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New Hope
July 15, 2016
Dear diary,
I forgot my old diary behind when we left, so
today I begin a new one.
Today a new life begins for me. It appears we
have found a new home.
It has been a difficult journey. 233 refugees
on a ship built for 35. There were people everywhere, even in the kitchen.
We slept on the floor. There wasn't any space to walk, we had to sit in
the best spot we could find and stay there, because every time we left
someone took our place. But since there was not much to do anyway, most
of the time we were just dozing, and we got used to the inactivity. Getting
used to the noise was harder. There are a lot of children with us, and
they like open spaces. But I guess even they got used to the trip. It's
not as if they had a choice. At least, we didn't have to remain hidden
in some stinking wet dark place, hoping the attack would stop and they
wouldn't come down looking for us.
We left in a hurry. One moment we were hiding,
the next we were running to the docks with our emergency packs on our
backs. I barely had time to grab my flute and a bottle of water. People
were shouting, shoving the others aside, pushing their way through with
brute force. There was a woman screaming and many children crying. I was
holding Misha's pack, trying not to get separated from him. He was holding
his son with one arm, and his daughter's hand with the other. I was getting
crushed, and when I finally got on board I realised that I had cut my
arm and that it was bleeding, but it didn't matter. We were leaving.
Having so little space was not the worst. Some
people hadn't been able to bring food. This was the main problem. We didn't
have much drinkable water either, but it was enough if we were careful
about what we did with it. Used water could be filtered and re-used for
washing, but not for drinking.
The first days were not too bad. Then we began
to be hungry and filthy. We washed as best as we could with what little
filtered water we had, but we didn't have any soap, and the few families
who had thought to bring some soon ran out of it. We were all filthy and
stinking, but we had no choice but to stay near each other.
Then people became tired of having their food
rationed, and asked for more, and there was a lot of shouting and even
a major fight that was hard to stop, but no one was seriously injured.
There were fights pretty often, people weary of doing nothing, weary of
their filthy neighbour, weary because of the noise. I'm lucky because
I can tolerate all of this pretty easily.
But then, on the 17th day, one man became ill.
Then there were two others. And the illness spread, and every day twenty
or thirty more people became ill. We didn't know what it was. Very suddenly
people got a high fever, and in the next few hours they were covered with
red spots that spread until you almost couldn't recognize them. And they
stayed like that for two or three days, and we could do nothing to help
them. I was among the handful who didn't get sick. Many people died. Misha
and his children were sick too, I brought them water and made them as
comfortable as possible, and hoped until the last minute that they would
be all right. But he didn't make it, and his daughter died a couple of
minutes after him. Now I must take care of his son. But without Misha
I feel lost and alone.
We couldn't keep the dead with us, so we had
to drop them. We took their coats, shoes, blankets and jewelry, the need
was too great and our friends wouldn't need them anymore. I watched them
float away from me and I cried. I felt completely hopeless.
We were on board of an old ship. One day, the
26th of our journey, the engines stopped. We found ourselves drifting
in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by blackness. For the first time,
there was no background noise. Everyone was silent, tense. The lights
were off on our ship, we couldn't see a thing. It was eerie. Then I looked
outside, and I saw the stars. The only bright thing in this dark place.
We were completely surrounded by stars, and it was so beautiful that I
felt like crying. I took my flute and began playing, and it was the most
beautiful song I had ever heard, and the saddest too. I think I will never
be able to play anything so beautiful ever again. Everyone listened, and
many cried, and it was really a magic moment, the only one of the trip.
Then we heard a loud roar, and the engines started, and the lights came
on. We were almost there.
We had not thought that finding a place where
to live would be so difficult. Many people were afraid of us. Some were
afraid of plagues or illnesses. Some were afraid of war. Others simply
didn't want us on their lands. There has been kind people who, despite
their refusal, gave us food, water, medical supplies, even fuel. But they
wouldn't welcome us. Every time we would turn around, and I would look
at the stars and hope that somewhere we would find a new place to live.
And every time it meant another five or six days of travel, and we were
losing hope.
But finally, we arrived here. These people welcomed
us. They seemed very happy to see us here. And they are much more like
us than I expected. They were as nervous to meet us as we were to meet
them. They greeted us with hands raised, palms outward, a gesture of peace.
Of course, we can't understand a word of what they're saying, but hand
gestures were enough to understand the basics. They gave us food and drinks,
and shelter. It is a beautiful world: a lot of water, great forests, many
animals. It looks like home before the war.
A man came and, pointing himself, he said, "Peter".
Then he made a wide gesture, showing everything that was surrounding us.
He told us the name of this place.
I hope we will be happy here. I hope Misha's
son will grow and become a man and remember what happened and teach it
to his children. Of course, I don't know what will happen, but, despite
being alien to us, the people we met here gave a good feeling to all 116
of us who made it.
A planet with a name as beautiful as "Earth"
will certainly be a new heaven to live upon. I will miss my home. But
I can raise my head, and find my star among the constellations, and know
that, somewhere around it, my own little planet is still there.
When I began writing this story for my English
134 552 course, I thought it would be a great story for a writing assignment.
I thought that I would have a good mark because it would be good. But
it is now more than that. Those characters I created now have a life of
their own, a life it was my duty to talk about, because I was the only
one who knew about them. This work has grown to be much more than a writing
assignment. It is a true story, the story of people who live, feel, cry
and laugh, the story of people who really existed, or who will really
exist.
Thank you, Tina Kerr, for allowing me to bring them to life. Thank you,
because if it hadn't been an assignment, I would never had taken the time
to tell their story, and they would have been completely forgotten.
Audrey Bergeron-Morin
College Jean-Eudes
June 1st, 1998
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