My first experience with the other

When I was young my parents made it clear to me that everyone was the same. I took this as the truth. I never judged anyone on their colour or creed because when I was young I didn’t even see the difference. Physically I was aware that people were different but I had no idea of the vast number of different views and cultures that there were in the world. My primary school was a mix of people. Indian, African, Asian and white. Everyone was friends at this point and we thought this was the norm. I made friends with a boy called Akmed. We spent a lot of time together and began hanging out on the weekends. The first time I went to his house I was amazed. I had never seen a house like his and found it fascinating. His mother wore a sari and was a practising Muslim. I noticed small things like the letters on their keyboard were Arabic and that his parents spoke in Arabic most of the time. I sat down to eat with them and at first I was terrified because I had never seen food like the kind they made and it was a new experience for me. I suppose what I’m trying to explain is what my first experience of the other is. It was that day when for the first time I was exposed to a new strange and interesting culture for the first time.