They had a wonderful childhood in Oude Pekela. The couple Morvarid Osmani and Reza Haraji grew up there in the asylum seeker center, which, to their sadness, has disappeared. “I miss it,” says Haraji
The asylum center no longer exists, it was closed and demolished in 2017. What remained was just a sign. They can have it, from mayor Jaap Kuin, who will hand it over to them in wrapping paper on Friday. Bits of paint have peeled off, but they are still happy to have something tangible from their old home.
It is the sign they saw almost every day between 2000 and 2007. “It may sound crazy, but it was the best time of my life,” says Reza Haraji (31). For a moment he is back in the village where he was born ‘for the second time’ and where he met his girlfriend Morvarid Osmani (29) for the first time.
Girls teasing…
They now live together in London, where Haraji has completed a prestigious training course in the craft of clothing making. He passes on the professional knowledge through their company International School of Tailoring, which RHaraji runs with his wife.
Haraji had lived in the asylum center since he was eight. Osmani came to Oude Pekela as a new class when she was seven, he remembers. The whole class was curious who those children were. Haraji remembers the first time he saw her: “She was wearing a purple coat and staring at me all the time. I thought: what does she want from me?”
The relationship only started years later, after a birthday party of a mutual friend, who was also staying in the asylum center.
The Yogurt House
They had a happy childhood. And they cherish warm memories of the place, the children around them, the teachers and the COA staff: “As a child you don’t notice much of the worries.” Yet there was also tension every week when the mail arrived. Osmani: “As a child we were allowed to pick up the mail. It could contain news, for example that you had a status.”
The seven years flew by for the duo. The asylum center had its own secrets for the children. Like the fence in front of the forest, which you were not allowed to jump over. Osmani: “Of course we did that.” Haraji: “That was the kissing spot.” Now that they’re back, it seems a lot smaller than it was in their memories.
They know that there was sometimes a lot of fuss in the village around the asylum seeker center, resulting in riots. Haraji: “But a few years later we were friends with the people who were there.”
“We never really noticed it,” says Haraji. Not even when they went to Dollard College or Hendrik Westerschool. “I remember that we had to play volleyball against the Feiko Clock School. They always seemed much older and bigger than us.” Osmani remembers how proud Master Schipper was when she got high grades.
Return?
It was mixed feelings when they heard that they could stay. Osmani: “On the one hand you are of course very happy, because you can stay in the Netherlands. But on the other hand, it also means that you have to leave the asylum center, the village and everyone who lives there. You lived there for seven years. And then you enter a new environment where you don’t know anyone.”
No, they never forgot Pekela. “A friend recently jokingly said that I could set something up on the old site,” says Haraji. It sticks. “Maybe I will buy it in ten years to develop something social there.”