Windrush - My journey
Mia Sanders, 11
Headley Lane Primary School, Bristol
As I stumbled up the rickety gangplank, trepidation beat through me rapidly, tackling my ever-growing spark of excitement. My stomach churned like the swell of the ocean as my head span. Happiness for new beginnings bubbled through me, but sickness for leaving my beloved home crippled me. The towering vessel loomed over me like a colossal monster ready to engulf me. People bustled around me: noise shattering my ears. With one steady breath and a few uncomfortable nudges from nearby shoulders, I slowly ascended the plank with one last wave to the swaying palms and golden sands.
The gentle sway of the floorboards beneath me sent my gangly legs shaking violently. My dishevelled clothes felt so strange up to the zoot suits the men wore. I was coming to London to find a job, and that’s it! Icy tendrils slithered down my back as I took in my new surroundings. Condensation hung like a thick blanket in the air and bulky bunk beds lined the oak walls. A cascade of people entered and my heart flipped, this was just the beginning…
The ship was huge. The biggest liner I had ever seen. I figured that the first night was always the worst: how right I was. The blood-curdling nightmarish roar of the engine thrummed through my fragile body, jerking me from left to right. An anxious lump settled in my throat and a hollowed pit sank to the bottom of my stomach.
This was only temporary, I repeated through my mind. Distant murmurs from hushed voices seemed to deafen me. My breathing was ragged and sleep felt far out of my grasp. When I eventually fell into a disturbed slumber, memories of home trickled into my dreams like a quiet waterfall of grief.
An entire month passed by before we reached London. As I wearily descended the plank and stepped my first step onto a British pavement, a feeling of triumph encircled me. Rain dripped down my wide-eyed face and grey clouds hung above like a solemn barricade from dreamy, blue skies. Trembling I placed down my bag in my new home: Clapham Deep. I was met with despair and excitement, both battling together like my heart was an arena.
After searching for an appropriate job for a fifteen-year-old girl, I found an immense, polished building with monumental pillars. It shone like a star in an inky sky. It smelt of burning metal and was named: The Royal Mint. I had no clue what it meant but I continued to tip-toe inside. I met a tall, dainty man who labelled me Penny Presser and guided me to a metallic machine. He taught me how to work it and after some tries, I was pressing pennies as fast as a bullet. Although I missed my home desperately, a constant ache in my chest, I’m ready to face diversity and call London my home.