Long day's journey into light

by Pedro Nogueira (Portugal)

A leap into the unknown Myanmar

Moustapha wasn’t a deserter, an outlaw or troublesome in any way. He was just a regular man with a wife and a kid, who’d wanted to see the world. Nevertheless, he utterly believed that he wouldn’t be allowed to board the plane to Cambodia, his last destination before going home. I didn’t take his money-related worries very seriously, but this was a member of MY species, asking for MY help to finally be reunited with his family. How could I have said no? The following weeks, we discussed the matter exhaustively! After squeezing all the French vocabulary buried in my head, I would always end our conversations the same way: with a not so reassuring «Don’t worry! We’ll go together. Everything will be fine.» The day finally arrived! The flight was at 13:25, but at sunrise, we were already in a truck alongside a quartet of monks, ready to be dropped in the city center. I was sitting motionless on the back of the truck, but wandering insanely in the oneiric world through all the possible outcomes of our little endeavor. The extra time to reflect didn’t prepare me for the harsh demands of the check-in: Moustapha was asked to show two thousand US dollars in hand to continue! «Is everything OK?» I intervened. «You’re together?! Well, your friend needs 2000 dollars in hand to check in.» Moustapha lost it: «It’s because I’m black! It’s because of my skin!» I tried to calm him down. His response, with a wavering voice and his eyes devoid of hope, was simply: «Merci! Go! Don’t lose the plane.» The game wasn’t lost yet, though. I asked for solutions, for alternatives, I even appealed to their common sense, after all, Moustapha had bought the tickets. We were told this happened frequently. He wouldn’t be granted entry in Cambodia and he’d be returned to Myanmar. With no money and no visa for re-entry, he would be stuck in the airport. After a few days, the police would come to take him away. More problems for Myanmar! I summoned all the feelings you can possibly conjure in one sentence and I said: «Please, help us. Let us at least try. Isn’t there something you can do?» Phone calls were made, experts were consulted and, after much negotiation, we were allowed to pass with 500 dollars in hand and a warning: they would re-check the money. We managed to arrive in Thailand, our layover, with only minor complications. While we were waiting for the next flight, Moustapha made a video call and introduced me to his “femme”, who thanked me with tears threatening to leave her eyes. Later, I started watching Star Trek, a beautifully made series that attempted «to say that humanity will reach maturity and wisdom on the day that it begins not just to tolerate, but take a special delight in differences in ideas and differences in life forms». It seems poetic that Star Trek would allow us to continue our trip: I was so focused on it, we missed the calls for the flight; Moustapha was the one that realized we were being personally called on the speakers. With all the hecticness of the situation, they drove us to the plane without further ado. We arrived in Cambodia at night and I faced no problems whatsoever, once again. Moustapha, however, was taken “to answer some questions”. Twenty minutes passed and I was called as well. This time, the officer wasn’t as understanding. In fact, I was soon asked to leave. I had gone through control already, but they ripped the license from my passport and started asking me questions such as «If you were in Switzerland before, why don’t you have a stamp in your passport?» (because of the Schengen Agreement, by the way). I was allowed in the country again and, soon after, came Moustapha. He looked at me with the same anguish as before, but his lips didn’t move this time. I suppose all his strength had worn out… I couldn’t believe it… As I lifted my chin to take one last look at my friend, the officer told him: «You have 15 days! Enjoy your stay!» The sound of the stamp echoed throughout the empty building.