“Our country is going through an unspeakable tragedy. […] Greece is grieving and we are declaring three days of national mourning in memory of those who lost their lives”. Those were the words of the Greek prime minister, Alexis Tsipras, spoken on television on July 24th, and they came as quite a shock.
Doesn’t water normally put fires out? So how come water didn’t extinguish this one? Why did the wind blow so violently? Why in the heat of the summer did the wind increase its speed and fan the flames?
Listening to the news took me back to that winter when I stepped onto the soft earth of your island with my frozen feet. You rushed to help me, you held me and squeezed my icy hands with your warm ones.
As soon as my eyes fell upon the beauty of your island and my heart sensed your kindness, I swore to myself that even if one day my eyes forgot, my heart never would. I prayed that one day I would be able to repay the kindness that you all showed me.
I wrote about you in this newspaper. “You are a teacher of kindness and I am your best pupil”, I said. You were indeed my teacher and I, as the first-class pupil that I am, am hastening to help you. I wanted my help to run deep and to soak through you, and for my gratitude to flow in your veins. But while the fire was burning you, the flames of racism were shooting at me and burning me.
I went to a hospital in Athens to donate blood, but they told me that Afghans are not allowed to. I asked why and they said it was government policy and other such excuses that I didn’t understand. I want to donate my blood, I said, and you need the government’s permission? Am I to presume that the victims of the fire are requesting blood that is redder than an Afghan’s? I walked out of the hospital with flames consuming my soul and fire burning my veins.
Dear friend, you must know that I rushed to you, as you did when I first arrived. I accepted your help with heart and soul, but my help was refused.
I went home with a broken heart, but also with the hope that the fire that continues to burn your lives, your possessions, your homes and your cities will slowly be extinguished.
Tell me now, how do you and I cope with our scorched hearts?
* This article has been published in issue #10 of “Migratory Birds” newspaper, which was released as an annex with “Efimerida ton Syntakton” newspaper (Newspaper of the Editors) on October 20th 2018.
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