Showing posts with label refugee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label refugee. Show all posts

Friday, April 18, 2014

Don't Want To Live Like A Refugee

This rather lush Greek book promotion says we are all refugees and author Dimitris Karavasilis asks, what if the our children don't have any memories of Asia Minor? What if they don't feel it in their soul? An obvious fear, since many of those children read English and the stories are in Greek.

Friday, September 7, 2012

Turkish Boat Sinks: 30 Refugee Kids Drown

On their way from near Izmir, Turkey, apparently headed to the Greek isle of Samos by night, 61 migrants with mostly Syrian, Iraqi and Palestinian passports drowned Thursday, according to an NBC story.
Half were children. The Turkish crew survived and was arrested.
Greece has complained for years that it cannot control its porous, coastal borders and that it is being used as a gateway to Europe. Greece also receives EU aide for illegal migrants.
The Onassis Foundation in New York hosted an amazing installation several years ago on this theme. The artist created whitewashed boats, shaped like giant pods containing beans, and suspended them over flowing water in the noisy Onassis atrium.
The New Yorkers pushed and drank and left. Do they remember?
The latest drownings are deja vu: see the book described in my post below on the David Kherdian family story, circa 1920.And of course, there is our family story, among countless others.
No transit, no safety, no identity, and no protector in authority. Is migrant and refugee desperation and suffering a fact of life in the world?

Saturday, August 18, 2012

We Are So Fortunate

The curls and somber face on a used book have transported me each night in a rather delirious week ... with only a little bread and water, feeling ill .... over mountains, through villages, past gendarmes ... on a horse-drawn wagon full of refugees. It was 1915. This biography has gripped me because the narrator, Veron, not only looks like my grandmother and was the age of my grandmother in 1915, but lived near my grandmother in Turkey. She tells a story my grandmother never wrote down, but could have, about the refugees' escape and the futility of hate. And what motivates hate and war: money and power.
Seared in the mind of a child and written for posterity by her son, Veron speaks simply without judgement and tells of violence, starvation, lies, death and, miraculously, hope and love.
Each day we breathe, we must remember our unlikely fortune. Each of us is a survivor with a purpose.
Read "The Road Home," by David Kherdian. A Newberry Honor Book. 1979, Greenwillow Books, New York.