Sentimental Journeys

Following the scrutiny, my heart sinks at the thought of another scrutiny. I can see my husband talking to the immigration officer. They seem to be arguing. The tall officer’s checks are crimson with either agitation or anger and my husband appears to be defeated. He is gesturing with his hands as if to say “what can I do? Sitting from a distance, I know nothing of their conversation. Or should I say disagreement.

All I can do, is pray to be out of this concrete cage sooner than later. My little girl is weary with hunger and exhaustion, so I must remain positive to keep us both going. We will be in our new home soon. Don’t worry. She doesn’t respond, just places her head on my shoulder for a much needed rest.

Another hour passes and the gentleman who kindly guided us is now leaving. He has waited long enough for us. My husband is talking to him. I don’t know what they are saying to each other, as we are still waiting behind the enclosure. We are not allowed to meet him, yet. There is a glass wall separating us. We are immigrants.

Finally, the moment comes when the officer calls us over to cross barrier from immigration to UK soil. It feels as though we are eventually validated for being humans, as people who have taken a long haul journey, and as a family waiting to be reunited.

I convey my Salam to my husband and encourage my daughter to do the same. We walk along together to the car to make our way home. One last journey before we reach our destination.