I am not sure why it has taken me so long to say something. It has been brewing for months. No, let’s say years. And now it is at the boiling point. Or, should we say it is boiling over. I am of course talking about the crazy, insane, terrible, heart wrenching, atrocious, to-cry-over refugee situation that is unfolding in front of our eyes in Europe.
The last couple of weeks the images of desperate people fleeing the horrors of war have haunted me. The photo of the weeping dad holding his children.
The photo of families creeping under the barbed-wire fences built to keep them out. Children crying. The photo of the dad with a sleeping child on his shoulders, selling pens to provide for his family.
And today, the photos of little Aylan dead on a beach in Turkey.
Later watching an interview with his dad, full of grief and guilt. He was not able to save his little family from drowning. Now his two sons and his wife are all gone. “All I want to do is to sit by their graves,” he said, lips quivering.
I have watched the news and read the papers, I have followed the trail of refugees online and I have marveled at our politicians and leaders who seem to be moving in molasses when decisions have to be made. Worse still are the politicians who consistently claim that our countries cannot and should not, under any circumstance, allow any of these desperate people to cross our borders. I watch, listen and wonder how they got in a position of power. Who were the people who elected them? Not my friends, I hope.
Little by little it is dawning on me: Why am I sitting here, watching the biggest refugee crisis the world has seen since WWII unfold in front of my eyes? Why am I waiting for our politicians to make up their minds about the value of human lives? Why do I think that I am personally exempt from getting involved? These people are me, they are my children, my husband, my friends and neighbors. Why should I not personally help them?
While discouraged about the lack of concern of the world leaders, and appalled by callous attitudes by some, I am also starting to see a movement across the world. I read today about a couple who sold their car and their vacation tickets to get money to help. I heard of a man seeing the photo of the dad selling pens for a living finding out who the man in the photo was, then raising thousands of dollars for him and his family. (http://www.techinsider.io/photo-of-a-syrian-man-trying-to-sell-pens-2015-9) I hear of families giving away their clothes and other belongings, of others offering a place to stay. I hear of children doing bake sales, and of grandmothers raising funds.
There may be some big mouths with loud voices saying that we are over-burdened, and in no place to help desperate people. There may be people in power who are more concerned by the next election than by people coming to their shores. But am starting to see that there is also a new move, a wave of people who are willing to do more than talk. They are taking the issue in their own hands and they are doing the only right thing to do: Getting involved.
They are doing more than clicking Like on Facebook posts. They are doing something that involve sacrifice and work. They are refusing to let history to be made. They are making history. They are not the bystanders. They are the movers. May the number of people like these multiply many times!
As I am writing this I am reminded of Martin Luther King Jr. who said “It may well be that we will have to repent in this generation. Not merely for the vitriolic words and the violent actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence and indifference of the good people who sit around and say, “Wait on time.”