I was 22 years old when I had to leave my homeland, South Africa. I had no choice. I was living underground for a year by then, to avoid being arrested. This was 1987, in the midst of one of the most bloody and violent periods in the history of Apartheid South Africa. The green peaceful streets of Oxford, where I was lucky enough to end up, seemed like a cartoon to me. They seemed unreal, while the violence I left behind felt very real and near. I stayed awake at night thinking of friends and relatives left behind.
I remember these feelings now every time I look at the heartbreaking images of people fleeing devastation – whether floods in Bangladesh or war in Syria. The images of desperate parents holding on to their children, trying to get them through barbed wired fences, or off small inflatable boats. I see them and I think about my own daughter. How would I feel if I was one of these parents? When I fled, I had only myself to care for.
‘No one leaves home’ writes Kenyan born Somali poet Warsan Shire, ‘unless home is the mouth of a shark’. ‘No one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land’.
21st September marks the International Day of Peace. And this year, again, there is not much peace around to celebrate.
In Syria alone – according to some estimates one of two Syrians has died or fled home since the war began. According to the UN 7.6 million are internally displaced. 4.1 million refugees are abroad. Most of them in countries surrounding Syria. Some are turning to Europe as a safe haven.
There are times when drawing borders between countries, people, between politics and the environment must stop. There comes a time when all that matters is humanity and solidarity. This is such a time. The acts of courage and compassion shown by so many individuals and communities across Europe I find deeply inspiring.