‘Orite’ by Nikita

My name is Nikita and I immigrated to Scotland from Ukraine in 2009 at the age of 9. I first lived in Glenrothes and then moved to Edinburgh when I was 14. This poem represents my journey in becoming a citizen and how I first felt when experiencing the Scottish culture.

Orite’ echoed through the field

I nod my head shyly, up with my shield

Does Orite mean hello or do they think I’m a fiend?

It’s easy being 9, but hard in a foreign land

The ball comes to feet, it’s muddy

I’m not used to this, rain falling in a hurry

I drive quickly, passed one, passed two

“Pass ball hogger” shouts in every direction

Do they think I’m good? Or I’m I Getting lost in translation?

The ball leaves my foot, the net ripples

The shouting triples

Celebrations rock the grass with a heavy cheer

“Wee man who do ye play fir?”

Thumbs up, head nodding, smiling and flying

I can’t understand a word but I’m trying

You see, English is hard, but the beautiful game is the best interpreter

It denies the rubbish, showing the beauty of the Scottish

Walking home was the best, I passed the test on the quest

Of being welcomed into the nest

No need to talk, just walk the walk

The acceptance of the apprentice at work

I should've been the odd man out, but I became an ally

16 years on and all I do is dilly dally

The Scottish spirit is in me, and I don’t mean the swally

I reminisce every rainy and sunny day on the fields when I was an outsider

I wasn’t bred, but I was raised

Not just slightly grazed, but fully marinated

Scotland is now all I’ve known

From sun till dawn, happy or drawn

The allegiance has been sworn

Now any time I step on a field I keep the tradition going

Whether is the loud, the shy, the bold, or the boring

I look them in the eyes with my face bright

and with my strong Scottish accent I say

‘Orite’