Travelling with Linda

by Davide Madeddu (Italy)

I didn't expect to find Greece

TRAVELLING WITH LINDA Greece, two-week break in Lesvos Island, refugee camp of Kara Tepe: I sit on a bench outside, exhausted after another day with 45 degrees in the shade. We’ve been sailing for about a month with a ship (we’re actors, artists, musicians, journalists) in the Aegean Sea in order to bring art and hope to the children who escaped from the war in Syria. I sit on the bench and we see one another, our souls recognize each other: she runs toward me, her hands stretched for the hug. Next to me a colleague watches the scene and he can’t hold the tears, he walks away saying that it’s too beautiful to bare. Her name’s Linda, she’s 8 years old, she’s a Kurdish Yazidi child and I would like her to be my daughter. What I feel is love, at first sight. Linda is very attentive to me and a bit jealous too, she shares me only with her cousin Onalia, but keeps at a distance the other girls. She’s protective and strong, everybody knows her: she’s already met pope Francesco, Barak Obama, Ban Ki-moon, even the Dalai Lama. Sometimes Linda makes me a present and so do I: we exchange pictures, bracelets, drawings, cuddles, smiles, something to drink, food. She takes my hand and guides me throughout the camp, she says that one day I’ll be her husband and we both giggle at the idea. Linda divides the world into two categories: ‘good’ and ‘no good’. A child who steals my bandana? No good. Onalia who plays with me? Good. Me who has to go away? No good. The last day before leaving we went to the sea, Linda, Onalia, the other kids and me; good. From the beach you could barely distinguish the Turkish shores: in that stretch of water many people drowned and some of their clothes still cover the surface of the sea; no good. For one morning, anyway, that place becomes our playground and it doesn’t scare anymore: we joke together, we splash and have fun, we exchange hugs in a beautiful party where everyone’s invited; good. When it’s time we bring our things, we pass through a hole in the barbed-wire, walking on the dust, among the garbage and the junks, before returning to the tents. It’s time to say goodbye, some of them understands it, some doesn’t accept it: Linda seems to be lost in her thoughts, for the first time since I know her, she looks absent and far. We hug and look each other, we’re both full of tears that won’t run down our faces in that moment, so we say farewell. My Linda, wonderful creature of this planet, black eyed Linda with your magnetic smile and your inspiring strength, I know we will meet again and it won’t happen in a refugee camp, but you’ll be free. You learned by yourself how to get by in this hard world and being respected, how to set your rules without being exploited by no one. I will never forget that morning when, knackered after work, I asked to rest by your tent: you summoned the other children and briefed them, then you made a bed in the shade, you sang a lullaby and watched over my sleep. This world needs human beings like you, so caring toward thy neighbour. Your uncle, Atoo, recently sent me a photo of you: you grew up, you’re 12 now Linda, you live in Germany and have the melancholic gaze of a person who saw things that no one should ever see in life, but you succeeded at last, you’re a winner and now your real travel can begin: and this is good, very good.