Refugee. So I referred to myself, stuck in London, unable to get home – trapped – because of some random volcanic eruption.
There were many like me….
We had refugee dinners, made refugee jokes, bought refugee supplies – you get the picture.
Half of my various in-boxes – my social communities – were about the crazy adventures, the exciting plans, the pains in the ass, the searches for transportation and escape routes: private planes, boats, cars, buses, coaches…and then by Thursday, stories of getting on the first planes home.
From country to country, through deserts, jungles and city streets. By rail, cab, motor coach, small planes. With friends, strangers, anyone who would split costs. Someone even did the “Rick route” – Lisbon – but never found Sam…and so it went.
Me, I stayed in London – went to the office and made jokes –
Until the full impact of the week became apparent.
People sleeping on cots in airports because they had nowhere else to go; people sharing food (meager at that) because they had run out of money; couples with little children stuck in the middle of nowhere with maxed-out credit cards and no way to get help…and on and on.
The adventure part started to sour and the idea of the “I Survived the Volcano” T-shirt began to sour as well.
All of which led me to look at the word “refugee” again and the flippant way we all used it – and frankly, I was embarrassed. NOTE TO SELF:
ref·u·gee
Pronunciation: \re-fyu̇-jē, re-fyu̇- .\
Function: noun
Etymology: French réfugié, past participle of (se) réfugier to take refuge, from Middle French refugier, from Latin refugium
Date: 1685: one that flees; especially : a person who flees to a foreign country or power to escape danger or persecution
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Refugee
http://www.refugeesinternational.org/
And there you have it. For some of us it was an inconvenience and we made the most of it – and yes, it was OK to joke. For others, it was truly an ordeal and hopefully those who need it will be made whole again – or at least close to it.
But, you see, in the end we all had somewhere to go back to – and the worst of it was not being able to get there.
I somehow imagine that to the real refugees the Air Travel Ban was a nonevent – in the camps and way stations and hovels and in hiding they can only hope to get beyond it all, to find someplace to go. Home is more of a dream than a slightly deferred return.
And that made me a little more humble and reflective – as you can see – on my own good luck and kind fortune.
Putting it all together reminded me of the words of one of my favorite poets:
In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.
– Robert Frost
And as I finally wing my way back home (or almost anyway), I am mindful of how grateful I am for a place to go back to and I can only wonder if push came to shove – if I would have the real fortitude to just get on with it.
Life goes on….
Your view?
It sounds like a humbling experience. Hope us Londoners treated you well
To put some scale around the plight of refugees, the UNHCR estimates 10.5 million refugees worldwide, half of whom are in Asia and nearly a quarter in Africa: http://www.unhcr.org/pages/49c3646c1d.html
Worse still, many commentators estimate upwards of another 25 million are ‘internally displaced’ peoples ie refugees in their own country. Dare I mention, of these a staggering 1.5 million are in Iraq: http://www.refugeesinternational.org/policy/field-report/iraq-humanitarian-needs-persist
Life does go on, but tenuously and meagerly for many millions.
That’s a fantastic point of view.
I didn’t passed through this experience. But, I was wondering how a simple nature event can stop the hole world and also provoke us think about our actions.
We are so small…
Life goes on but meagerly…..
Funny thing, that while you took “refuge’ in London from the disruptions, I often describe myself as a “refugee” from England who came to the United States to find a better life. What we clearly have in common, though, is our gratitude that the United states was there for both of us to take us in, welcome us home, and give our families a wonderful place to thrive.
Hey David! Hope London suited you and you suited London
Tony, you struck a deep chord with your note on immigrants and the similarities with refugees ! Fortitude & faith as one builds a new life in a new land and yet the constant longing for the homeland is an innate part of the immigrant story, it is also the story of America! (Interesting books to read – the pulitzer prize winning “interpreter of maladies” and “unaccustomed earth” by Jhumpa Lahiri)
You found a second home, some of us are still searching and hope to find it one day either by where love leads us or by creating it ourselves.
One of my grand-fathers came to the US to escape persecution. He was forever grateful — nebre longed for what he left behind — but started new — never lost his thick Russian accent but was a real Yankee — lived in a small town with all the trimmings — fortitude and faith it was.
We may not be escaping anything but seeking all that we can become and more. We soemtimes come from cultures that leave an indelible imprint and there are ties that we leave behind that are an unbreakable bond but yes America was and is the immigrant’s dream….