Nedal

This necklace was gifted to me by my grandmother in Basra before I left Iraq in the summer of 1979 under difficult circumstances. At the time, I did not intend to stay in Britain, nor did I know that I would never see my grandmother again.

Fawzia

When I left Iraq in 1979, I left behind a large collection of photographs, hundreds or maybe thousands. When I returned in 2003, I found only around 20 photographs had survived.

Entissar

Memories from a Homeland written by Entissar - a reflection on leaving Syria and her memories of home and community

Arwa

I was thinking about all the topics we talked about: we are not living our own nostalgia, but the past generations’ nostalgia, so I wanted to represent this idea.

Ashtar

When my father died, I inherited certain things, things nobody else in the family wanted, but I was absolutely fascinated by. My father kept every single railway ticket from when he was in Iraq in the 1950s and all the airline tickets he acquired throughout his life.

Rayya

My object is something I inherited rather than something I brought from Iraq, so it made the journey here before me. I found losing it, or the prospect of permanently losing it, very painful. That is how sentimental it has become to me.

Zainab

I reach out in labyrinth of my mind and search for a true memory of you. However, it keeps dissipating. The more I remember, the more confused I become.

Asmaa

The object I chose was a gift from my grandmother, she gifted it to me when I was born. It’s a necklace. The drawings overlay traces over some writing. It gave me an opportunity to reflect on my relationship with my grandmother.

Sanaa

I packed my bag and left home and felt as though I were a traveler with no future at a road with no end

Maha

When I arrived here in London, I would go sightseeing and unintentionally started calling the places I see after places in Iraq. I would say “let’s go to Al-Mansour”, meaning Edgware Road, and my kids would laugh at me.

Shezza

The object that I’ve chosen is quite small, and the memory behind it is probably the oldest thing that I own which came with me from Syria.

Souad

Before I started this project, this object captured a faint memory of a homeland, and of the distant relative who gifted it to me. It was merely a decorative item on my windowsill, but it had sentimental value.

Maysoun

When I came to London in 2001, I brought with me something that was very dear to my mother, God rest her soul. We call it in Arabic “Jodaliyyah” but in English it is a throw.

Yasmin

My dad wants me to see the Iraq that he saw and it makes him sad that I won’t, so he doesn’t want me to go right now, but I am hoping in the future that I can. He tells me all of his stories; I feel that narrating is what keeps them alive.