“This is my treasure. This is my life,” said Argun, patting his photograph album.
As Argun turned to the first page, a charming photo of a chubby baby smiled up at me. It was an early portrait of the man who had been selling me stationery from his business in East London for years. There were other portraits—of Argun’s Ottoman ancestors wearing smart suits and fezzes; of his Uncle Saleh, who had fought for the British against Hitler, in his military uniform; of young Argun and his older brother sitting between their parents perched on each arm of a large chair.
After his parents left Cyprus, three-year-old Argun and his brother went to live with his maternal grandparents. In 1964, civil war broke out. As the bombs fell, Argun hid his album behind a metal cabinet. It was the only possession that not only survived but was also carried by him, stored in a carrier bag when he and his brother boarded a ship in Limassol harbor, headed to Marseilles. After months living in a refugee camp, their grandfather insisted that they join their parents, now divorced, in London.
It was not an easy transition. Argun’s brother went to live with his father, and Argun, with his mother and new husband. In the album, the black-and-white studio photographs from Paphos were succeeded by color photos of Argun in his bedroom, for which he had to pay rent by working in the Wimpy bar every evening after school and at weekends. Then the photos switched back to Cyprus, and his wedding to Hurmus. “It was the happiest day in my life. I was finding a home.”

When we filmed Argun and Hurmus showing the album to their grandchildren in their London garden I asked Aleyna, the eldest:
“What would you save if you had to leave your home in a hurry?”
“My phone and my charger.”
Hurmus and Argun laughed but Alyena had a point. I knew from my research with people who had migrated as children more recently than Argun how essential mobile phones were—to plan routes, transfer money and, yes, to trace family and friends and store photos of loved ones.
Argun’s story of migration as a child is told in the film Life is A Destiny (15 min), and in Chapter 3 of Eithne Nightingale’s book Child Migrant Voices in Modern Britain: Oral Histories 1930s – Present Day, published by Bloomsbury in 2024 (Digital Childhoods readers can use the code GLRAQ7 to get a 20% discount).
Dr Eithne Nightingale has over forty years’ experience working on equality and diversity issues in the education and cultural sectors. As part of her PhD researching child migration she founded the Child Migrant Stories website, films and public engagement program. Eithne is also a freelance researcher, writer, photographer and filmmaker, with a website and Twitter.