Beyond the numbers

What happened recently (and is still unfortunately happening) in the Mediterranean made me feel horrified of how the human life is becoming just a number in the counts. I feel deeply sad how people are reacting to a European death which feels human, and how they react for an African death, which seems of a second category. We cannot use two different sets of balances and we should condemn that.

Last year, and as part of the World Economic Forum’s Global Leadership Fellowship programme, we had a module in Columbia University on voice training and how to take the stage during speeches, meetings or even discussions. The module used the technics of the theatre of the oppressed “as means of promoting social and political change. In the theatre of the oppressed, the audience becomes active, such that as "spect-actors" they explore, show, analyse and transform the reality in which they are living”.  During one of the exercises, I had to choose a picture (above) and speak on behalf of the person. I do not why, but I chose to be David Hassan, a young football player who was stuck on a border fence between the occupied city of Melilia in the north of Morocco and Europe. Below is the monologue that I had written. It is a fiction, however what’s happening in the Mediterranean is not a fiction.

 Here I am, on the top of this 7 meter fence. I can see my future; I can see me happy...

Our house was burned...

My parents were murdered one after the other, my sister was lucky and she ran away...

I am here on the fence, on the edge of Europe. I will have a job, a life. My children will have a life, they will play...  I played as well, but just a little. I had to help. Not any kind of help, I was obliged to help the militia. I was turned a child soldier I had to flee. 

It took me years to be on this fence

I can’t go back to my country, they will kill me, I prefer to die here, at least, I’ll have roses on my tomb… but, hmmmmm… who will drop them, anyway, I hope someone who’s just passing by and who has a heart, not like those bastard of police chasing us, they don’t want us to live or what…. Cowards!

 My parents, ahhhh my parents, they did everything for me to go to school ... and have a great life, they sacrificed their life for me. Poor parents, killed like insects… I shall revenge them one day… wait, then I’ll become like those who killed them… I’ll revenge them my way.

I’ll revenge them by being a great man, and great father, I will always cherish their memories. My children will have their name...

(Talking at the police) Look Guardia Civil, or whatever you are called, I am not getting down, till I am sure I am not going back to the forest… no I am not coming down. I am staying here as long as it takes.

This is the second time I try to go ... So this time, I am not leaving ... I'm ... I'm David Hassan of C?te d’Ivoire... I am a football player ... I was born in 1996 ... It's been three months since I am living in the forest…

I am sick, I do not eat well ... I have not taken a bath for three months ... It's been two years since I left my country ... We are human beings ... We have the right to equality ... We right to live ... We have the right to happiness as all Europeans, as everyone... I'm tired of this hell… why I should pay for where I was born, and I didn’t even choose that.

I walked through 6 countries, deserts, hills… more than 4000 km. It took me 25 months to reach here, 93 days waiting in the forest to find the moment to jump over this freaking 7meters high fence... I am not stopping here.

I am scared, I hope they will not shoot me… press don’t go please… will you support me? Right? Will human rights associations defend my case?

I am tired.... I am tired...

Ok I am getting down