Attachment to a familiar place completes our sense of self. It gives us the hope that we have a home to return to when we step out in the morning. It is a place that we can call ours and feel comfortable to do all the deviant acts that are seen as weird in the outside. Deprivation of such familiar place can render us empty. Uncertain. Perplexed.
Asylum seekers and Refugees experience such tragic emptiness as they cross borders in search of life. There is a sense of something missing in their hearts, perhaps a nostalgia for a home in which they are safe and comfortable in. Home sweet home. Ah and how bitter is life when one is deprived of such sweetness.
In the background I could hear Tahira, a refugee woman talking with her little son. I was sitting at the balcony at dusk – watching the sun go down behind the tall and greeny trees of Cisarua, Indonesia, whilst listening to the sound of Azaan coming from far. Suddenly a wave of emotion crossed my heart, I started putting a few words together on the “notes” section of my phone, to inscribe my feelings about the uncertainty of life whilst living in limbo –
Hope amidst darkness 