L’Amir té 35 anys i és sirià. Ens ha convidat a dinar a la seva tenda. És la última del camp, està situada a l’extrem. Com un lleó solitari, no li agrada gaire barrejar-se amb les altres persones que (mal)viuen al port del Pireu. Potser per no tornar-se boig com ens diuen que li passa a la gent intel·ligent a aquesta mena de limbo estrany. Em criden l’atenció uns llibres i me’ls ensenya. Són bíblies en àrab. D’on les ha tret?. Al camp venen alguns voluntaris nord-americans que són “seguidors de Jesús” m’explica. Quan l’Ahmad i el Youssef ens conviden a la seva tenda veig que estan fullejant una mena de llibret amb il·lustracions religioses i fotografies de famílies molt felices. És publicitat en àrab dels testimonis de Jeohvá.

De sobte, em venen al cap aquells missioners aventurers que marxaven a les Índies a convertir els “indígenes”. Volien “ampliar el ramat de Jesús”. Portar la veritat a aquells “salvatges” (Era la veritat? Eren salvatges?) I sento com es repeteix la situació. Han ensumat vulnerabilitat i en silenci s’han apropat a la bestiola ferida. L’ajudaran, sí. Però els ha d’obeïr. Ha de mirar cap a on ells miren i acceptar que ells tenen raó. He fet una caricatura. No crec que qui va regalar una bíblia a l’Amir fos un depredador esperant la debilitat de la seva presa. No crec que la seva intenció fos perversa, però el cas és que els seus actes sí que m’ho semblen.

Venir fins aquí per posar en dubte la seva veritat em sembla pervers

Les persones refugiades no tenen casa ni feina, viuen de la caritat i, ara per ara, han vist la seva vida aturada i potser buida. Si la seva dignitat residís en les condicions materials, ja l’haurien perduda fa mesos. Però resulta que la seva condició de persona és perenne i no tangible. Encara tenen la seva veritat. Potser és l’únic que tenen. Així que sí, venir fins aquí per posar-la en dubte em sembla força pervers. El problema no és pas el déu a qui resen, sinó els governs que, omnipotents, dicten el seu futur.

Jo no sé si Déu existeix. No sé si ha mort o si n’hi ha molts. I aquesta crítica no la faig des de la fe o la no fe, la faig des de la convicció que només podem ajudar en igualtat.Creuant mirades en línia recta i no pas en desequilibri. Constato que, com a voluntàries, tenim les mans lligades. Però si l’únic que podem fer és interactuar des de la nostra humanitat cap a la seva, fem-ho bé. Sense interessos, ni condicions ni lliçons. Escoltar i mirar. T’escolto i et miro.

(Foto: El camp lliure del Port del Pireu (Atenes). Imponderabilia Mundi)

Amir is 35 years old and is Syrian. He’s invited us to have lunch at his tent. It’s the last one, located at the very edge of the camp. Like a lone lion, he prefers not to mix with the other inhabitants who scrape out a living in Piraeus Port, maybe to avoid going crazy, as they say happens to intelligent people in this sort of strange limbo. I notice some books and ask him to show them to me. They are bibles written in Arabic. Where did he find them? He got them from some United States volunteers who call themselves “jesus followers”. When Ahmad and Youssef invite us to their tent I notice they are glancing at a kind of brochure full of religious illustrations and happy families photographies. It’s arabic publicity of Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Suddenly, I remember those adventurous missionaries who travelled to the Indies in order to convert the natives. They wanted to “increase Jesus’ flock”, to bring the truth to those “savages” (was that the truth? were them savages?), and I feel the situation recurs. They have smelled vulnerability and, silently, have approached the little wounded beast. Yes, they will help her, but she must obey them. She has to turn her gaze to where they turn theirs, and she has to accept that they are right. I have drawn a caricature. I do not think that who gave a bible to Amir was a predator waiting for his prey’s weakness. I do not think he had a perverse intention, but the point is that his actions do seem perverse to me.

To come here to question their truth seems to me quite perverse

Refugees do not have home or work, they live on charity and, at least for now, have seen their lives stop and maybe empty. If their dignity lay material conditions, they would had lost it a long time ago. It turns out, though, that their personhood is evergreen and intangible. They maintain their own truth, perhaps it’s the only thing they still have. So to come here to question this truth does seem to me quite perverse. The problem is not at all the God to which they address their prayers, but the omnipotent governments which control their future.

I do not know if god exists. I do not know if he has died or if there are many. I’m not expressing this criticism out of faith or non-faith, I speak from the certainty that we can only help in equality. Exchanging glances in a straight line instead of in imbalance. I assume that, as volunteers, we have our hands tied, but if we can do nothing more than interact from our humanity to theirs, let’s do it right. With no interests, no conditions and no lessons. To listen and to watch. I listen to you and I look at you.

(Photo: the free camp in Piraeus Port (Athens) by Imponderabilia Mundi)

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