Aylan Kurdi

Over a week ago I was scrolling through my Facebook feed and I saw an image which stopped me in my tracks. I know now that thousands, maybe even millions, of people had the same reaction. There he was, a little boy face down in the sand, waves lapping around his lifeless body. Aylan Kurdi drowned alongside his brother Galip and their mother while attempting to cross perilous waters to safety.
I can’t shut my eyes at night without seeing his little body. I can’t hold my daughter without feeling absolute relief that for the grace of God we were born in a country where an illegal and dangerous passage in a boat is not likely to feature in our lifetime.
I don’t know if it’s being a mother that has burned the image into my closed eyelids so prominently. I believe that I would have been as strongly affected by poor Aylan’s death and the image of his still body before I had Nives, but I wouldn’t have seen her sleeping face in his. I wouldn’t have ached in the same way. I wouldn’t have felt the absolute need to say; my darling girl you are my world.
I have been in a country when bombs have fallen. I have escaped an air attack in a car and a boat, driven to an island not ten miles from our home - not even open sea - and I remember, at the age of 14, how terrifying that was. I see the children, I see them as they are forced to kneel in the mud, terrified at the Macedonian border, as they beg for bread at the Hungarian border. I see them on my television and I feel so sad. And I feel so angry. I’m burning with anger. Anger that in this day and age humans are treated like cattle, that countries are closing their borders, that toddlers are drowning because families have no other choice but to risk their lives in perilous seas. I’m so fucking sad and so fucking angry and so fucking ashamed of this government that I can’t even speak about it.

Read: http://ind.pn/1K36mFF
Sign: http://bit.ly/1ET7qNv