THE SYRIAN ADRIFT WITHOUT ACNUR

It was one of those stories told with a quiet and restrained gesture. The shivering little three year old walked aimlessly in the dark cold night. He was alone, helpless. His sight was heartbreaking. It was not possible not to pick him up and comfort him. He had lost his family in the midst of hundreds of thousands of people walking through the snowy mountains in their quest for a save refuge across the border. Terrified and in shock he could not even remember his name. He was lucky. A young man picked him up and nursed him until he found his family months later. But tens of thousands of children, elderly and sick were left behind, homeless at night with no blankets and no food.

Fortunately, some NGOs, including UNHCR, managed to reach and assist them. They were my, but also your, ultimately, our kind: Iraqi Kurds, Afghans, Bosnians, Guatemalans, Saharans, Sudanese, etc ... people like us who due to natural disasters, armed conflicts or political repression were forced to leave their homes to save their lives.

POLITICS AND THE ABSURD THEATRE

It is inevitable to refer to what happened this week although the events are disheartening and boredom imposes some reluctance to the conversation. So, when my friend said that it was just another theatre’s act, it took me a few seconds to react because my imagination flew over two thousand years ago, at a time when the Athenians (male, free and over 20 years, of course) expressed their opinion in an open forum with the utmost eloquence and, I suppose, with great gestures to convince his listeners. I flew to the republican Rome, where I could see myself sitting on one cold Carrara marble bench listening attentively to the speech of a Senator, one of the representatives of the civilization and culture of his time. I would watch perhaps with skepticism, perhaps with fascination, the expression on his face, the movement of his hands, his walk while he attempted to convince his listeners. My mind flew over the dark times of the Middle Ages to a seat in the mid-nineteenth century British Parliament where I would attend, most likely with tedium, the speech of a "lord" trying to gain support for a government post.