Decoding the Cultural Maze

By Shilan Ghobadi

I never imagined that one day I would have to leave my hometown, Kermanshah, and start over in a city like Manchester. Life is full of surprises. I bought my ticket to Manchester on May 10th. At that time, travelling was difficult due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Many flights were cancelled, and we had to take a COVID test. Since my family had contracted COVID, I couldn’t properly say goodbye to them, which was very hard for me.

At Tehran airport, after standing in a long queue, checking in my luggage, handing over my passport, and getting my ticket approved, I boarded the plane. When I left my homeland and my family, it felt like my soul was leaving my body. I cried the entire way from Tehran to Turkey.At the Turkish airport, we were not allowed to board the flight because my eldest daughter had just turned five 20 days earlier, and my husband had not filled out a form required for passengers over five years old. I was left at the airport with my daughters and a suitcase, with no money. Since I didn’t know English or Turkish, the situation became even harder for me. I went through extreme stress, and the airport staff didn’t offer me any help.

Finally, with the help of a Kurdish-speaking man who was also travelling to Manchester—someone I believe God placed in my path like an angel—I was able to get some money and stay in a hotel until the next flight and a new ticket were arranged. However, since my family had no way to contact me, they were terrified, thinking I was lost.

On May 11th, I finally flew from Turkey to Manchester. Because my daughters had gone through so much stress and found it very hard to be separated from their grandparents, they were restless on the plane, crying a lot, and it was difficult to calm them down.

After a long journey, I finally reached my destination. This was the hardest trip of my entire life. And now began the shocks and surprises that awaited me. When the plane stopped, the passengers quickly stood up and rushed toward the exit, only to remain standing for a long time until the aeroplane door finally opened. This long wait while standing felt strange and exhausting to me.

After leaving the plane, we reached the passport control gates, where passengers were separated. Those with British passports had a shorter queue, while I had to join the line for travellers from other countries. At that time, I couldn’t speak a single word of English, and I didn’t understand the questions being asked of me.

After collecting my luggage, we finally reached the exit doors. After two years of separation from my husband and enduring countless hardships, we were finally reunited with joy. The moment Adrina saw her father, she ran into his arms, and I had a hard time separating them. She had suffered from depression after he left and had developed a deep resentment toward all men. She wouldn’t even interact with my brother. However, after that day, she felt much better, forgot about those difficult times, and began connecting with others again.However, my younger daughter didn’t recognise her father at all—she had only been a few months old when they were separated.

On the way from the airport to our home, we passed by a cemetery that, to this day, feels like paradise to me. The graves were beautifully adorned with flowers and decorations, as if the dead were preparing us to accept the next world.My next shock came when I entered British houses—small living rooms and kitchens, bathrooms without a water hose, and tiny rooms with large backyards. Most of the houses felt damp, making it harder for me to breathe.Manchester reminded me of the northern cities of Iran—green, always rainy. The cold, damp, and constantly rainy weather in England felt strange to me. I didn’t like the city’s red brick buildings; the uniform colour of all the houses felt overwhelming, as if they had all been built by the same architect with the same design.However, I loved the shops. In Iran, if you buy something, you can’t return it, but here, you can return or exchange an item within a month as long as you have the receipt. Tea is still the only drink I truly enjoy, but here, for the first time, I saw it being served with milk, which was interesting to me. In my country, tea is always drunk with sugar cubes. Most of the food here is fast food, and most pizza places only offer takeout. What fascinated me was that you could find restaurants from almost every nationality.Seeing people from different backgrounds living together peacefully was also something I found very interesting. Another thing that stood out to me was how kind and patient British people were. They would take the time to help me, even though I was a complete stranger.

From the moment I arrived, I spent four months trying to pass the theory test for driving, and after two years of effort, I was finally able to drive. The practical driving test was very different from what I had experienced in my home country. Back home, I got my license simply by performing a single driving task, like parking between two cars. But here, I had to drive for 45 minutes while being tested on various skills. After failing six times, I finally passed, and that moment became one of the most beautiful moments of my life. Getting my driver’s license was very important to me because, in Iran, taxis were cheap and always available. Here, however, due to the high costs, I had to rely on buses. For someone like me, who suffers from kidney pain, waiting in the cold for a bus often meant days of illness, hospital visits, and painkillers. Spending long hours in the hospital just to get pain relief was another challenge. Once, I cried in the emergency room from 10 PM until 8 AM, suffering in pain without receiving any medication. Only after that long wait did a doctor finally see me and prescribe painkillers. The doctors and hospital staff were very kind, but for someone like me, who was used to getting immediate pain relief in the hospital, this was a very difficult experience. Eventually, I preferred to endure the pain at home and take painkillers rather than go to the hospital. Unfortunately, the long delays in treatment and the continuous use of strong painkillers led to the complete failure of my left kidney. I am now on the hospital waiting list to have it removed in the coming months. Another major difference I experienced was in how illnesses were treated. Due to genetic reasons, my mother and I both developed thyroid cancer at the same time. We started treatment together, going through the same process. However, while my mother in Iran received medication and regular ultrasound checkups every few months, my treatment here consisted only of having the tumour removed from my throat. No medication was prescribed, and no follow-up checkups were scheduled for me. Being sick and going to the hospital here has turned into a nightmare. Sometimes, I wonder if they intentionally let hidden illnesses and tumours slowly destroy my body so they don’t have to spend extra money on my treatment through the NHS. And that thought is truly terrifying. Over the past four years, I have deeply loved and appreciated the British people because they helped me embrace a new life filled with challenges. My daughters attend a school where the teachers are even kinder to them than I am as their mother. At Emmanuel Church in Didsbury, I worked to learn English, and despite knowing that I was Muslim, Pastor Nick and his colleagues treated me with the utmost respect.

At Wythenshawe College in Manchester, I spent some of the best moments of my life alongside the most compassionate teachers and a wonderful manager. They supported me like family through all my struggles, helping me learn the language and develop new skills. I have made many friends from different nationalities. I truly don’t know how I would have managed to face my challenges and continue my life stronger than before without the kindness of these people. Now, I live in a country where I no longer worry about daily inflation or my daughters’ future.

Another major difference in England is the school system. In Iran, school runs from 8:00 AM to 12:30 PM, and no meals are provided. But in England, school hours are from 8:45 AM to 3:15 PM, and students receive a meal. In Iran, school transportation is affordable and available for all students, but here, parents must pick up their children themselves. Also, in Iran, it is common for children to stay home alone for hours while their parents are at work or shopping. However, in England, children cannot be left alone at home. Some kids even stay at school until 6:00 PM, waiting for their parents to pick them up, and sometimes, they don’t see their parents until the weekend. Another big difference is the number of passengers allowed in a car. In Iran, it is normal to squeeze multiple people into one car, especially children. In fact, some school transport services in Iran carry up to 10 children in a four-seat car, and no one sees it as unusual. Car insurance and vehicle costs are cheaper in Iran, and people don’t have to pay for parking permits or other extra fees. There is also no TV license tax in Iran. I have gone through all these challenges, and it took me time to adjust to them.