collapsed. What on earth was I going to do?

After crying for hours, I decided that I needed to get a systematic approach to dealing with this problem. It was December. The baby was due in March, and I was still employed until July, so I did have a bit of time to prepare.

Qatar has some very unique labor laws. It is uncommon for an employee to be able to change employment whilst in Qatar, unless they either get a letter of no objection from their current sponsor, or they leave the country for a period of two years. After this they are entitled to switch to another job. Qatar also has very strict laws on employing women as the main sponsor. In order to live in Qatar, you must have a work visa and all family members are then sponsored by the main visa holder. In most cases, as this is a male-dominated society, the main sponsor is the husband. Of course, for me that was not the case.

Luckily, I had a letter of no objection from my company, meaning I could change to another job. The new problem that arose was that I had been on a very high-level employment package and there were no other schools in the country that could match it. The biggest issue was free education for the children. Education in Qatar is very expensive and on a teacher’s salary, I would not have been able to afford having tuition deducted.