A few years ago, my daughter went to Brindisi, a beautiful coastal town on the heel of Italy and a destination for thousands of migrants from north Africa and the middle east. Some of the migrants she met had left their homes for economic reasons, often sponsored by entire villages to travel to Europe where they imagined the streets would be paved with gold. Others were escaping from wars, famine and oppression, desperate people who felt they had no future in the country of their birth.
Because of the heat, many migrants would escape the refuge centres, spending their days by cooling fountains in Brindisi's town square. This is where my daughter talked to many of the travellers, some of whom had suffered greatly in their quest for the west.
No matter where they came from, they were forced to travel through Libya, a perilous journey. Not only were they prey to traffickers, but also to kidnappers, rapists, and crooked militia. Some unfortunate travellers were badly beaten and even killed if a ransom couldn't be paid.
One man told a heartbreaking story. He began his journey with his wife and child who were both kidnapped and held to ransom. Having managed to secure their release, the family reached the coast where a rubber boat was waiting to ferry them to Italy, but there was only room for two of them, so the man stayed behind, waiting for another vessel. This second boat reached Brindisi safely. The first boat didn't. The man's family drowned.
Other migrants also suffered harrowing experiences, so much so, that on reaching their destination, and despite finding work as planned, they pleaded with the family and friends they'd left behind not to follow their example. No amount of prosperity was worth the dangers and unimaginable cruelty they had faced.
During her stay, my daughter heard many such stories, shattering her faith in humanity and her belief that most people in the world are basically good. Yet, one thing impressed her, something every migrant she met held in common.
Not one of them blamed God.
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| A perfect beach for holidaymakers |
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| One of the camps for migrants |
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| Brindisi at night |
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