It could have been me: Save Syria's Children

His name was Alan. He was three years old.

He should have been home watching cartoons. He should have been running around in the park, going down a slide. Instead, he was in his mothers arms, next to his five year old brother Ghalib and father, in the dark, on a dinghy, in the waves.  And then he was all alone, lying on a beach. Cold, alone, dead.

He was not the first, and sadly, he will not be the last. 

On that perilous journey from home to safety, any number of faiths could have met him. He could have been one of those children that sank to the bottom of the Mediterranean inside the hull of a capsized ship. Or he could have been one of those children that were abandoned inside an airtight truck on a Hungarian motorway. Or maybe, if he was lucky, he could have been reunited with family members in a safe place. 

 

I have been thinking also how easy it is to forget that this doesn't happen just far away. Not that long ago European families were on that perilous journey from home to safety too. 

My grandmother was a refugee. She was about six years old and escaped on a refugee train. It was winter, and the snow deep. Bombers would drop bombs and shoot at the carriages, and they had to jump out and run for the woods everytime they heard aeroplanes approaching. Their parents tried to make it into a game, to see who could run the fastest. Wading through the deep snow made them all go so slow. Later in life she would often feel how they needed to go, somewhere, anywhere, because it wasn't safe where they were. Just because you get to safety doesn't mean that the scars vanish too.

It has made me think too, would I be here, giving my two year old daughter extra tight cuddles today, if they had had to escape by a boat. Or if they had been in one of the carriages at the back. Maybe not. 

It is so easy to ignore, to think this all happens so far away. It is so easy to think there is nothing I can do. Since Thursday I have been thinking what is the point. What is the point of me writing about a cute dress my daughter wore at the cafe. Or about where we like to eat out in London. Just what is the point unless I actually do something with my voice here. And so here I am, writing, using my voice.

There are things you can do, right now, right here.

You can use your voice, the voice Alan doesn't have anymore.

You can donate. I have donated to MOAS and to Hand in Hand for Syria, one donation to help at the sea and one donation to help at land. There are other ways to donate too, if you have time but not money.

Or you can spread the word. Save the Children's Save Syria's Children campaign, tweet it, facebook it, share it. #SaveSyriasChildren. Please also take a photo of your children, or yourself, with the words "It could have been me" and share it on your social media, or on your blog.

And to donate you can either go to Save The Children website or text. 
UK: Text SYRIA to 70008 to donate £5
US: Text SYRIA to 20222 to donate $5

    

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