Standing in the park with this little boy trying to retain my tears and I couldn’t.
Three years back; as I’m cruising down the streets of Dara (walking! of course), I see a group of kids clapping, yelling, chanting, jumping...surrounding 8 others kids playing basketball on a "clay court" with a soccer ball and trash cans hung on trees as basketball rims! One of the kids stands out, he’s young, athletic and talented, and his nickname is "Yakaar", which means "hope" in the native language. His friends said about him that "he’s so fast, you can only feel him."
In the shining sun, "Yakaar" and I are sitting by the river as I'm telling him how some players earn a lot of money playing basketball in the Western world. He looks surprised and says:
"Enough money, to buy my mom and my grandma food at the market?"
"Yes."
"Oh!.. Enough to buy the whole village food?"
"Well, since the five thousand people in this village live on less than a dollar a day...yes!"
Here, more than hopes and dreams, people need “miracles." Half of the kids in this village die of disease or malnutrition before they reach the age of 10. Dara is one of those poor villages where children die quietly, far removed from the scrutiny and the conscience of the world.
Less than a year later, Yakaar’s grandma passed away. To escape humiliation, powerlessness and the brutal hardship that is their daily, the little boy, his mom and dad, decided to try the “Western world” adventure; dreaming of a better life for each one of them.To immigrate to Europe is very hard, so the family turns to traffickers” to smuggle them into the continent by boat; taking on the vast ocean is not any easier; 300 people piled up in a tiny little wooden fishing boat for 40 people. A 10 day trip, that takes the "boat people” from the African coast to the European coast.
Like many others before them, the overloaded boat capsizes about 100 miles from the coast of the Canary Islands. Only ten people survive. After a couple of weeks in the hospital, Yaakar is handed to the Red Cross, to an orphanage, and then goes from one shelter to another.
“Dry your tears, it's over now, I'm still alive." he said
"Well, how about your parents?”
"look at this fountain" he replied, pointing, " its called Fuente de las Conchas, its my favorite; look at the child on top of the sculpture hugging the dolphin, they look inseparable..."
He suddenly looks away, as the sun is disappearing below the lost horizon; then says very softly with a broken voice as tears streaming down his cheeks.
"The boat was overcrowded and my dad was sick during the journey, he stopped breathing so they threw him overboard in the middle of the sea, and......my mom couldn't stand seeing my dad gone, so she followed him; she jumped. Yes, she did!!”
He pauses for a second, slowly lifts his head to look at me straight in the eyes, his heart is deeply pained; he looks disoriented, with the sadness and anger in his eyes, he asks as he's gasping for air:
“What happened? Why am i here? Please tell me."
My song: Peter Gabriel & Kate Bush- Don't give up
