Dear Penguin,
What do you say to a child growing up safe and loved, when millions of children like him are running from bombs?
I didn’t know how to start.
Then I read The Beekeeper of Aleppo.
We live inside a bubble. A warm, safe one of bedtime stories, tiffin boxes, and birthday parties. We talk about feelings, fairness, and kindness. But what about children who don’t even get to be children? What about people running, not towards a dream, but away from death?
This novel cracked open something inside me.
Book Summary:
The Beekeeper of Aleppo (2019) by Christy Lefteri is a tender, harrowing, and deeply human story about a Syrian couple Nuri, a beekeeper, and Afra, a blind artist, fleeing war-torn Aleppo after losing their only son. Their journey across Turkey and Greece to seek asylum in England is marked by unimaginable grief, bureaucratic coldness, fleeting kindness, and an aching sliver of hope.
Told through Nuri’s voice, the book drifts between memory and trauma, between the hum of bees and the roar of bombs. It’s not just a refugee story. It’s a story about love, loss, and the courage to keep living when life as you knew it has been taken away.
Book Info:
Book: The Beekeeper of Aleppo
Author: Christy Lefteri
Published: 2019
Genre: Literary Fiction, Refugee Fiction
Recommended for: Adults, especially parents wanting to explore empathy and global awareness with their children
Back to our letter…
Penguin, I have often told you how strong people can be, how brave. But this story? It reminded me that sometimes bravery looks like waking up when your heart doesn’t want to. Sometimes it’s standing in a line for asylum, with no papers and no promise. Sometimes it’s a father brushing dust off his blind wife’s coat, hoping she’ll still want to live.
As I read, I found myself thinking of the bees. How they became a metaphor for life, memory, and order. Nuri’s care for them, even in England, feels like him clinging to one last thread of his identity. Afra, who can no longer see, still paints in her mind. They carry home inside them, even if the soil beneath them is foreign.
How do I explain this to you?
Maybe like this: being human is not about where you’re born. It’s how you carry love through pain.
And here’s what this novel gifted me as your mother.
It reminded me that teaching you empathy isn’t just about being kind to your friends. It’s about understanding lives far removed from ours, asking tough questions, and being brave enough to care deeply even when it’s uncomfortable.
Lessons I want you to grow up with, Penguin:
- People are not “refugees.” They are parents, artists, children, friends with names, dreams, and recipes they miss.
- You never truly know what someone is carrying. Be gentle.
- Stories can change how we see the world. And how we act in it.
Let’s never forget that.
When I see bees now, I think of hope. Of Nuri. Of Afra. Of a child like you, Sami, gone too soon.
So let’s plant jasmine in our window box. Let’s honour stories that hurt and heal at the same time.
Because where there are bees, there are flowers. And where there are flowers, there is new life.
With all my love,
Maa
P.S. If you’ve read The Beekeeper of Aleppo, I’d love to know how it moved you. If not, add it to your list. It’s one of those stories that leaves you better than it found you.
What books have opened your eyes to different lives? What stories have helped you talk to your kids about kindness, migration, or resilience?
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