The three Syrian women in november at my hotel Mira Mare on Leros. Each of them had just lost a child in the sea, when I met them – and the old man who lost his beloved wife. They are in the reception. The TV runs with the news. Suddenly pictures from the accident. The Greek coastguard trying to save people from drowning. Dead children floating around in the water.
The mothers start crying again, but nobody is thinking of turning off the television. Fatimah (anonymously name) dressed in turgouise turns her face against the wall, the other women and the old man trapped by the television, unable to escape the grisly sight. Fatimah repeats again and again, as she did in the morgue: It is my fault, my daughter is dead.
All night the mourning outside my room. A tall slender woman dressed in black talks on the mobile phone with her husband in Sweden. She talks with a loud shrill voice. Then she cries. Talk again and cry.
The next day the son of the old man arrives from Sweden. Where is his mother going to be buried? And the three children? The families want them transported to Syria, but that will cost a lot of money, which they do not have. All the dead ends up being buried on Leros.
The families want the world to see, what is happening and at that time, we shared the pictures of the dead children in sympathy.