Apathy

Talking of immigrants and racism, I've been meaning to transcribe a piece I wrote last September while I worked at the Evening Leader which was printed but never uploaded onto the newspaper's website.
At the time I was pleased to be given the opportunity to put forward an alternative view of refugees but was left feeling bitter to say the least by the - how should I put it - "tumbleweed" which followed on the paper's letters page.
Why is it that politicians and readers could find the time and energy to write in about the most mundane and frankly irrelevent of subjects - speed cameras, traffic wardens and dog poo were running favourites - but when it came to the shameful treatment of foreigners by ignorant, good-for-nothing local racists? Not a peep. The good folks of Flintshire just weren't interested and there weren't enough votes in the issue to stir the passions of our MPs, councillors and Welsh Assembly Members.
Now, maybe I am expecting too much of my fellow human beings but I sometimes think this kind of apathy is almost as bad as the racism itself.
As Edmund Burke so neatly put it: "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." More than a year on, I still feel cross when I think about it.

A MAN who fled Iraq after losing dozens of relatives and friends under the brutal regime of Saddam Hussein says he is facing almost daily threats and abuse on the streets of Flintshire.
The 27-year-old Kurd, who wants to remain anonymous for fear of reprisals, saw unimaginable horrors during his life in Iraq, where his people were cruelly oppressed by the government, and took the difficult decision to leave when he was called up to serve in Saddam's army
Today, he told the Evening Leader the tragic story of how he left behind everything dear to him and struck out alone in the hope of building a better life in Europe while his country recovered - and how his life and those of his fellow Kurdish refugees is now being made difficult by a tiny minority of people.
He spoke frankly of how he got a lift from his village to Iran, walked alone for weeks to Turkey, sleeping rough and scavanging for food, then paid thousands of dollars to people smugglers to travel to Britain in the back of a lorry.
The first weeks and months of his new life passed in a blur of language barriers and red tape, while he went slowly through the British asylum system. The long days were spent cooped up in run-down bed and breakfasts in the North of England, smoking cigarettes, staring at the damp walls and drinking endless cups of tea.
But eventually he was granted refugee status as a reflection of what he had been through, and gained permission to work and indefinate leave to remain in the UK. During his three-and-a-half years in this country, he has lived in Sunderland, Hull and Flintshire, and worked in factories and other poorly paid jobs, and has been left shocked and saddened by the reaction of some residents towards those who have fled persecution.
He says that even here in Flintshire, he faces regular verbal abuse in the streets, and has been attacked numerous times and suffered three broken ribs when a man leapt from a passing car and hit him with a metal bar in broad daylight.
These problems have only increased after the London bombings of July 7 but many in the Kurdish community are reluctant to report incidents because of a deep-seated mistrust of authority.
In their country, the police are easily bribed and many residents find it easier to take the law into their own hands than deal with the corrupt bureaucracy. They are quick to admit there have been some difficulties and skirmishes with local youths but are keen to set the record straight and start mending bridges with the local community.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his tiny bedsit and clasping a mug of steaming coffee, he smiled sadly and said: "I want the people here in Flintshire to know that we Kurdish people have not come to take your jobs, your houses or your women.
"We are not here to cause problems for you or plant bombs in your cities. We are here because our country is not safe and we want a nice, quiet life until we can go back to Iraq.
"I want to work five days a week and go out with my friends. I don't want to take your benefits, I want to work and am willing to do jobs many British people don't want.
"I don't want to stay here forever; I want to go back to my family and friends, who I haven't seen for years now. I miss them a lot and do get sad when I think about it.
"All of the Kurdish people who are here in Flintshire have lost someone back at home. We all have family members who died either under Saddam or since the war. We have all been touched by sadness."
The man, who now works in a store in Chester, watched hundreds of relatives and friends die during the gassing of Hallabja in 1988 by Saddam Hussein's army, had a brother killed and only last year lost four close cousins after a bomb exploded under their car in the Kurdish city of Mosul.
Fighting back emotion, he said: "I was born a Muslim and have always been told it is wrong to kill people; it is against my religion. But some people are using the London attacks as an excuse to threaten the Kurdish people here.
"They don't realise we left our country because of what was happening there and are actually on the same side as the British. Life in Iraq is getting better for Kurdish people, but it is still not safe. If I could join the British army I would, but they will not have us because we are refugees."
The man played the Leader a harrowing DVD sent to Britain by his family back at home, which showed atrocities carried out on their community by their former government, including the beheading of a Kurdish man by a soldier, cut with images of the fall of Baghdad and music mocking the dictator and his humiliating capture by the Americans.
He swapped the disc for another from his large pile of CDs, and played more images, this time poignant video of his extended family in Iraq - his heartbroken mother tearfully telling him she wants him home, his older brother urging him to stay in Britain where he is safe, and the tiny nephews and nieces he has never seen with his own eyes.
Struggling to tear his eyes from the screen, he said: "When I watch these and look at photos from home I feel both happy and sad at the same time.
"Happy because I am pleased to see them, but it reminds me of how far away I am. Of course I would love to go back home to see them but it is not safe. My mother has already lost one son, she sound not lose a second.
"It is best for me to stay here and do my best to send money back to the family in Iraq. It is hard but I have to be a man and look after the people left behind.
"Kurdistan is beautiful and the only place I will be truly happy, but I had no choice apart from to leave. Before I got to Britain I expected it to be a great country, friendly and welcoming. But within hours I was being called racist names by people on the streets.
"Not everyone is like that and I have met some wonderful people, really kind. But it is not how I imagined. Our families think we have the perfect lives here, they don't realise we work like crazy and get called names almost every day.
"But we are not here to steal your lives, we just want to quietly get on with things until the time is right to go home."