The first thing Murtaza said to me was thank you. “Thank you for letting me share my story,” he whispered through tears down the phone.
Murtaza is a 15-year-old refugee who has just been placed with a family in Sweden. He travelled for months on his own, through Afghanistan, Turkey and the Balkans, to try and escape a violent and hopeless life in Iraq. Most of his family reached Pakistan, while his father is presumed dead.
Murtaza had his own story to tell, but there are more than 19,500,000 refugees worldwide today, and each one has their own unique story. They are parents, children, siblings and friends. They are artists, musicians, teachers and doctors. They are people. And they have names.
When I first started working on this edition of escapism, I worried about how I could do their stories justice. How could I condense a crisis of such vast proportions into one issue of a magazine?
The answer is, quite simply, that I can’t. But after meeting volunteers and refugees in Calais and Greece, listening to their experiences first-hand and seeing what they’ve been forced to leave behind, what I can confidently say is this: we must do something. This doesn’t just mean donating money or, on the other extreme, quitting your job to become a refugee aid worker. It’s also about understanding – about curiosity, listening, learning, and welcoming our new neighbours with warmth and kindness.
I’m grateful for an opportunity that has opened my eyes to an unjust and painful reality that’s also full of courage, humanity and, ultimately, hope
What struck me most about my conversation with Murtaza was how lonely he sounded. Finally he had reached sanctuary and safety only to be confronted with a whole new battle. He is surrounded by people, yet feels so alone, so far from home.
And that’s why I’ve signed up to a programme to mentor a young refugee, through a project that I had no idea existed until I started working on this issue. Me? A mentor? I’m pretty sure it’ll be the other way around.
So, along with pages highlighting refugees’ stories, and how other people have taken action, within this magazine you’ll have found other ways that you can get involved in supporting refugees – whether it’s through raising awareness and money, or simply by making new friends.
When I became a travel writer I never expected to cover an issue like this, but I’m grateful for an opportunity that has opened my eyes to an unjust and painful reality that’s also full of courage, humanity and, ultimately, hope.
This crisis affects us all, and we all have a part to play in how it unfolds. There are many ways you can get involved, but the most important thing is that you do get involved.
Please, take action today.
