One less plate to fill ….

My husband and I dropped off our eldest son at University on Sunday.  He is in halls of residence, we made sure his cupboards were full of food and he had some money before his loan comes through.  We are stretching our finances to the maximum to pay for his accommodation, but we do it because we want him (and all our sons) to have choices and a future.

Its taking me a while to get used to filling one less plate, each time I feel a sense of loss.  My son has texted once since he left, I wish it was more – but its an improvement on how often I contacted my parents whilst I was at University.  They were lucky to hear from my every few months.

As we left him at University, to ‘fend for himself’ I know that any harm he comes to (which obviously I hope is none) will likely be self inflicted.  He has a room, a bed, food, some money, shelter and his future is firmly in his hands.

I think about what it would be like for my husband and I to pull together all the money we had, not to send Joe to University, but to put him in the hands of a smuggler and send him to a foreign land across the sea in a flimsy boat.  I wonder how I would feel as I mistakenly put out an extra plate for the ‘nth time since he left. I imagine I would not feel an uneasy sense of loss, but an overwhelming anxiety tinged with some hope. In this case, Joe’s future would not be firmly in his hands, but in the hands of criminals and at the whim of politicians and bureaucracy.

Then I think of a young man just a few months older than my son that I met in a Military Camp in Northern Greece.  Hamid is 19 years old and is a quietly confident, calm, handsome and dignified man who always looked incredibly smart and always wears a shy wide smile.  He is the son of a dentist and was in his first year studying medicine when he and his family were forced to send him away to keep him safe and give him the best chance of  continuing his studies.  He has been in Greece in camps for around 9 months.

Hamid is desperate to learn and continue his studies.  My friend, Rosemary, who came out to Greece with me is an English teacher.  Each day Hamid would wait patiently until she had a spare half hour to conduct an English class and set him some homework.  He would help with translating and distribution whenever needed, and it was clear that all residents in the camp had respect and love for him.

His family remains in Damascus, he says they are safe.  His preferred destination is Germany or Holland, but without immediate family living there, its unsure whether he will get his wish or when he will be relocated.  He loves to play chess and watch National Geographic films, he loves to learn and is ambitious.

I don’t know of any refugees in Greece who have been relocated through the official channels, the only ‘good news’ stories seem to involve large sums of money and smugglers.  The system is slow, complicated and like a mountain you are climbing and each peak you reach allows you to see the next peak, seemingly endless and sapping of energy.

Hamid is intelligent and optimistic, I am sure that he will make something of his life, regardless of how many additional peaks the authorities add to the mountain he is climbing.  But this cannot be the case for everyone in this situation, the longer this goes on the harder it will be for people to readjust.  Winter is coming, for many this is the second winter in a tent, this makes me for very ashamed of my country and of the EU.

These people are not skittles, they are not terrorists, they don’t need saving or pitying and they are no different from my family or your family.  The only difference is the mountain they have to climb keeps changing, their future is no longer in their control.

The only barriers are an illusion put up by extremists and those in power to divide the people so they fear and are suspicious of their fellow humans.

People to people solidarity