Memory loss is a common symptom for those who have experienced torture. I don’t even remember much about the long and difficult journey we took to find sanctuary in the UK. When Sri Lanka descended into violence it was like a nightmare that we couldn’t wake up from.
I knew I had no choice but to flee, and I was forced to leave my two sons behind. I can’t describe how painful it was saying goodbye to them, hoping that we would be reunited as soon as possible.
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But there are lots of memories of Sri Lanka that I do remember and like to think about, like sitting in my father’s restaurant and seeing people from all different faiths and backgrounds eating together. Or remembering how my mother showed me how to make curry powder from scratch and, later, teaching my own sons how to cook our cherished family recipes. These memories are very dear to me. But when I first arrived in the UK, I couldn’t even remember the recipe for Sri Lankan hibiscus rice. I remember just staring at the pots and pans, wondering what to do next.
When I got to the UK, I hardly spoke a word of English. The next few years were so hard. I was referred to Freedom from Torture, an organisation that supports torture survivors to rebuild their lives in the UK, and over time, miraculously, I was able to make sense of my life once more. My therapist made me feel safe and encouraged me to join the baking group with other survivors.
Cooking and baking unlocked something in me. Simply gathering around food helped me out of my shell. I was still terrified of strangers, but joining this group encouraged me to start talking again by getting the confidence to ask simple questions like ‘where’s the butter’, ‘could you pass the sugar?’, and ‘how are you?’. Smells brought back memories of comfort and home. I also met other people with remarkable life stories, people who were going through similar things to me.