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Walking away from memories and leaving it all behind
Watching the never-ending stream of refugees leaving the Ukraine, I can’t help but wonder not only what I would pack if I ever find myself in refugee shoes.
Thousands of Eritrean refugees, shell-shocked and separated from loved ones, fled on foot through harsh terrain to escape artillery and gunfire. (Photo by EDUARDO SOTERAS / AFP)
I can’t imagine what it must be like fleeing my house and my country with only the basic necessities I can carry in my hands or on my back.
Watching the never-ending stream of refugees leaving the Ukraine, I can’t help but wonder not only what I would pack if I ever find myself in refugee shoes, but also what I would have to leave behind.
Obviously, the packing will be centred around survival, with clothes, toiletries and medication inevitably the most important. But what to leave behind? It might sound trivial, but I am very fond of my collection of bottle openers.
Wherever in the world I travel, I always ensure that I add to my stash. They serve not only as a reminder of the roads I’ve travelled, but as an inspiration to keep on exploring the world. I also have my favourite set of cutlery which will be hard to live without.
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It was a gift from my grandmother and dates back to the early 1900s. Despite having been in daily use for more than a century, the detailed engravings are still beautiful.
And my food just tastes so much better when eaten with that set. And what about my children’s photo albums? It really is a treasure chest of memories, marking their very existence, with all their achievements, trials and tribulations: a certificate for a second place at the inter-house athletics in Grade 1, the first time they played on a beach, an X-ray that shows a fractured finger and a picture of the hockey stick that caused it. The list is endless.
How can anyone walk away from that? Will I be able to walk away from my grandfather’s WWII photo album and his war medals?
To a very large extent, he was part of a generation defined by that war. My own collection of books, the fridge magnets, my fishing rods, tools, my foot spa, the swing made from an old tyre hanging from the giant thorn tree in the back garden, my chilli plants… I cannot imagine walking away from that, not knowing if I will ever return to see any of it again.
Let us never forget that, in a war, there are no winners.
