Words of hope

This year I had the greatest possible difficulty in writing anything that even remotely resembled a Christmas wish.

Anyone who follows the news in this month of December would almost become depressed. There is nothing but murder, war, commotion, hatred and polarisation. One cannot close one’s eyes to it, but rarely was bad news as prominent in the media as it is now. Good news seems to be hard to find. I have written of it before.

That is why I went looking for anything that gives me hope: memories and current events that move me.

First of all the joy of my little granddaughters, the eldest of whom is already toddling around the house and has become a real little person. The youngest, five months old, who gazes at you with her big blue eyes and is already trying to roll over onto her stomach.

designed by Henriette

 

The Surinamese party in a community centre in Leiden, which I recently attended. The pleasant, respectful atmosphere among all those present, whether they were Surinamese, Dutch, Moroccan or something else. During the preparations we got the sound system working, upon which a Moroccan-Dutch volunteer searched for Moroccan music on his phone and played it to the microphone, amidst general laughter. 

 

The wisdom of a young girl, about nine years old, to whom I told the story of Anansi, who could not steal wisdom and accidentally dropped it into the river, so that it spread throughout the world. Why is there a little wisdom in all of us, I asked of her. ‘Because we all drink water,’ she said. 

The Israelis who out of their compassion stay overnight with Palestinian families on the West Bank to prevent intimidation and violence by gangs of settlers. 

The man from Uganda, an immigrant who has been delivering our morning newspaper for years. He recently came to the door again with his usual Christmas greeting. Early one morning, a few years back, he found the key that we had accidentally left in the front door the day before, and put it in our letterbox so it wouldn't be stolen.

The New Year's Eve celebration on board my ship that was in the port of Gdansk, fifty years ago during the communist period in Poland. An armed soldier was on guard at the gangway. As the Third Mate, I went ashore with a piece of cake to wish him a happy new year. He didn't want the cake, because he was a Polish officer. But we did shake hands.

A Moroccan woman and a conservative Jewish man, who one sad day did something important for me that I have never forgotten.

The people celebrating in the streets of Syria following the dictator’s expulsion. A people that finally hopes for a better future. And the cautious rapprochement of the West to the new rulers in the country, in the hope that they have indeed abandoned their previous radical ideology. Let us give them the benefit of the doubt.

 

Long before our time: the spontaneous Christmas truces in the trenches in 1914 and 1915, when German and British soldiers met in no man's land. I still have a quiet hope for a speedy end to the slaughter in Gaza, on the Ukrainian front, in Sudan and Eastern Congo. Or anywhere in the world, in the hope that leadership and reconciliation will prevail over hatred and enmity.

source: Wikipedia

Our blood is all red, whether we are white, black or brown. That is for a reason, as it is what connects us all. Whether we are Israeli or Palestinian, Russian or Ukrainian. Whether we are European or an African immigrant. 

Shalom, salam, odi, привет, вітання, greetings, bon bini, saludos, wenhou, gegroet, peace be with you and us all. 

Happy New Year.