The Power of the Blue
Have you ever feared something to the point of death, but simultaneously loved it both addictively and unconditionally?
Since I was a kid, my family and I have never skipped a summer trip to the beach—sometimes even during winter breaks! To us, beach trips are like a sacred ritual, an integral necessity to rejuvenate ourselves after the hectic routines of school and work. Each of us has a special connection with the beautiful blue of the Mediterranean Sea. In fact, most of my childhood memories are revolved around waking up at dawn before anyone else to witness the extraordinary sunrise. My little brothers and I would race along the shore, and the gentle winds permeate through the curls of my hair as we spray water on each other and watch the waves sweep over our little footprints—our hopeless endeavors to catch little fish. I still recall all of these happy scenes whenever I feel down, and they do, genuinely, uplift my soul.
Things were the same for as long as I can remember. I grew up by the side of the Mediterranean Sea, inhaled its breeze until I was able to comprehend the meaning of calmness. The majestic echo of the waves hitting the rocks merged with my growth and created a sharp aura around me, a sensation that balanced the fragility of my soul. You may not believe it, but I have never feared the sea, and I cannot even remember when and how I learned to swim. It happened spontaneously, naturally; an eager toddler taking her first unsteady steps toward the water. And suddenly, something clicked—a magical friendship with one of the most captivating sights the creator has ever made, and it became my favorite place in the city.
The Libyan coastline on the Mediterranean Sea.
It was, however, until that one ominous morning, four years ago, when I had to encounter a brutal sight which contravened any possible meaning of humanity that has ever existed in my mind. I heard a lot about illegal migration at that time since Libya, my homeland, was (and unfortunately still is) in total chaos after the war. The Libyan coastline turned into an open border without government forces, a preferred departure point for illegal—mostly African—immigrants to escape the life of poverty and scarcity of good living conditions to what they thought, a better life. Some of them made it, but others found new shelters under the sea. However, what you hear from adults and watch on the news is not like witnessing the consequences of a human crises through your own eyes! And on that morning, everything seemed the same—the splendid sun, the kids running on the grass playground, the majesty of the sea. Everything except for my heart, and the lifeless body floating on the surface of the water, or what was discovered later—only some parts of it.
Back then, I had no idea that certain sights are powerful enough to cause nightmares for endless nights, and that nightmares can even visit you while you are awake and turn your life into misery. And for the first time ever, I hated the sea—the ideas, the choices, the circumstances—that will lead anyone to some ideas, some choices.
But the impact of that indescribable incident wasn’t only negative because I have discovered a list of new things about me I never knew existed before. I learnt how to help people and how to help myself on the way. I learnt about volunteering.
After the incident, I engaged myself with different authorities which aim to provide immigrants the help they need—primarily mental support. It's true that you can’t figure how some sorts of pain are like, unless you go through that exact pain. But it didn’t take much effort for me to recognize their pain, to feel it—to be somehow, responsible—that I must give a hand for those who dream of reaching. My ship’s sail drifted opposite to the sea. For two summers, I skipped the family trips to spend more time with those poor people, to teach them, and to provide life necessities. The responses made me happy; I was happy. It was like rediscovering myself through learning beautiful lessons but not in a beautiful way. But that wasn’t enough to stop the nightmares from visiting or to fade away my shock.
Darkness must come to an end, and the sun must rise. On the third summer away from my favourite place in the city, the number of illegal immigrants was noticeably decreasing! A massive progress was taken in the matters that concern them, and you could sense the hope of a brighter future in the atmosphere. Such a thing demands a celebration for the victory of good intentions and good deeds. And how could someone who lives in a country which overlooks the Mediterranean Sea not seize its enjoyment?
There I was, facing the sea again after a long time, but with different feelings than I had before. Breathing the familiar scent was like hugging my grandmother. I kept walking and walking, the gentle ends of the waves were hitting my skin, as if the sea was welcoming me back home! But I could still see it, a single footwear on the sand. A sight that tells you a billion sad stories—stories that can change your life forever—but everyone should manage to set a space for beautiful sights to heal them as well, right? I finally released a sigh and tranquility rushed through my veins. ◆
Umaima is a Libyan writer and translator who finds books, linguistics, humor, fairies, and Pringles the most enjoyable things in life.