Παρασκευή, 11 Δεκεμβρίου 2015

10-12-2015.

International Human Rights Day. This is not a celebration. This is a reminder. There is not much to celebrate in a world, where the world "universal" loses its meaning and becomes priviledge of the few, of the West... How could anyone celebrate human rights, when, supposedly, the only requirement is being human -and it is constantly ignored or surpassed by certain criteria?
Today should be a reminder. Remember this day, for every person that was ever deprived of their fundamental rights, just for being different. For every voice that was ever silenced for expressing an opinion. For every human being being critisized, attacked or condemned for their gender, race, nationality, sexual orientation, political or religious views.
For every woman that was ever opressed inside her own family, or discriminated against in her work place, her town, her country; by her supervisors, her colleagues, the society.
Remember every child that ever lost its childhood due to a war, becoming a cold, nameless number. For every child, whose face and name the world would only learn after they were to drown landing on an uknown coast, never to wake up again.
Know them, respect them, defend them. Human rights shouldn't be in question. Neither should human lives.

Τρίτη, 1 Δεκεμβρίου 2015

Today, I am writing for you.

Today, I am writing for you.
Just for you.
You were doomed to a homeless, nameless, lifeless existence; you sacrificed yourself for wars you never chose.
You left your grounds for profits that were never meant for you.
You lost your home, your family and your life for reasons that were never explained to you.
You had your destiny written with bold letters by those who never cared about you.

You gave away your property and your whereabouts. They made you forget your past, grant them your present and doubt there will be a future.

You were screaming, but your lungs were filled with water and noone could hear you. You were drowning.

You became a number. A number counting the money they would earn, the guns they would need and the bullets they would waste. Counting the ones they would kill -and they did.

You still had a smile on. Even when they didn't care about your name. Even when you were a number, or a vague "them", or "just another refugee". Even when the media forgot about your struggle to survive. They never showed your past pictures, or talked about your past life. They never brought up your best friends' names, or your favourite colour, or that old song you used to play in the piano. It would be too much. There would be too many nightmares for the viewers to get to sleep with a clear conscience. Noone wants that. They just want good ratings. And your background was never as idyllic as the West. Even so, you still had a smile on.

We were complaining about the cold and searching for extra blankets in our houses; and you were freezing outside. But you had a smile on.

We were going on and on about the extra work we took home; and you were just dreaming about an education and a profession. You still had a smile on.

We didn't wanna set the alarm so early in the morning and we kept turning it off for an extra five minutes of sleep; you were grateful to finally get some sleep and wishing you could sleep on a real bed again. Yet, you never stopped smiling.

Your smiles make me believe you are forgiving the world for depriving you of your life and replacing it with a simple existence -in the best case scenario. I wish it was as easy for me to forgive myself for watching consecutive deaths on the news and standing there, unable to stop them.

But, please, remember your story. Even when they try to make you forget it -don't. Remember your favourite toy and the first poem they taught you at school. Remember the sunset from the rooftop; the days you were too bored to finish your homework, but you did anyway; the race with your friends, when you kept scoring second place; the fights with your brothers over the silliest reasons; that novel you wanted to write, but were always stuck on the first chapter; the family nights, when everyone ended up disagreeing on everything, but somehow their the best of memories; your favourite teacher and the suit he used to wear; that book that you could swear that was written for your childhood, chapter by chapter.

Remember your past, and let the world learn it, however hard it is. Stay strong on your present; because we all need you to have a future. We do. And today, I am writing for you. All of you.