Anne-Metta Kobes

 Anne-Metta Kobes

"I was sitting at the table with my back to the sun and the newspaper in my hand. My eye fell on a small message at the top right of the page. It was in the section that the editors called 'First', but in the section 'Short'.

More boat people than ever in Lampedusa', I read. In my head, Diggy automatically started singing Dex, the song for which he had translated the French original by Christophe Maé. The song was named after an island in the Mediterranean: Lampedusa.

I remembered how Diggy Dex had once sung the lyrics on TV. And how he then talked about the boy who had been visiting him for a few years. That boy had fled Eritrea when he was 15. Away from the division, war, and oppression, because a new horizon beckoned. The horizon, which, viewed from such a gray base, will of course soon shine more beautifully than it does now.

His journey in the hope of blessing became a turbulent flight. But what do you tell about that to the people at home who miss you and wish you happiness? I'm going to make it, Mom / Just don't tell Dad / That they're sinking here / For Lampedusa.

That boy from Eritrea had found a home in the Netherlands. But in the meantime, his place on the flight had long since been taken by others. The newspaper said that more than six thousand people arrived on that Italian island last Tuesday and Wednesday.

Back then alone, a thousand people more than the five thousand permanent residents. They are used to guests there. Just like in Ameland, a large part of the population lives from tourism. But most of these six thousand newcomers did not arrive with a well-filled wallet or a reservation for an apartment. They did not come for the sun but for life.

The journalist noted a response from the Red Cross in the newspaper. He called the situation complex and that seemed like an understatement to me.

While reading, my back had become warm from the sun that shone incessantly. It was time to return to work. With Sunday's service, it will be Peace Sunday.

The worldwide Mennonite brotherhood calls on pastors to talk about family for the occasion. About how family is much more than the people connected by blood. Maybe all people are ultimately one family. As I folded the newspaper, I thought of the brothers and sisters who, on that other island further away, now also had their backs warmed by the same sun.