Continue from Part TWO, the reflection of memory continues.
Disadvantage Bengali Struggle, the Nightmare, fighting with our family and ourselves, and Race attacked. However, everyday hearing the word “Paki go back to your own country”, the Anti-Racist Movement was the turning point that changed lives into a land of opportunity and hopes both politically and economically; those who came to the UK from the mid-’80s did not have an understanding or clue about the past.
Robert Montefiore, the secondary school headteacher, became the education secretary (Minister) of the UK and one of our match teachers who became Minister of the Bangladesh BNP government Khandaker Mosharraf Hossain and one of the influential leaders of the BNP in Bangladesh. Attending such a school was a privilege for me. Two schools were named after Robert Montefiore, Primary and Secondary, and a community centre.
The racists and bullied attacked every day, which forced us to get close to group bonding in class, plus slowly got the leading our year group of people getting together as a group at the player ground both lunchtime break and the half-time break was the only way to make sure we all were safe at the school. So in our class group, following people as a reflection from my memory became close to each other, Abdul Hakim, Abdul Aziz, Sushil Kumar Bhatia, Abdul Hossain and Rashid and Jaffar joined the school in 1974.
The leading group of our year were apart from individuals in our class group, where we all used to take and mix in different classes lesson that included part of English as a Foreign Language (EFL) groups that had English, History, Match, Religious, Cooking, Music, PE, Woodwork, Biology, and Science classes where people like Bazlur Rahman, Monimul Islam, Shub Uddin, Moram Ali, Almongir Rahman, Faizur Rahman, Shodas Sandhu, Akkas Miah, Abdul Malik, Helal Uddin, Abdul Khalique, Zira, Asab, Fakar Uddin (known as Chinaman), Nazmul, Irfan, Abdul Salam.
My group and our English teacher were Ruth Magsgrave, and History teacher Joe Abrahams, Match teacher Mr Hossain, Religious teacher Mr Ahmed and Mr Malik, Music teache Mr Road (Sign), Ms Bell, Ms Canagary, Mr Begin, next part going to discuss more of our two teachers of our school.
The situation forced us to get close to many of them, as a most disadvantaged community living majority white-dominated area plus disadvantaged educationally or even knowing anything about the British system. The most challenging time for us was coming to school and going back home from school. There was no opportunity for us to go together as some of us lived in different directions. So, I found my seniors like Komor Bhai and Koysor (known as Tiger) go to Jabbar Shop (Taj Store) in Brick Lane when any day missed them there used to be pressure on me, the shop they used to work after school. My duty was to do the shopping for home every day before going home (remember that there was no freezer or freezer facility during that period) and cook for everyone. My mother and my youngest sister left the UK for Bangladesh after three months of staying because she did not like the country and left her elder son and my immediate young sister of mine plus the rest of the family, against only me.
There is time to time, stop by, and three-four people mostly took money from our pocket; that was some of the regular activities and did think and reflected such incidents like a nightmare. Once a month, free lesson at the Cheshire Street BATH complex (Buckfast), which everyone enjoyed but going and coming from there was always the most frightening issue when we were all going to be attacked by the racist people; those days, Bethnal Green area was the worst place for Bengali community.
As far as the school was concerned was essential for me to learn the English language, which is vital to stay in this country, where I got assaulted and abused. Money was taken on many occasions and was the most frightening matter of life. However, our courage and motivation during the 1971 war against the Pakistani perhaps did help to gain courage and remain strong despite all the odds against us.
Also, our school friends got together, and our bonding and support network kept us fighting within ourselves to continue with the everyday life within the school and keep asking Allah to keep all of us safe from all those evil forces which we all go through five days a week within the school and from time to time, see a group of white racists on the street while we are coming to school and going back home.
During 1974 the school week trip to Gosfield, Essex, was situated at the remote outside village of the Essex area. Our class people were getting together first time apart from 5-10 minutes at the class early morning before our lesson start and once after the lunch break before our lesson start and at the first time in life, after coming to London, going out of London where county side small village town with not many shops accept just everything essential for people living within the area. After we reached Gosfield at 6 pm, our evening dinner was provided where without rice and curry, first in life, but mostly boiled English food and no spices. So, after a few hours before going to sleep, we all Bengali got hungry, and it was challenging to go to sleep by keeping ourselves hungry. Still, the next day when to the village town, we all got crisps, biscuits, and chocolates from the town, so we did not go to sleep with hungry stomachs again.
In Gosfield, a range of activities were arranged by our teacher beforehand, and we all did different activities for five days all day, including walking miles on the open fields and small jungles plus games activities. However, we never got insulted or bullied by our students, either within the class or at the Gosfield. Still, until September 1974, I used toilets before going to my lesson on the stair of the 2nd floor, and five-six girls attacked me. They started kicking over 10 minutes. Two of them were from my class, one white and one black girl, so my class teacher ended up taking me to the Royal London Hospital for a check-up because of bleeding from my mouth and nose; after going home, my father stopped me going back to school for over three months but staying home felt bored and force myself going back to school again. Continue next part.