It has been long time since I’ve written anything. Though my mind is always cramped with subjects I want to write about with shouts, protests and moans but every time I’d sit in front of my laptop I ended up with a blank page or just a few poor meaningless words at the top!
The thing is with the escalation of the refugees crisis: sinking boats, razor wires, barbarian crackdown of Macedonia and Hungary, borders being closed and opened depends on the political rope pulled between countless interests, humanitarian countries and inhuman ones and the divided Europe in face of the huge number of refugees who got caught between borders! And I got caught between following the news, trying to do something instead of just moaning and of course I had the time to get depressed and moan about the hopeless situation.
I felt whatever I would write about would be meaningless in front of the huge suffering of my people. Inside Syria or outside is a continuous hell. Without a homeland we became a burden on the world!
The last sentence drained my thoughts; it’s a heavy feeling! Normally when you’re visiting a friend or a relative and you’d feel you’ve become burden, you’d leave; you’d go back to your home, to a hotel, to somewhere else. Unfortunately we don’t have that luxury anymore!
I’ve come across a poem written in 1939, amazingly it describes the actual Syrian exodus! Europeans closed their doors in front of Jews because they were afraid of Hitler at that time. Or, that what they thought and said! What’s their excuse now? With the respect to countries who are taking the lead in accepting refugees and the many people in Europe and the world who are helping the Syrian refugees.
The frustration of feeling stranded between borders, in the sea and in our own home leads us to have one demand: STOP THE WAR! I wish if there were a magical wand to stop this fucking war!
I’ll stop here before pouring my anger and I’ll share with you the poem of W.H. Auden from Refugee Blues. It tells the Syrian’s people story, but instead of one Hitler we have many!
Say this city has ten million souls,
Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes:
Yet there’s no place for us, my dear, yet there’s no place for us.
Once we had a country and we thought it fair,
Look in the atlas and you’ll find it there:
We cannot go there now, my dear, we cannot go there now.
In the village churchyard there grows an old yew,
Every spring it blossoms anew:
Old passports can’t do that, my dear, old passports can’t do that.
The consul banged the table and said,
“If you’ve got no passport you’re officially dead”:
But we are still alive, my dear, but we are still alive.
Went to a committee; they offered me a chair;
Asked me politely to return next year:
But where shall we go to-day, my dear, but where shall we go to-day?
Came to a public meeting; the speaker got up and said;
“If we let them in, they will steal our daily bread”:
He was talking of you and me, my dear, he was talking of you and me.
Thought I heard the thunder rumbling in the sky;
It was Hitler over Europe, saying, “They must die”:
O we were in his mind, my dear, O we were in his mind.
Saw a poodle in a jacket fastened with a pin,
Saw a door opened and a cat let in:
But they weren’t German Jews, my dear, but they weren’t German Jews.
Went down the harbour and stood upon the quay,
Saw the fish swimming as if they were free:
Only ten feet away, my dear, only ten feet away.
Walked through a wood, saw the birds in the trees;
They had no politicians and sang at their ease:
They weren’t the human race, my dear, they weren’t the human race.
Dreamed I saw a building with a thousand floors,
A thousand windows and a thousand doors:
Not one of them was ours, my dear, not one of them was ours.
Stood on a great plain in the falling snow;
Ten thousand soldiers marched to and fro:
Looking for you and me, my dear, looking for you and me.