Original subtitles

We all tell stories.

Our own stories, stories about others.

Some stories become part of our official history

and can change the way we look at the world.

Some stories can change the way we look at ourselves.

I've been telling other people's stories

for a couple of decades,

which is just another way of saying

that I'm a journalist.

Telling Ismael's story

had been one of my career highlights.

I thought it was one of the easiest stories to tell.

It turned out to be one of the hardest.

Michelle: When Ismael was 13-years-old,

a group that called itself the Islamic Courts Union

seized control of Mogadishu.

That sent shock waves throughout the West

and dire warnings that this group

was the African Taliban.

In Somalia though,

there was some cautious optimism.

The group definitely had some radical members.

But they also had moderate politicians.

And most importantly,

they managed to take power away from corrupt warlords.

They brought a semblance of peace.

But, that stability didn't last long.

After less than a year in control,

Ethiopian troops backed by the US invaded Somalia

to push out the Islamic Courts Union.

Then came two devastating years of war.

And during that conflict,

a group called Al Shabaab,

gained tremendous power.

Once the war ended

and Ethiopia was pushed back across the border,

Al Shabaab was there to stay.

And over the years they evolved into a terrorist group

forcing countless child soldiers into their ranks.

By the time Ismael was 16-years-old,

Al Shabaab had officially joined forces with Al Qaeda.

Michelle: Holding you down.

Yeah.

She never tells you how she feels.

I never get emotional talking this,

Michelle: I first met Ismael

on a reporting trip to Mogadishu.

Somalia had always been

one of my favourite countries to cover.

It's a fascinating, resilient place,

although so often horribly frustrating and tragic.

As a national security correspondent

for the Toronto Star,

my beat was to cover the conflict.

But I tried to highlight the positive too.

Over the years,

many of the contacts I made professionally

became good friends.

I think that often happens in risky places

where the stakes are so high.

Sahal Abdulle,

a Canadian and former photo journalist with Reuters,

is one of those close friends.

During the war with Ethiopia,

he barely survived a car bombing.

That bombing did kill Ali Sharmake,

another Somali Canadian journalist

and a friend of ours.

Sahal: We, as a journalist,

we report so we can make a difference.

We are a journalist.

We're supposed to be observer, not to be part of it.

But it is...

I mean when you talk about that it is...

yes, at the end of the day you are a human being.

So when you see kids being ripped apart.

Person missing,

elderly lady missing a leg or hand.

It will, it will affect you.

You don't, you think, okay, you make a difference,

you might stop this.

And things still continue.

And you go like: what's the point?

Michelle: No matter how many times I went to Somalia

or the connections I made,

there was always the unease of being an outsider.

I understood my place.

And I did feel what I was doing was important.

But sometimes I just felt guilty too.

Because I would come and go, taking stories with me.

And if the stories didn't make a difference,

what was the point of asking people to tell them.

During a trip in 2010,

a contact of mine told me

there was someone I needed to meet.

Do you remember when we first met?

Michelle: And I remember when we took this, this picture,

there were four boys that this happened to.

But Ismael was the only one who was sort of willing

and most eager to talk.

And he sat down. I said I'll need to take a picture.

And the escorts were yelling:

It was time to go, time to go.

And he just sat down

and he took off his prosthetic leg

and he put his hand up. And he just struck this pose.

And, I remember I started crying.

I was trying to focus the camera.

Because he just looked so young

and it was so horrific what happened.

And then as I was leaving,

because everything in Mogadishu then happened so fast,

and, you know, here I am in my flack jacket and my helmet

and he's in, you know, sitting there on a couch.

Probably after I leave I don't know where he's going.

And as I left he was saying -

begging me to take him to Canada.

And he looked on my bag

and there was a little Canadian pin.

And um, so I, you know, took the--

I said: Do you want this?

And so I gave him the pin

and my last image of him was down on his -

he dropped it and he was trying to find it.

And I'll probably start crying telling this story now. Um...

I guess I was getting cynical.

But I really thought his story would be among those

that were just told and forgotten.

But, something unexpected happened.

The story prompted action in Canada.

Toronto's powerful Somali diaspora

started a group they called Project Ismael,

and they raised funds, spread his story

and tried to get him help.

Sahal made it his personal mission

to get Ismael to safety.

The little kid who went through this one.

I said that's fine, I will try to help you,

ah, to take you from this pain and ah, and what have you.

And at that particular time,

I don't know how, but in my mind I said

this kid went through so, let's, let's help him

regardless of what happened,

who did it or what have you.

I just saw this human being who needed help.

I can't save Somalia,

but I think I can try to save at least this kid.

Michelle: And Sahal did rescue him.

He managed to get Ismael out of Mogadishu to Nairobi,

where he unofficially adopted him.

Since Ismael had escaped Al Shabaab's custody,

he was still at risk in Kenya

where the group had a presence.

But just a few months later,

the United Nations accepted Ismael

as a refugee in need of immediate help.

And they quickly found him a home.

Ismael was given refuge in Harstad, Norway,

200 kilometres north of the Arctic Circle.

That was 2011.

And Ismael did what was expected of him.

He went to high school, became fluent in Norwegian,

joined a local soccer team.

And I kept telling his story,

writing updates about how well he was doing.

The next chapter in Ismael's story came in April 2018.

That's when he got his Norwegian citizenship.

I was really excited for him.

He had been homesick

and desperately wanted to visit family and friends

back in Somalia.

Once he had that Norwegian passport,

he could return home for the first time

since fleeing almost a decade earlier.

And I would go with him

to film, to keep telling his story.

What's that?

It's the national anthem or the--

Do you know it?

Woman: Ishmael Khalif Abdulle.

Michelle: I thought his passport would bring relief.

He was a full-fledged Norwegian citizen

with all the protections that brought.

We could start planning his trip to Mogadishu now.

But once I got back to Toronto,

he started sending worrying texts.

Ismael had agreed to come to Toronto

following a terrible summer.

After getting those texts,

I had gone to see him in Norway, without the camera.

He told me he had suffered as breakdown.

He'd lost his apartment and had to get a new one.

He stopped going to school.

I thought maybe coming to Toronto would help.

He had wanted to meet the members of Project Ismael.

He said he'd always dreamed of Canada.

And when we were together,

we could figure out how to film his trip home.

But I was starting to worry

that I was pushing him too hard.

Was this about him or the story or both?

George: I'm very excited to have a great run,

Michelle Shephard is on her way in.

First let's set this up.

On September 10th, 2001,

Michelle Shephard was in Toronto

reporting on a purse snatching for the Toronto Star.

It seemed like an important story at the time.

Next day, Michelle stood in Manhattan,

September 11th, ground zero,

breathing in dust from the fallen World Trade Center.

She didn't know it then, but that moment

was the beginning of a ten year journey,

a journey she has written about in her book called

"Decade of Fear."

Please welcome Michele Shephard.

- How are you? - Hi.

- So nice to see you. - Nice to see you. Thanks.

You can walk into a scenario

and you can start to tell a story.

But the more you tell a story the closer

- you're going to get to it. - Yeah.

And then you have to re-evaluate what your role is.

What is your role now

when you try to tell people these stories?

I think I want to bring the parts of the world

that I don't think people understand home to them.

So I'm so lucky that at the Star

they've given me this really long leash

that I can travel the world.

So people are not gonna be able to go to Somali,

people are not gonna be able to go to Yemen,

parts of Pakistan, Guantanamo Bay way too many times.

So what I try and do is, is, you know,

bring, bring the people who are there their stories.

So that they're not just thought of as, you know,

the other or um, a country that we don't understand.

I try and bring that home.

Can you do that and not get too close to a story?

No. I mean you get too close.

I think this idea of being of pure objectivity in journalism,

it just doesn't exist.

Um, I think you do your best to tell the story from all sides.

But of course you get really close, yeah.

There's a lot of stories that I've come close to.

I'm really excited to go pick him up.

It's just weird that I actually feel so nervous.

I actually do feel nervous. I don't know why.

I'm obviously excited,

but I think because he's been through so much,

ah, since we last filmed with him,

which was in Norway

when we did the citizenship ah, ceremony.

And I just think he had such a crash after that

and we were all so worried about him.

And I guess, yeah, I just, I guess, I feel nervous,

that I hope he's okay.

Hey, Mama. Both: Good to see you.

- How are you doing? - Good. How are you doing?

- I'm doing-- - You must be so tired.

They stopped you a hundred times?

- At ah, where though? - Here.

Like at the Customs here? Oh no.

Did you say what-- Oh, I'm sure they loved that.

Really?

Seriously? The Custom agent looked at Google,

like at the stories. Oh, that's ridiculous.

God.

Do you want to practice driving when you're here?

- Really? - No.

Yeah, I wish.

All right.

This is it.

- Looks nice. - It's cute, eh? Yeah.

It is cute.

And it's cheaper than a hotel room. Go figure.

Wow.

It's very nice place.

Look a TV.

The phone.

Man: All right, welcome to CN Tower.

Bonjour, bienvenue à la Tour CN.

La version française était sync.

And we're heading up at 20 kilometres per hour.

That's 15 miles per hour.

It takes about 58 seconds to reach the lookout level.

- Any questions? - Do you have any questions?

- You can look down as well. - Oh shit.

Man: Yeah. All:

Michelle: It was fun filming in Toronto with Ismael.

It felt like I was just showing a friend around my hometown.

Man: Please watch yourself on the way out.

- Oh. Yeah. - Yeah.

Remember I said there was another airport.

That's over here.

He said he felt stronger and he definitely seemed it.

But he was still uneasy

whenever the camera came on.

It seemed like he felt he had to perform for the film,

to take on the role of Ismael

the always grateful refugee.

The Toronto Star, I showed you over there, that's like there.

Do you want to take any notes

or anything this afternoon before we go?

But, you know, you've had some tough times there too.

- Absolutely, yeah. - Right?

That's okay to say all that. Like just be completely honest

because, you know, all of that is your story

and all of that makes sense to people here.

Yeah. I will.

You know, because sometimes I think even the stories

that, you know, I've done on you over the years

for the newspaper,

it's always like the happy refugee story, right?

Yeah, yeah, absolutely.

Like look at him, he's doing so great in Harstad.

You know, wow, this kid from Mogadishu is -

and, and, you know, that's sort of -

those are the kind of stories that people want to believe.

But it's more complicated than that.

And that's what happened to you.

Hello, Mohamed.

Who is this? Oh my God, oh my God,

oh my God, oh my God...

- I think it won't take you more than a few seconds

to realize what a special, special man he is.

When I met him when everything that happened to him,

he was just a teenager.

I want him to tell his own story.

He's a little bit nervous, even though he's,

- he's told it... - I am nervous.

many times before, very patiently to me many times.

So please, please help me

in giving him a warm introduction.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

Thank you very much.

Michelle: That Toronto trip was the last time I saw Ismael

before we returned to Somalia.

The irony wasn't lost on me.

The Toronto Star story was part, however small,

of the reason he was able to escape Mogadishu.

Now I was helping bring him back.

- Hey, Sahal. - Yes. Hey Ismael.

Hello...

We should talk a little bit about Mogadishu.

What's it going to be like when we get there,

like the security concerns?

Because I know Ismael was talking about going there

for a long time. And you and I were talking, Sahal,

earlier about maybe that's not smart right now.

Like it's still, still not entirely safe in that way.

So I wouldn't recommend him

to stay on an extended visit.

So a quick visit to see the family

and not cross certain streets

would be, I think, my advice.

And ah, to make this short,

maybe a week, maximum two weeks.

Would he still be targeted because of who he is?

Or is it just anybody right now?

All right, we will see you in Mogadishu soon.

- Thank you. - Okay. Sahal. A salaam.

- A salaam. Good night. - Bye.

All right, thank you, bye bye.

Bye bye.

Michelle: He couldn't wait to return.

But I was just nervous.

Would he be triggered going back

and have another breakdown?

And how would he feel when he was there,

having this white film crew follow him around?

The ways in which I had become

part of his life made me uneasy.

It felt like I was breaking the rule

we always try to keep in journalism:

Don't become part of the story.

Was I still helping him

or was I just complicating his life?

Just as we were in the final stages of planning our trip,

violence spiked again in Mogadishu.

Al Shabaab was still a serious threat.

Yeah, I just wanted to, to get details for the trip

and talk a little bit about some safety concerns

and things too.

Because I don't know if you saw the last bombing they had was...

- Yeah. - Sahal was,

Sahal was pretty upset about it. It was close -

kind of close to his house and he was there with his kids.

And um, so He feels -

I think he feels really nervous about you coming,

so I want us to like talk through that

and make sure you're okay with it

and he's okay with it and all of that.

Announcement: Ladies and Gentleman welcome to Mogadishu.

Bye. Bye bye.

Michelle: Mogadishu may not be the conflict zone it once was.

But almost no foreigners stayed far from the airport compound,

a type of green zone that Somalis call Container City.

This is home sweet home, guys.

Security is mandatory.

As soon as we got there,

everyone seemed on edge about Ismael's safety too.

He was high profile, so that put him at risk.

And he had embarrassed Al Shabaab

by escaping their custody

and telling the world his story.

That made him a marked man.

Al Shabaab still had a presence on the outskirts of the city

and many spies within it.

Attitude, you know.

If I give attitude back it will be okay.

What is that? What does that mean,

like a Mogadishu attitude?

Michelle: The Peace Hotel compound was a little oasis of,

well, peace.

But outside, the city was on edge.

There was a lockdown and a curfew.

People were frustrated.

There had been too many attacks.

Bombings and shootings in areas

that were supposed to be secure.

Anger was building towards the government.

Security of course always brings comfort.

But my greatest sense of relief

came when I saw Sahal.

There were very few trips I had ever made to Mogadishu

without his guidance.

And it felt even more crucial and personal

for this trip with Ismael.

It didn't take long to get a sense of the city's anger

and insecurity playing out on the streets.

A rickshaw driver had been shot dead by security forces.

Mere minutes later, protests erupted

and then were violently suppressed.

All of this was on the route to where Ismael's family lived.

This is right now.

They're carrying the body of the rickshaw driver

that was just killed.

It just makes me worry for the city

when it happens that fast, you know.

No.

- That's exciting? - Yeah.

Tell me the last time you saw her.

Where did you see her the last time?

You must have missed her a lot. - Mmm?

You must have missed her a lot.

Go ahead.

- They're waiting now? Okay. - Yes.

Our security escort was ready to go.

But Ismael's family reunion would have to wait.

Thank you.

His relatives lived outside the city limits.

And the logistics and safety concerns

made it too risky for him to go there.

So for now we would just do a small tour

so he could see the city he left behind.

But all this security to drive around?

The drama?

It was needed because we were there.

Foreigners are high risk targets.

And this is one of the uncomfortable realities

of being a foreign correspondent.

You only see the city through this lens

and there's an unfair power dynamic.

Ismael never travelled like this as a kid.

And he wouldn't travel quite like this when we left him.

The explosion was relatively small.

A car was on fire and traffic was diverted.

But this was on Mogadishu's main thoroughfare,

one of its most secure streets.

Man: You have seen a little bit.

As we filmed,

it was obvious how much attention we drew.

We worried about putting Ismael at any greater risk.

It was decided that his family would meet

at the hotel instead.

And for security reasons we wouldn't film.

So you just came from visiting your family.

What was it like?

Well, tell, tell me about it. Like what was it like?

- Go eat dinner? - Yeah.

If that felt awkward to watch, you're right.

It felt weird as we filmed it.

Almost staged.

Ismael had been so excited about seeing his family again.

But he didn't seem to want to talk about it.

I wondered, did we ruin the homecoming by being there?

Or was he upset

because he felt he couldn't safely move back here?

The day before I left Mogadishu,

he asked us if I could change his flight

because he wanted to stay much longer than the two weeks

he and Sahal had agreed upon.

It was too risky to stay with his family.

So he would rely on friends in the city.

But he was so high profile.

And we worried news of his return to Mogadishu

would travel fast.

Sahal is one of them most careful planners I know.

And this change really worried him.

What's going on?

Me too.

Well, we should do our last interview with you

if you're running off,

if you want to get linked up with Jim.

What's going on with you?!

No, it's like you're a different person.

Even though I had less trauma than what he went through,

I still, it took me time to come to Mogadishu too.

So I was sort of being protective.

He was a bit rebellious.

So you, you don't understand

what I went through in Norway.

I was the father figure.

I, you don't want to go.

The place is not ah, as safe as you think.

Ah, all these people that he might mix up

might not have his best interest at heart.

Michelle: We've got to go back in and we'll be back.

Okay, thanks a lot.

Where's your car?

Driving up.

Ismael, listen. What do I know?

I know nothing, right? I'm not Somali.

But everybody has told us like you're -

everybody is telling us they're worried about you.

So of course I'm going to be worried about you too.

How long can you what?

All right.

Well, so I'm not gonna see you for a bit now.

Are you going to Skype like every week?

- Okay. Be careful. - Yeah.

There was another world outside the gates of the hotel,

one that's not reflected in the news coverage.

I didn't get to see it much either.

But this view of Mogadishu is full of stunning beaches.

There's a vibrant culture of food,

community, sports, poetry, music and art.

I was really hoping this is what Ismael would return to,

an authentic Mogadishu

where he could find some peace.

But as I left the city,

I felt nothing but dread.

A terrible combination of feeling responsible

and helpless at the same time.

All right, let me try him again.

I hope he answers.

Okay.

Let me try him again because he was on -

he was on Facebook three minutes ago

and Skype seven minutes ago.

Hm, he's ghosting me.

Whatever he does now, it is up to him.

I mean nobody is responsible for anybody's mistake

and ah, responsibility.

God made you -

all men responsible for your deeds and what have you.

And I now believe

we give him a chance to,

regardless of what we hear now,

to live as a normal human being.

Michelle: Ismael ended up staying in Mogadishu

for three months.

And when he did reach out it was mainly by text.

And it was clear something was going on with him.

Dr. Anthony Feinstein was a friend of Sahal's

and also a friend of mine.

He specialized in the field of PTSD

and had helped many journalists I knew

after they experienced trauma.

He had helped Sahal recover

in the months that followed the car bombing

where he was nearly killed.

So we're doing this documentary on um,

this great kid that I met in Mogadishu in 2010.

I think I've told you his story in the past.

Yeah.

So, this summer we went - or in the spring,

we went and filmed him in Norway.

And after that he had a massive, massive breakdown.

And it was I think kind of the first real breakdown,

were he fully broke down since the incident.

Do you have-- I mean, you've studied PTSD for years now,

- Mm-hmm. - mainly with journalists.

But I think it's probably similar to victims

- of terrorism as well. - Yes.

Is that common to have that kind of breakdown

so many years later? I'm trying to understand from afar.

So it is uncommon but it is recognized.

There is a category of, of PTSD

called the late onset,

which by definition it has to be a gap of time,

they said arbitrarily at six months

but it can be quite a long time after that.

That initial trauma

can come back and... with a vengeance

and show up as very typical PTSD type symptoms

that might be triggered by a particular event

that makes the person recollect images

or memories of what they endured.

So there could be a trigger for it.

We now have this friendship.

I'm almost like an older sibling to him.

And I actually don't know how to deal with it.

It's, it's a weird position to be in.

Because I still have sort of the journalism backbone.

You know. And do you find that with other journalists?

Are you finding that in the field?

Well, you know, I think you touch on something which is -

we're talking, it's really relevant now which is,

you know, what are the boundaries for journalists.

Because this was reinforced with a study that we did.

I did a study back in 2017.

And what we found was something called moral injury,

which is not a mental illness

and it's important to stress that.

It's not a mental illness

and I hope it never becomes a mental illness.

But what it refers to is a sense

that as a person you've lost your moral way

which is something that you might have done

or that you failed to do.

Or you think that your news organization

has lost its moral integrity

because your news managers have made the wrong decision.

And many examples cropped up.

For example, if I'm a journalist

and I'm on a beach in Greece

and there's nobody else there

and there's a boat bobbing offshore

and the migrants can't swim, what do I do?

Do I take the photograph?

Do I wade in to try to save people

if they're calling for help?

If I do wade in, who do I choose to save?

Do I choose to save the adult or the child?

If there are multiple children why did I choose that child

and not that child?

And so you end up with these very uncomfortable choices

that you have to make.

And by, you know, putting your humanity first,

which is clearly what you've done,

your relationship with your subject changes.

You know, you're no longer just a journalist,

but you're something else.

Michelle: It had been eight months

since the last time I saw Ismael in Mogadishu.

He had agreed to come back to Toronto

because he said he needed to get something off his chest.

He said he hadn't been completely truthful

about what happened to him.

He seemed a bit angry and anxious.

Things with Ismael and Sahal had been intense too.

They had long phone conversations

once Ismael left Somalia.

Like me, Sahal was just trying to figure out exactly

what was going on.

All we knew was that Ismael

had some sort of epiphany in Mogadishu

and we were a part of it.

And we would understand better when he told us the truth.

- Hey. How are you doing? - What's up?

Yes, this is your coffee.

- Hello. Ismael. - Hey.

I know it's a bit awkward talking like this.

Because it's the first time you guys have seen each other.

And we'll talk about this later too when we do interviews.

Because I think we all have to figure out

- Mm-hmm. - kind of what happened.

You have a lot of kids. I have none.

Is this what it feels like to be a parent?

Aah, the other thing is ah,

everybody is different.

- None of them are alike. - I know.

Because everyone is his own human being, his own,

his own little cocoon and world.

Well. But also he's like, you know, what is he now? 26?

But it feels like he's gone back to being 17, you know.

Like the trip back to Mogadishu

like brought him back to being a kid.

- What I was trying to get out of him was,

yes, in Mogadishu there was a change.

There is a moment in the course of these things to happen.

And hopefully before the end of this week,

I hope to get more than one percent.

Are we good to go? Everybody is good to go?

It's going to be a long day.

Let's get rid of the day? Let's get this over with? Okay.

Are you sick of telling your story?

Nobody knows the whole story.

Okay. So should we--

Like I want you to tell me in your own words--

I just need you--

Don't tell me what you think I want to hear.

Mm-hmm.

All I want to hear is the truth.

You told me a story that you had to keep telling

over and over again, because you had told it once.

What you told me when we met,

you've now told me isn't the real story.

So, you wanted to keep going with the film,

you wanted to correct the record.

Please, tell me what really happened?

As a journalist, if you write something that's not true,

that's-that's a big deal to me.

You know, that doesn't - that doesn't happen to me.

I have to - I have to correct the record too.

So, I need you to help me as well,

to tell me really what happened.

And it's, it's, you know, I think over the years

you said it yourself. You said it really well.

Like you've been sort of telling me

what you think I want to hear

and what, you know, the Western world wants to hear.

And I actually think you were pretty smart in that.

And I think you were right.

Because the story you told that I wrote about

and others have told afterwards

was really sympathetic.

And I still think you're sympathetic.

But, but tell me - correct the record.

Tell me,

tell me what happened in ah--

in 2009.

Are you okay to get going again?

Okay. So, we left off you were gonna -

you were gonna get into

around 2009.

Was it just one night of robbing people?

- No. - No?

You wanna keep talking? Okay. Okay.

So, how did it stop?

Who did he call?

When we met you told me that they tried to recruit you

and they took you to prison. They took you to a stadium.

What other parts of the original story

that you told weren't true?

You told, you told me that after three months

you escaped their custody. And I always remember--

I do.

Does it-does it feel- does it feel better now?

Yeah?

Way more free.

When he told us the news

that this had all been a lie,

you would think that my first reaction would be about,

you know, the journalism part, the ethics.

And oh my God, I've been part of telling a lie.

This is not - parts of the very first story,

the story that I've been told

and other media has picked up on, has not been true.

But-but it wasn't.

And, I felt, I felt guilty.

I think somewhere in me I was like, okay,

this is a perfect story.

This is a perfect victim. We've got good and evil.

Terrorists did this to him. He's an innocent boy.

He wants to stay in school, that's great.

And I don't mean great. That's the -

that for journalism wise I'm like,

this is a simple story to write.

What's happening in Somalia right now

is, is really complicated.

How do you deal that?

And I think it is again something that you and me,

we have to - I think you are even worse than -

you are in a worse position than I am

because ah, you wrote it

and all over the world it went.

And we took this story and ah,

yes, both of us didn't know.

And sometimes ah,

now you are no longer with the newspaper,

how do you correct it?

Michelle: So for ten years

Ismael had to carry the burden of telling a story

that he thought the world wanted to hear.

And for that decade, I happily told it.

I never shied away from writing complicated

or controversial stories.

But there's no question

I loved his simple narrative.

A resilient, innocent kid

who defied a powerful, terrorist group.

Who couldn't understand that story?

But the thing is how did this version of the story

really change anything?

He was still a teenager trying to survive a war.

And he had his hand and foot cut off by a terrorist group.

When he met me,

he didn't think that alone

would make him sympathetic enough.

So he turned himself into a perfect victim,

so it would be the perfect story.

Because we all tell stories,

our own stories, stories about others.

Some stories become part of our official history

and can change the way we look at the world.

Some stories can change the way we look at ourselves.