Ashraf

Meet Ashraf.

Ashraf moved from his home in Pakistan to Greece during the early nineties to escape the rising national unrest. He worked for the last three decades in his new home of Athens with the hope of one day collecting his pension and retiring. But, after the collapse of the Greek economy between 2007 and 2008 he, like many others, found himself out of a job. It was something all too familiar in Ashraf’s eyes. “Greed and power, everybody [in the government] just wanted what was best for themselves. That’s what I’d left in Pakistan.” he said, “and I’d die before I go back there.” The pension the Greek government is offering him now is not livable and amounted to what he considered an insult. After further research Ashraf found if he moved to Germany and provided proof of years worked and wages earned, they would give him a substantially larger pension that would be sufficient for him to survive. The last obstacle standing in his way is the cost of moving to Germany. “It’s a great offer,” he said “but I simply don’t have the money.”

While we sat on the curb and talked he attempted to warn a tourist taking photos with her iPad that “this area is dangerous.” She ignored him. “There is a lot of crime in this area. I saw, just the other day, a thief take a woman’s purse,” he leaned in and told me. “I tried to grab him but he was somehow too heavy. She screamed but he was gone.” I asked if he’d thought the rise in crime was a result of the economic despair the country was experiencing. “Absolutely!” he exclaimed. “I mean what else are you going to do? But me, I’m safe. They don’t come after me because I have nothing.” Ashraf now laughing at this peculiar reality.  “They see tourist and think money. They see bills instead of coins and send someone ahead to wait for you. But you give people jobs and pension, most of this goes away.” We sat in silence for a moment watching the street. “Sounds to me like you’re a protector of these streets.” He chuckled responding “I’m sorry I have nothing else to offer you.” “This conversation and your story was enough, thank you,” I said. Of course this is when I asked for his photo. I made sure to get his email address to send him the photo when edited. Holding my phone he looked at me and said “I made one mistake.” “What’s that?” I asked. Waving my phone in his hand he said with a smile on his face “I didn’t run!” We shared a hearty laugh and I was on my way. Thank you for sharing your story and your humor with me today, Ashraf.

Sit a Bit…

Meet Gaza.

As the rain began to fall over Belgrade Fortress I sought shelter in the tunnel of its main entrance. Tucked further down the tunnel was a little windowless, brick-walled shop that sold historical map recreations. As I walked around, Gaza began asking me about my travels. One question struck me in particular: “What does Europe have that the U.S. is missing?” I thought a moment. “The longevity of history,” I said at last. She replied, “Yes it’s good, but sometimes we get stuck in the past when it would be better to start anew. So, why Belgrade specifically?” This one was hard. I had been reading up on the conflicts during the nineties through the eyes of Chris Hedges, a veteran war correspondent and the author of War is a Force That Gives Us Meaning. So, I said as much. She became immediately serious. “Be careful who you read because everyone will try to say ‘we were right.’ It’s a mess.” Hedges actually posits that by way everyone’s tendency to lay claim to being the holy innocent victim no one is allowed to be a real victim because their suffering is hijacked and weaponized. “Yes. The real victims aren’t here anymore,” she said, staring almost through the maps on a table in front of her.

“Here,” she said after a long silence. “Sit a bit and have coffee with me.” I obliged, embarrassed at my insensitivity. She smiled across the table at me while pouring some of the strongest coffee I’ve ever had. “That’s good. You read about it, and now you’re here. You won’t ever be able to really see. Some are stuck there, others want to pretend it never happened. But it’s done…come.” She gestured towards a display to show me the maps from antiquity and the steady increase in our understanding of the world’s geography, explaining the nuance of how they were painted and who had them commissioned. Gaza had studied art and history in school. I’d asked her what inspired her to take up a paint brush. “The first time I drew something, I had this feeling like it was never ending. Like I’ll never be done learning...I’d do it even if it didn’t make sense [monetarily - in ref. to an earlier part of our conversation] because it makes sense to me. It doesn’t always feel like flying or swimming, sometimes I’d rather be swimming. But I’d still paint even if I didn’t get paid.” Before sending me on my way she asked “Would you like to play a little game?” Pulling a little camera from her bag she explained the rules. “Very simple. I take a photo of you with my camera, then your camera, then you do the same for me.” This is Gaza. She reminded me that a people cannot be reduced to the conflicts that defined their generation or changed the course a country’s history. In fact, their unique humanity will continue to shine through.