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Chapter 1. Part B - Di.

L-loving (Book 1)

By Mrs. Di Ford Published 3 years ago 3 min read
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I moved to Prague when I was six years old. I was born in Kazakhstan in 1986, but my nationality and origin are Tatar. There are more than 130 nationalities in Kazakhstan, so it is quite common to see people from China, Korea, Ukraine, Russia, and other neighboring countries to be in the same class. During that period, my country was part of the Soviet Union, and speaking the Russian language was mandatory. My father only talked to me in Russian. Therefore it became my first language. When you picture me, you can imagine an Asian, looking Korean girl with an almond shape light blue eyes, pale skin, long brown wavy hair, thin nose, and look with a cunning sight.

My mom was out of the picture. All I remember is that she left when I was three years old. She was part of the orchestra as a violinist, and for some reason, she left my dad for a kapellmeister. I don’t have many memories of that time, but somehow I always get nervous when hearing violin music.

When I was five years old, my country suffered from hunger, corruption, and a total patriarchal regime. My dad didn’t want me to become another man’s property (because that’s how my country treated women at that time). He wanted to give me an education, equal rights, and better opportunities in life. He decided to flee to Czechoslovakia with me and one suitcase when the opportunity presented itself.

The best heartwarming moments from my childhood are the ones with my father. He took me on hikes and camping, taught me survival skills and what kind of mushrooms to pick. He taught me to play chess, and the English language, where there was no internet, and everything had to be done by hand and brain. He taught me the most important thing: how to be equal to men, not be afraid to speak my mind and strive for excellence and recognition among the best.

He never treated me like a girl, maybe because he didn’t want to or didn’t know how. He was mad if I was crying. He simly forbade that. I wasn’t allowed to cry from physical injuries.

This one time, I hit my knee pretty hard when I learned how to pedal and keep the balance on a big girl’s bike. I tripped and somersaulted in the air before landing in a dirty ditch. The pain was unbearable, and my vision got blurry. When I saw my dad coming to the rescue, I had to squeeze my teeth very hard not to let my tears flow. At that moment, I noticed that weird feeling of being proud of me in his eyes, the moment of acknowledging that made me happy.

He taught me how to swim and ride a bike and a horse, as long as I showed him strength and терпимость to pain. It might sound like he was a harsh man, but I loved him to the moon and back. He was my world, my hero, and my role model. I loved his stories about his childhood and living in the prairie with his horse for a while. I loved how he talked about eating lots and lots of chocolate everyday because of my grandma's job at the chocolate factory. Everything about him, I admired as an only child.

We struggled a lot financially in my teen years until he learned the language and started working independently with banks and financial instruments. He built his little empire, and by the time I was attending the British University in Prague, I was very used to not being worried about money. I forgot about those times when I had to break my piggy bank for us to have some bread for a meal.

I guess that we both became strong, as Tatar (or you can say Russian) immigrants in a foreign European country.

Now, when you can picture me, a seventeen-year-old beautiful girl, on my way to Vaclav square, by 22nd red and white Prague Tram to have sushi with my father.

To be continued.

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About the Creator

Mrs. Di Ford

Writer, Blogger, Influencer

Book "LSD - loving, stripping, dying" is based on true events.

I hope to find my reader, who can relate to toxic relationships, sexual assault, bdsm, losing a friend and eventually finding love for yourself.

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