These days, I sometimes feel a deep sense of sorrow and sadness and I cry in my loneliness, so hard that my shoulders are shaking, much like the day when two of my little students, Hiva and Bavān, lost their eyes and legs on the path to the rural school.
They had stepped on a leftover mine from the war. Many times, my existence is filled with despair and distress and I feel helpless, like the day when my 12-year-old student, Leila, out of fear and to escape a forced marriage to an elderly man, threw herself into a river near their house and drowned.
Some nights fear grips me and I tremble as I did when I was a seven-year-old child and the sounds of bullets and armed clashes between Kurdish forces and the central government of Iran continued through the night until morning in our streets and alleys, and I saw bloodied bodies on both sides of the conflict scattered in every corner.
I am from the Middle East. The land of oil and war! The smell of gunpowder and blood always permeates the air there.
The people of the Middle East have been kept in petrification and bigotry, and this petrification and bigotry is like accumulated gasoline ready to explode at any moment when a small match is struck.
The horrible Angels of Death, like the blot of ugly clouds, cast a permanent shadow of terror upon the children’s faces there.
Each year, on a completely irrational pretext, they wrap their filthy hands around the fragile necks of the children.
With a mixture of barbarity and cruelty, they kneel upon children’s feeble chests and draw their swords to turn them into lifeless and blood-soaked dolls. In the end, they derive pleasure from this gory act and laugh loudly.
Although I am now in Britain, cradle of civilization, culture, urbanisation and security in the world, traces of my grief and stress still linger.
It’s as if I’ve locked all that sorrow, despair, fear, and trembling in a tightly sealed box and brought it with me.
The long wait for my asylum application to be accepted here, and being far from my family, has made my conditions even more challenging. Exile and seeking asylum in Britain are truly a difficult and complex process.
Often, I feel powerless in the face of these circumstances, and my heart longs to escape from here, back to the land of gunpowder and blood, despite all the life-threatening dangers that await me.
I sit in the corner of my room, clasp my knees, and think to myself whether I should give up or not, if I should continue?
I search for only one reason and source of joy to resist the hardships. I find it in the presence of angels in our place of residence – wingless angels who come to visit us refugees, every day.
They are beautiful and kind, with smiling and energetic faces. It’s no exaggeration to say that they have prioritised our lives over the demands of their own.
They sacrifice their time and energy for us without any expectations.
I don’t know if they are Christians, Muslims, Jews, or perhaps a different breed of humanity, or perhaps of no
religion at all?
But I am captivated by the philosophy and way they nurture people. How can one think that someone can love others more than themselves?
It’s hard to believe, but these angels are exactly like that.
How wondrous these volunteers from West Berkshire Action for Refugees and Care4Calais are!
I wish I could speak English like my mother tongue (Kurdish) and express my feelings to each of them. I want to say to them: ‘we refugees appreciate every moment you spend on us’.
I want to say that each of your smiles is a ray of light in the dark house of our difficult lives these days. I want to say we are indebted to all your kindness and we are grateful for all your efforts.
In fact, you are the ones who give real meaning to some words in the dictionary. It’s through your behaviour that all understand what humanity means and what love is! Without a doubt, words like kindness, goodness, and hope will be ashamed to see your behaviour and will understand their actual true meaning.
Certainly, words like sacrifice and help will bow before you.
Not only we asylum seekers, but all of humanity and societies should honour you for your love of humanity.
You keep the wheel of kindness turning despite all the hardships and challenges in this grand cycle.
I hope that one day, all people will understand how valuable this chain of kindness is and what a tremendous asset it is to society.
I wish that each one of us asylum seekers, one day deserves to become one of the links in this human chain.
I finally conclude that I have to stay and fight and become one of the rings of this chain of kindness in future.
Let’s not allow this cycle of kindness to ever come to a halt…
Words by Brahman
Photo credit: Tyler Nix, Unsplash
Exodus 
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