Late in the afternoon when the wind picked up, the sky darkened, and people were rushing home. Mustafa was on the field was. He is an Egyptian volunteer translator in Lesbos, turned gravedigger; he rose up to a burning duty: to offer a dignified burial to his fellow brothers in faith. In this foreign land, Mustafa is a student, a migrant who managed to safely cross the cold-hearted Mediterranean to Greece. A case when a student visa offers a safe way out.
After bodies piled on the shores of Greece, Mustafa decided to bury dead refugees, Syrians and others. To honor them and let their beat bodies rest in peace. Today he buried two women and a seven-year-old boy. Laying down the body of a child hits him the hardest. Being the last person to touch this kid’s corpse before trusting him to earth.
After he laid down the boy in his grave, the old Greek lady from the grave next to his greeted him. The child made an effort to introduce himself: Sami is my name, and this is Leila next to me. She is not my mother. Last time I saw my mom was the night the planes bombed Aleppo. She trusted me to her cousin— my aunt. I cried my heart out that night as my mom kissed me and promised to soon join me once we reach Greece. My father was the owner of a successful sweetshop. At school, before the war, my teacher spoke often of a spring— Arab and splendid. I imagined green fields, butterflies, happy children, and everything sweet. I imagined our classroom to have wide windows, big backyard,
and lots of crayons of various colors. I love to draw birds and happy faces.
The men ordered the war: many of us were killed, displaced,
our lives suspended. Nothing has changed then, the woman interrupted. I have lived through two devastating wars.
Futile murder, savage and inhuman; the systematic killing
of innocent people— being Jewish was their only crime. It left permanent stains of shame on our humanity.
In the name of something abstract, people take away the most concrete thing of all: life. In the name of something or the other, our continent killed over sixty million people.
I see you are tired. It must have been a rough trip. Your mom will find you. I know that because mothers keep their promises. My name is Maria and I am pleased to have known you my dear Sami.
