I just saw my dad right now, and I am crying. He just got out of the car. He smiled, and as his friend was leaving he asked him to stop. He then opened the car’s boot, took the pizza out, and knocked on the door. The first step inside the house and his smile vanished; his tone of voice became sad. I am not seeing him right now, but I feel him, and this fills me up with horror, terror, and fear. I don’t want to see him sad anymore. Can you promise me something? Don’t be selfish! Don’t absorb them within you, like you just did with me. Leave them alone. I beg you. Please … and give me some hope; give me the courage and strength to change. I want to go back to me.

He was right. After all, we are all human beings. An English is no better than an Albanian or a German or a French, in the same way as an Albanian or a German or a French is no better than an English. This is what people have to understand. The good values of a human being lie deep within his or her character; they do not appear in nationality or possessions.

I had decided to make my fears formal, and Mum’s reaction mirrored her big worry too.
The noise of the clock hands was becoming clearer and louder as the seconds passed by. Time was crucial. We were waiting for the door handle to turn, for that quick, sudden movement that would fade our fears and set us free in the peace of living together. But that was not coming, and we were dying just to get some news from them. A simple three-second phone call to let us know they were safe and sound. What could have happened? Could it be that they had been returned to Albania? Or something else, something a lot worse than this … I didn’t want to let my thoughts go too far.

For a moment, the dead silence was dominating inside the restaurant we were in. Everyone was speechless, staring blankly, rendering the meaning of the problems meaningless, for nobody bothered to discuss the matter further. Or perhaps the silence itself was a severe symptom of how much importance we were giving to the matter itself. It probably was too meaningful. With her head down, Eliza sat quietly in the chair, and with a light movement reached for the baby and took him away from Hadi’s arms as if he was the only force that she now possessed. The baby felt the movement and started to cry. Little by little, the intensity of his cry presented the finishing line of our conversation. With a quick kiss, we said good luck and goodbye.

What is a refugee?

You, who, suffered and fell from the high mountains into the dirty mud, into which anybody could step.

You’re a strong person, I would say, for you did not die when you were fully humiliated and profoundly hurt in the spirit that kept you alive.

You’re a success, I would say, for the darkness did not embrace your vision. The light was there! Its intensity stayed still, deep within, and busted out this enormous love for a better life.

.‘Oh, so you do speak English?’ the lady asked.

‘Yes, we do,’ we replied.

‘That’s great to be able to speak at this early age,’ she said while nodding her head with appreciation. ‘So you must be identical twins, is that true?’

‘We suppose it is,’ we replied.

‘It should be, because I really can’t tell you two apart. What’s the difference?’ Read the rest of this entry »