This heart-rending message was written by a young Iranian man I met in Samos last year. I first met Nima when he was volunteering at a restaurant that helped to feed hundreds of other refugees trapped on the Greek island.
Nima already had his travel documents: he could have left Samos any time. But he was prepared to wait months and months for the bureaucracy to approve papers for his best friend, Omid, so that they could travel onwards together.
Omid and Nima were inseparable. Brothers in a world without family.
The day before I left Samos last October, Omid was granted his papers. They celebrated with a dinner party in the restaurant. A moment of hope on an island of despair.
A year passed. Omid and Nima finally reached London, as they’d always promised, together.
It was in London where I was given the freedom and opportunity to feel normal again. After all this time I felt like a human, no different from every other human.
Normality was brief. A few days ago, Nima was thrown into a camp called Napier Barracks.
The only thing I asked for was for Omid to come with me. Don’t leave me alone. Please. We made it this far, together. Why wouldn’t we continue together? It’s not my journey. It’s our journey. And doing it without him translates into emptiness. An emptiness that doesn’t fit inside me.