The Terrorist the People Kept?

By Terror Experience

This is a memoir about accusation and hatred that went a long way. Many people thought it was all true but my book tells the true story. Accusation included terrorism, rape, robbery, etc. it was based on lies that nearly drag the writer down. The writer suffered immensely as a result.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: Jan 30, 2014
• ISBN: 9781493140565

Terror Experience

Terror Experience was born in 1983 in Freetown, Sierra Leone. Born by a Nigerian mother, he moved to England as a minor and was adopted by West-Sussex Social Services. He studied I.C.T at East Surrey College Redhill and graduate in 2003. He now lives with a partner and two children – Howard and Kayla in Surrey, United Kingdom.

Book preview

CONTENTS

Introduction

Social Menders

Work And Study

Friends And Girlfriends

Driving

In Love

Health And Emotions

Law And Order

Jobs

Christmas

The New Year

Family Life

Taxi Driving

Paedophile

Dirty!

Terrorism

Authorities

ABH

Racism

Benefits

My Faith

The Future

Magical Powers

Leadership With Integrity

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to all Organisations, Charities, Human Rights Groups and Children Services that are working hard for safe keeping and Health Care of children all around the world.

And also to my Family, Howard and Kayla, I love you dearly. My mother, the system doesn’t allow me to see you and I hope I shall see you one day, hopefully you will be alive for me. I care about you and I will always love you.

Finally, to my readers and friends, please do not let words drag you down—you are beautiful and unique.

Terror Experience

INTRODUCTION

M y friends and people do call me Terror Experience, and so many other names they like to say. I was most often called Terror Experience as I look like a gangster but a lovely guy. I am somebody who likes to banter and have a good laugh. It takes nothing to have a good laugh because life is too short to moan and be grumpy.

I picked up all these names while I was in the college, where I studied information communication technology (ICT). I wasn’t as smart as everybody, not a famous guy, or intelligent or something, rather because of my patch on top of my head. I told them it’s trendy these days to have low-cut and smooth hair.

I loved it there at the college, and I wish I could go back and do more courses and come out with more qualifications. Can we turn back the time sometimes?

I came with loads of hair when I arrived there, and due to my post-traumatic stress, I lost a bit on top; and over a period, it went on to be a bald patch. However, I stayed focused, and I graduated in 2003. There were challenges, and like I said, I stayed focused and obedient to the laws and regulations.

The teachers were amazing and kind to me on the subjects that I found difficult to keep up with and the ones they feared I might fail if I was not supported in the class. You can imagine a boy from West Africa, who has not used a computer before, turn around and use one. Thanks to my tutor, who did all she could to help me even though I was slower than my peers in the class.

She went on to introduce me to the library, where I could borrow laptops and books to keep up with my classmates. The guys were quick, sound, and good. I guess it’s because of the school they went to before coming into the college. I will not forget my itinerary tutor, Mr Wright Ma Oziri. I do not know what you are doing now, but my prayers go to you and your family. He was amazing on how to take a trip to Brisbane, Australia, from our small classroom. We did that, and it was amazing to do. That way, you can go to anywhere in the world with your fingertip and work out how much the transit will cost while you are still at home.

I was born in West Africa, and I have other family links in Nigeria, Senegal, and Ghana. My mother left, apparently, when I was a baby, and I had to be raised by a different woman, who was also from Africa. However, she is no more, and I may have to use this opportunity to say thank you for the little things she did as my biological mother was not there for me. But she is still my mother no matter what life throws at me.

I left home to seek shelter and refuge due to the political unrest I witnessed. I was only a young boy, and I wanted tranquillity; however, these problems caught up with me later on in life here in Peaceful City—post-traumatic stress. Again, I moved on, and because time is a healer, I picked myself up and carried on smoothly. I happened to be an ECOWAS citizen (Economic Community of West African States). Every organization or group that are after me in that region are as well members of ECOWAS, and that leaves me vulnerable if I am in West Africa or around that region, if you know exactly what I mean.

I had no option but to leave for Amicable City but was landed here in Peaceful City. It was all good though, and I will never forget that morning all my life. The plane landed at 07.26 at the terminal. It was a beautiful Wednesday morning, 15 November 2000, and I was so amazed.

You can imagine, after wandering some of the West African countries, lonely and vulnerable, I was so amazed and happy to land there, even though I was diverted or transferred or got the route wrong in heading to Amicable City. I took a flight from Africa that stopped somewhere for an hour, and it went on for another six or seven hours. I was expecting Amicable City, but it happened to be on the other side of the Atlantic. It was beautiful to feel the wind on that beautiful winter morning and the nice, sweet smell of coffee coming probably from one of the big chains at the airport. Since then, I have never stopped drinking coffee. It is a fact to me and to anyone who will believe it that coffee keeps you agile in the morning; it’s better to have one in the morning than in any other time of the day.

I enjoyed it though, and I have built my life around here. No matter what happens, it’s my home. I still have cousins and nephews living all around the world. I think I owe some of them some explanation why I never call or try to see them or contact them. Some of my friends in Africa are maybe master’s degree holders or its equivalent, and I am so proud of them for having me around them and allowing me to come into their class sessions and read their books, some of which they borrowed from the library and I had to share it with them, even though I was not officially registered at their various universities and colleges.

The hospitality from the staff and officers who took me in and referred me to the relevant section for children could have impacted the way I see them at the airport today—professionalism and neutrality. I did not know the law of the land, and I was only 17 years of age.

I have always been a private person; I was brought up to learn to keep myself to myself, and I have always done it all my life. I do like a good laugh, like I said in the beginning of my book, but it’s not everybody that likes it. And for the fact that I like conversation, I believe it’s a good way of learning. In other words, as I am talking to you, I am at the same time learning from you. However, I had to keep out of trouble; otherwise, I would be calling for my removal from my adopted country back to those people I was running away from in Africa—my persecutors, if you like.

I do not think the authorities believed me when I came, and I guess it’s because of stories being told by non-genuine asylum claimants. On arrival at the airport, the officer told me that if I have no passport or any travel document, he will have no option but to put me back on the