There’s something almost universal about the way we remember children’s books. They’ve always been a way of making something unfamiliar or unrealistic feel imaginable. From wizards and superheroes to enchanted forests and princess adventures, these stories have become staples on young readers’ bookshelves. 

But refugee stories, displacement and crossing borders are often missing from books we place in their hands. We hear plenty of these stories through the news, documentaries or political discourse and rarely on the pages of children’s books. 

In his second book, 34-year-old Hamed Amiri takes us on a poignant journey of forced migration, making space for the complexity of leaving home, family loss and growing up between worlds. The Other Boy invites young readers to experience the voyage of young Amiri through his own eyes, bringing an experience into children’s literature, where it’s hardly ever represented. 

Congratulations on your second book! You’ve told parts of your story before. What was left unsaid that you felt needed to be included in this one? 

The first book had a huge focus on my family but specifically my older brother Hussein. I’ve been going to schools to give talks and every time there’s a Q&A, kids are asking me questions. I felt like there were deeper questions they wanted to ask but they didn’t have the chance to. So I felt the need to write a book to answer those questions and talk about how I navigated my school, failures and how I turned around getting three U’s. It was also an opportunity for me to write it for my kids, one of them is two and half and the other is five months. I wanted them to know who their dad was and how he went through his interesting journey.

Writing this book, you’ve obviously had to relive your past. How difficult was that?

It was difficult but I have this formula: If sharing that information is going to help someone, then I’m ok to open up and let that go and not hold on to it. The book is so much more than me, it’s for others. There’s a lot in the book that’s very personal, very raw but for the right reasons. 

Was there anything you wish you hadn’t remembered? 

Reliving my brother and his illness and episodes was tough. I relive it with a smile because he wasn’t just my older brother, he was my best friend, my role model, my roommate. But it was tough.

Your mother’s brave decision to speak out for girls against the Taliban to go to school in Afghanistan changed the course of your family’s life. At what point did you understand that decision? 

I understood it during the journey. When the Taliban said they wanted to kill my mum, that’s when I realised the extent of the impact and how brave she was despite her knowing the consequences. My mum always wanted a daughter. She was a mentor, a women’s rights activist and I remember her sneaking into the basements of houses to teach the girls about STEM. And over time she would get angry and frustrated because they wouldn’t have the same chance at education that the boys did.

I remember her telling me and my brothers that she didn’t want us to go into an environment and think that that was ok. So when she stood up to the Taliban, I was so proud of her. Along the journey she felt guilty but I kept telling her ‘you’re the voice of the voiceless.’ 

What was the first British thing that made you realise you’ve left home? 

I’ll tell you the very first time that I knew we were in the UK. So, we had been in the back of a container for a day and a bit from France. We knock on the container, the driver comes out angry and confused. We got out on the side of the motorway and I saw the right hand drive. That indicated to me we were in the UK, we’ve made it. My brothers, dad and I formed a circle and had a wee. Cars were beeping and I was waving. I told my dad ‘look how friendly they are, they’ve embraced us, welcoming us here.’ Years later, I realised they were beeping because we were doing something we shouldn’t have done. 

If you could sit opposite young Hamed today, what would you tell him?

I can picture myself: I’ve just been told my A-level results – U’s across the three subjects. I was embarrassed, ashamed, and mum’s not angry but disappointed. That’s the moment I wish an older Hamed walked through the door. I’ll give him a hug and tell him it’s going to be ok. I’ll tell him there are a lot of low moments and high ones. I’ll tell him to be proud of all the little wins as well as the failures.

It’s no doubt you have moved around a lot. Where is home and what does it mean to you?

The definition of home for me is not where you are, it’s who you are with.

As long as I have the right people around me, that’s home.

Home is here now, in the UK. I’ve got two young kids, my parents, brothers and my wife. That’s contentment, that’s home. 

The last chapter in the book is called The Other Boy. Tell me about the book title. Why did you choose ‘The Other Boy’?

We all have choices. You could choose to be the victim, and I chose many times to blame the language, weather, culture, and people for my failures, or you could choose to be the other person – in my case, the other boy. I no longer see myself as the victim, I see my past defining who I am today. My failures are part of me. It’s nice we have choices; it’s up to you which one you want to turn up and be.

If you could change some things about the way Britain talks about refugees, what would it be?

People need to realise that refugee wasn’t a word that I chose, it was given to me.

I want people to realise that it’s the last resort for most people to make these journeys. If you paid me a billion pounds, I would never do it again.

Being robbed, human trafficking, sex trafficking, people getting lost along the way, moments where I thought we weren’t going to make it and putting all of us at risk. Sadly, this isn’t what’s perceived in the media. For my family, we had to leave, if we didn’t, my mum would have been executed. If we didn’t leave and come to the UK, I wouldn’t have had an additional 17 years with my older brother. 

This one’s for the Arsenal fans…did you ever meet Ian Wright?

I haven’t yet. Ian, if you’re watching this, I’d love to send you a free copy of the book. I’d love to tell him the impact he had on me, which allowed me to process the journey I had been through.

He played a big part in my journey. The very first top that was given to me through donations from the local charity shop was an Arsenal top with Ian Wright. It was the first time after 18 months that I could be a child again.

He was my escapism, football was my escape from the traumatic experience.

I genuinely believed I could play for Arsenal until it got stolen,  because we were living in a place where we had a shared communal laundry. It really broke me because that was my journey to be accepted, to belong. When they took it, it shattered that.

What’s next for you? 

I’d love to do a cookbook. My mum is an amazing cook, and I want to incorporate each recipe on the pages with a family story behind it. 

I have also taken the next three months off work to go to every school and tell them to bulk-buy my book at a discounted rate so that the kids can read it and have the chance to ask me questions about my childhood, school, my journey, etc. I know they’ll have so many questions about so many things, so I’d like to answer those.