You call me a racist. You say I discriminate. You say I don’t appreciate what these people have been through. What a load of nonsense, to say it politely.
This little village has always struggled, financially, politically and socially. It is not easy to build a business in this place. We survive from the earnings we make during the summer months, when the tourists are here. This year, most tourists avoid our town. Instead of careless, little-dressed, Europeans who are only under spending on sunscreen, our streets are filled with poor, frustrated dark strangers accompanied by covered women and a flock of bare-foot children. How are they providing income for me? Why am I a heartless racist when I complain about my livelihood going under because of the stream of refugees in our village?
Just because I want my own situation to improve doesn’t mean I am a bad person. When these people first arrived here we all helped them. I handed out free bottles of water from my shop. My wife sorted through all our clothing and dropped three bags of pants, shorts, shirts, shoes and sweaters off at the camp. My sons are both first aid volunteers and spend their nights assisting new arrivals as their little rubber boats made it to our shores. We are not bad people. We helped. But it has been more than a year now and no one is helping us, despite your many promises. It is easy to call me heartless from the comfortable earnings of your steady job with one of those fancy international organisations that have since landed here. It’s easy for you to preach generosity when your job only exists because of the refugees. Let’s face it: if this migration problem would be solved you would be unemployed!
I have to put my kids through college in a country already balancing on bankruptcy. Why does the burden fall on us? And why am I a bad person for calling you on it?
These people don’t even want to be here. They want to move on. They want to get to Germany, Denmark, the UK, you name it. Well, get in line buddy! My sons are both applying for jobs abroad all the time. Neither of them will take over my shop when I retire because it is barely providing a profit.
You tell me these people are poor, frustrated with their hopeless situation and desperate for change. Well, so am I. Will you help me too? No! And why not? Because I am not a refugee. I am European. So who is discriminating now?
- Fictional rant based on true events and speeches.
sofiestories 