I moved to the Uk in 1999


I moved to the Uk in 1999

“I moved to the UK in 1999 I did not speak any English at the time. I found English classes but they were either mixed or the teacher was a male, so I gave up and stayed home.


A friend told me about Heba, and I joined in Entry Level 2 for English in 2008. A few months later I started sewing class, I was surprised how much I had learned – I was able to discuss my work with other ladies in English! That gave me more confidence and I started travelling to Heba on my own, and booking my appointments over the phone.  Now I am taking part in E3 and a reading and listening club to practice and improve my English. I am now happy to visit the doctor by myself without the need of a translator. I do not have to wait for my husband to call the housing officer to solve any problems because I can do it.” 

Migratory narrative from woman at Heba Oct 2013

I didn’t go to school back home

I didn't go to school

I didn’t go to school back home; for my generation it was normal and we were very poor. I came to London when I got married and never learned English till I heard about Heba from my neighbours. I enrolled in October 2011. It was my first time in a classroom. Since then, my English has improved immensely. I know road names, food names, spice names; now I can do the shopping on my own. I know the day of the week and the time in English, too.

I enjoy the social side of Heba, the parties and trips. I’ve been on three excursions with Heba, and this is how I learned to use the bus. I can take the D3 from near my house to Whitechapel or Bethnal Green, on my own.

I learnt English for myself and to help others who can’t speak English, like I couldn’t. In the future I would like to work. For now, I’m happy to volunteer at Heba with general house-keeping and tidying.



Migratory narratives from Heba Oct 2013



No money to learn English

No money to learn English In my country I was a teacher. When I married my husband he said we would move to UK. I thought I would have a better life here; it’s what everyone in my country dreams of, but I was wrong. My husband sends all his money to his family. I didn’t have any money to get a bus to go to English class and I didn’t have any chance of getting a job to get money because I didn’t know English.

Finally I found out about free English classes at London Muslim Centre from one of my neighbours. It was far from my house but I could get on the back of the bendy bus without paying. And there I studied English up to Entry 3 level. After completing ESOL Entry3, I was looking for a place where I could do Level 1. By now I needed a place with childcare facilities because I had a baby and I could not afford to pay for my childcare. I desperately needed to improve my English. A friend of mine told me about Heba. It was exactly what I had been looking for.

I did ESOL level 1, Level 2 and ICT. I also had conversation class and joined in the book club, which have significantly improved my speaking, listening, reading and writing. All these have given me the confidence to look for work.

When I was ready to start job hunting, I got help with building my CV, writing letters to employers, and looking for work online. The staff at Heba knew what I was looking for and forwarded job vacancies to me. Then, when I managed to secure an interview, I had some advice about possible job interview questions.

I was successful in the interview and I am so happy to be working, meeting people and having an income of my own.

Next, I’d like do GCSE maths and English and one day go on to do a PGCE, so I can be a teacher, like I was in my country. I hope Heba will help me.

I love Heba

Migratory narrative from women at Heba Oct 2013

London Plane

London Plane
London Plane

 Sycamore, Poplar, Oak; it has taken me weeks to remember their names but I can now.  London Plane is the tree I like best with its spiky round brown nuts dangling from its branches; it reminds me where I am and who I am.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.  They refuse to understand.  But I have no choice.  The questions they ask me.  I look at their faces and though they think I can’t see; I can.  How many times?  I can’t count.  England; I thought it would be different here, but just like Karachi; always the same look; they don’t believe me.

The first week I was in London, I only went out to the shop to buy milk, dhal, rice and bananas.  When I came home, I sat by the window, looking out at the small park, surrounded by tall trees with emerald green grass in the centre and watched the rain and cried; how I cried.

I don’t know why and how that morning, in my second week, I was able to walk out the door and instead of turning left, I went right, and right again into the park.  There was no call to pray; just birds singing.  Perhaps that helped me.  When I got into the park there was no one there.  I walked past the trees: strong, thick, brown, red, grey almost black; chopped branches; knotted, chipped, flaking bark; jade green leaves and tiny flowers at their bases: white, yellow, purple.  As I looked across I became frightened.  Someone was walking towards me.  But then I saw it was an English woman with two small dogs, fluffy and white as though they had just had a bath.

‘Good morning,’ she said and before I could open my mouth she and her dogs were gone.

The next morning I wasn’t sure; all I could see were heavy, grey clouds raining down; by seven o’clock I decided it was too late; there would be too many people.

On the third morning the sky reminded me of the bright blue dupattas Razia and I wore at St Joseph’s before Senior Fikree confiscated them.  Thinking of those crazy times in Karachi I smiled, as I walked out of the house.  When I entered the park it was light but earlier than before so the woman and her dogs hadn’t come yet.  There was no one there so I walked slowly round the park looking at the trees, tapping them as though I knew them which I didn’t then.  As soon as I saw someone enter the park I walked quickly home.

On my fourth day the singing was joyful, as though the birds were teasing me.  That was how I learnt to go out.  I kept my head down if there were any men there but I didn’t mind to say good morning to the women.

By my third week I was less frightened and sleeping better.  My new friends woke me at six and they welcomed me like the St Patrick’s Cathedral choir.

Every day I see women’s faces: old, young, brown, red, dark, light just like the barks of the trees; English, Chinese, Turkish, African.

One morning a young woman stopped me and said, ‘isn’t this just wonderful.’

I didn’t understand why she stopped me.  But it was true for seven days it had been raining.


Migratory narrative from women at Heba Oct 2013