Setting the record straight

A highly intelligent and very well educated friend overseas took a sobering point of view on my entry " Here I Go again". I was slightly taken aback as he wondered as to the relevance of sharing that story. I let it sink in a bit, then decided he made a valid point. The terrible boat tragedy in Italian waters that was reported on the news yesterday, as I have the habit of watching BBC America to get a more accurate international viewpoint, sure shrank my concerns to a shrivel. More than a 100 people dead, more than 200 missing from a smuggling boat loaded down with 500 people being brought in illegally into Europe from Northern Africa, once more brings the grim business of snake heads into the spotlight. It reminded me of a riveting book written by Patrick Radden Keefe, an FBI investigator who spent years of international efforts on finally bringing to justice Sister Ping, a notorious snake head operating a worldwide  human smuggling network out of an anonymous storefront in New York's China Town. The book spares no details on the unbelievable abuse and degradation these unfortunate illegal immigrants suffer at the hands of these ruthless snake heads and their minions who make millions by their hapless victims' suffering. It puts my own story to shame in comparison. But my story is mine, and real. My friend does not realize that even his rather restrained appreciation of my story and its perspective helped me. Why? Because it briefly connected us, it made me part of his world and point of view, just because I took a chance and reached out. Friends do not always have to agree, or see eye to eye. Communication is a flawed art and privilege, but I do feel better after sharing my story, and I do appreciate his point of view. My story is a walk in the park, compared to the people who ended up on that ill fated, overcrowded boat, many of them children, who died a gruesome death in an ill conceived fire on a desperate boat. People whose journey started as far away as Eritrea, who must already have been exhausted and hungry, before they got on that boat to Europe. A horrible fate, and a story that plays out all over the planet on a daily basis, often unnoticed or noticed too late to avert yet another human tragedy. It is not my story. At the same time, I can appreciate the longing for another shore, the dream of making another country yours in hopes of achieving something unique, in hopes of a new, hopeful start. I did not leave Belgium to get away from war, poverty and persecution, but I did and have to make an effort to make sense of my story, and the loss of my family and roots. I can only tell my story, because that is what happened to me. I can certainly learn from every one else's story, as I hope people can learn from mine. So, thank you, my friend, for allowing me to reach out, even though my story is one of a far, far lesser degree of gravity. Your suggestion to share this particular story with people of similar points of view and concerns is a wonderful thought, but perhaps the reason I write about it, is because in my world these people are far and few in between. Even though you are living on the other side of the planet, your travel and education experiences, and the sharing of friendships and connections in graduate school allow for an interesting perspective on your part, and in turn, being able to share with you my point of view and experiences as a Belgian transplant into the US, gives me just that bit of hope and energy I need to keep putting one foot in front of the other, each and every day, again and again.