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gerbieOn this cold evening I wish I had taken the car. Or taken gloves. I haven't though, so I'm cycling, one hand in my pocket to keep warm, the other one carrying the plastic bag I need for the meeting a bit later. Near the football pitch it is dark. Only the artificial light shows that there are a few people like myself who are not so smart to sit near a fire or central heating. A football training, since I stopped last june something I haven't done myself for half a year now. Still, I remember I wasn't bothered with cold when training. I was usually the one idiot in shorts, even with temperatures well below zero. As long as you keep moving, not a real problem.
Just next to the pitch, outside the gate, is one man standing. He is not walking his dog, the usual reason for most people to walk this particular road, he is just watching the training. My team is not a professional team, even after our championship and hence the promotion, we only play 3rd level amateurs. So he must be really dedicated to watch them in this cold. When I get closer, I recognize him. Mischa. It is not a weird thing for him, he often watches. He loves the game, he loves a bit of diversion in his life.
We shake hands (cold!) and talk a bit, before I decide to continue to the warm heating in the clubhouse, where my meeting will be in a few minutes. It is good to talk to Mischa once in a while. He really knows the game, though he doesn't play anymore himself. Still, he knows what a good player should do, he sees the importace of good training at youth level.
He does have plenty of time to do so actually, as Mischa doesn't work. Correct myself: isn't entitled to work. Mischa is from the former republic of Yugoslavia and has fled his country a couple of years ago with his wife and offspring. A few more since he came here. His wife must be at least a decade younger than he is. So this family lives in a temporary home, a former monastry, just next to our football park. When he entered the Netherlands he was told that within a few months, half a year tops, they would tell him if he could stay or not. Now, four and a half years later, he is still waiting for an answer. He would love to stay here and build a life with his familiy. Have a home. Learn the language properly. Get a job. But he can't, because what should be an easy question, turns out to be a big problem for the government. In february the monastry will be used for something else, he will probably have to move elsewhere, still waiting for an answer. Is this how we like to treat people?
How can anybody still use that awfull phrase "Vol is vol" (Full is full) when we treat people like this. People who run for a war and terror. How can we make somebody wait for five years before telling him that he can continue with his life. Is it possible that the government wants them to go back? It is. Several young children could be on their way to a country they don't know, where they have never been or only short. To a country that is trying to rebuild after a decade of terror, where several minority groups are still trying to get some sort of independence, but are unlikely to get it.
How come that the world has become so greedy that people like Mischa and his family are forced to wait for such a long time without knowing what'll happen to them. The world has millions of Mischa's, many of them far worse of then him, all waiting for somebody to help them. Waiting for a country that says that one simple word: Welcome. I'm afraid a second car and luxury vacation is for most people far more important than helping someone who is needy.
Just next to the pitch, outside the gate, is one man standing. He is not walking his dog, the usual reason for most people to walk this particular road, he is just watching the training. My team is not a professional team, even after our championship and hence the promotion, we only play 3rd level amateurs. So he must be really dedicated to watch them in this cold. When I get closer, I recognize him. Mischa. It is not a weird thing for him, he often watches. He loves the game, he loves a bit of diversion in his life.
We shake hands (cold!) and talk a bit, before I decide to continue to the warm heating in the clubhouse, where my meeting will be in a few minutes. It is good to talk to Mischa once in a while. He really knows the game, though he doesn't play anymore himself. Still, he knows what a good player should do, he sees the importace of good training at youth level.
He does have plenty of time to do so actually, as Mischa doesn't work. Correct myself: isn't entitled to work. Mischa is from the former republic of Yugoslavia and has fled his country a couple of years ago with his wife and offspring. A few more since he came here. His wife must be at least a decade younger than he is. So this family lives in a temporary home, a former monastry, just next to our football park. When he entered the Netherlands he was told that within a few months, half a year tops, they would tell him if he could stay or not. Now, four and a half years later, he is still waiting for an answer. He would love to stay here and build a life with his familiy. Have a home. Learn the language properly. Get a job. But he can't, because what should be an easy question, turns out to be a big problem for the government. In february the monastry will be used for something else, he will probably have to move elsewhere, still waiting for an answer. Is this how we like to treat people?
How can anybody still use that awfull phrase "Vol is vol" (Full is full) when we treat people like this. People who run for a war and terror. How can we make somebody wait for five years before telling him that he can continue with his life. Is it possible that the government wants them to go back? It is. Several young children could be on their way to a country they don't know, where they have never been or only short. To a country that is trying to rebuild after a decade of terror, where several minority groups are still trying to get some sort of independence, but are unlikely to get it.
How come that the world has become so greedy that people like Mischa and his family are forced to wait for such a long time without knowing what'll happen to them. The world has millions of Mischa's, many of them far worse of then him, all waiting for somebody to help them. Waiting for a country that says that one simple word: Welcome. I'm afraid a second car and luxury vacation is for most people far more important than helping someone who is needy.
