I never got her name or contact details but she was the woman who when I first saw her I thought to myself Thank god. It would be just my luck to get here early and then find myself stuck in the queue behind that lady.
That lady was not, however, in my check-in queue so luck was actually on my side. That lady was clearly having some difficulty with something. Had she lost some paperwork or forgotten to bring something and why was she looking around in an almost vague sort of way? Perhaps she was just holding everybody else up in that queue as she waited for her husband. Perhaps he'd just chosen the wrong time to buy something or go to the toilet. Or to get something for the child she was holding.
Anyway as she wasn't in my queue and wasn't holding me up. I forgot about her and thought instead about how I would spend the next hour or so reading, writing and/or having a drink. Soon after I was called over to the check-in-counter anyway so I knew I was well on my way to that peaceful hour or so.
After check-in, immigration. Waiting patiently I overheard a woman asking the man behind me something about this process. Turning around I found it was the same lady – with baby but no husband - and she was unsure what this next step required of her. The man explained and allowed her to go ahead of him because, he said, she was a woman with a child. Hearing that chivalrous utterance, I had no choice but to allow her to go ahead of me also. I also offered a few bits of information on this stage of the process – like wait behind this line until you are called - at the same time. I also mentioned that I too was going to Istanbul.
One thing she wanted to know was where to go after immigration. I – unhelpfully I realised later – said you can sit anywhere until you need to go to your boarding gate. Then she was called through immigration – which seemed to pass without a hitch – and I followed on immediately. Now I was that much closer to that quiet time I was expecting. I thought until I found her waiting for me in the departure hall.
As we were on the same flight to Istanbul she again asked me where she had to go. I explained that you could just sit anywhere, but double-checked the departure gate and indicated to her its direction, at the same time pointing out that in this airport we weren't allowed to proceed beyond here anyway until much closer to the departure time. I started to move off when she asked if she could stay with me.
She explained that she had never flown before. She was clearly nervous and I realised that she was under some difficulty having to carry the child and the additional baggage that that entailed. I really had no choice so agreed and found a couple of spare seats for us.
Bit of a pest really I thought under my breath. There went the reading, writing and the quiet drink. Instead I was helping – or reassuring – a complete stranger. It wasn't my fault she had never flown before.
I explained a few things about the next stage. The gate we had to go to was over that way; over here was a big sign board which told us the gate number and when to proceed to the gate. Only problem with a baby and luggage was that the big sign board was facing away from us so to check it you had to leave your seat. It would not have been easy for a woman and small child.
She was from Iraq and gradually it dawned on me that I had met my own example of the human impact of the war in Iraq.
To get to Tehran she had had to travel by taxi for a few days. Then for some time she had been in some sort of hostel. She was now heading for Brussels to meet her husband who had left Iraq some 12 months before and had only seen their child in pictures over the Internet. He'd got a job and place for them to live in. He was going to meet her at the airport but travelling from her home in Iraq to Tehran and then on to Brussels she was on her own.
As victims of the Iraq war her close family had been split up. Her husband was in Brussels, a sister had gone to Jordan and her parents were staying on in Baghdad. So many things were worse now she said. Health care, jobs, security. She spoke as though she was resigned to it. And moving to Brussels – and flying for the first time - was just another bit of the dislocation.
My son needs to go to the toilet she said. Hang on I'll go and find out where it is I replied. It turned out to be on the next floor down. I gave her directions but she asked if I could come with them. I explained that we'd loose our seats but she still wanted me to come. OK I said and asked someone in they could mind the seats for us. We went off to ride the escalator down. She hesitated and indicated the stairs. At first I said come on it is easy but then realised her hesitation was quite strong. She'd never been on an escalator and I agreed that with baby and luggage it probably wasn't the right time to learn.
We got back to where our seats had been to find they'd been taken. I gave the girl I'd asked to mind them a half-glare. I was going out of my way to help someone I'd never met before but it was beyond this girl to mind seats for five minutes. This looked like a major problem - an hour or so standing up with baby, baggage and all but somehow some seats reappeared so i grabbed them and we sat down.
Then some other people came over add talked with her in another language - Arabic I assumed. They examined her papers, discussed a few things with her and then asked if I was going on to Istanbul. Which I was and I found myself offering assurances. Yes, I'd make sure she got off the plane and yes I'd make sure she got on her flight to Brussels.
They left for their plane and I asked her who they were. She'd never met them before but they were fellow Iraqi's who'd realised she was n her own and were making sure everything was OK. Complete strangers.
As it got closer to departure time I advised her to get ready and we started to head to the departure gate. Hang on, I said I'll just double check that big sign board. Much to my surprise the gate had been switched. It was now in the opposite direction from the one advised previously. I'm sure she would have managed on her own but it did reinforce the wisdom of her staying with me.
That problem solved we got on the plane and told her to wait for me on the air bridge when we arrived. I was toward the rear of the plane, she toward the front.
And when we arrived, she waited in her seat for me. I could see her looking anxiously about and we got off the plane together
Finding the transit area was complicated and I managed to momentarily choose the wrong queue. We didn't need to queue for new check-in passes but I thought we did. Instead after collaring a rather busy clerk I found we could both go directly to our check-in gates.
I took her to her gate and left her rather abruptly with a clerk who assured me this was the area for her Brussels flight.
My flight was going shortly too and I raced off to get my plane to Frankfurt wishing her the best for the future in Belgium.
The refugee
I never got her name or contact details but she was the woman who when I first saw her I thought to myself Thank god. It would be just my luck to get here early and then find myself stuck in the queue behind that lady.
That lady was not, however, in my check-in queue so luck was actually on my side. That lady was clearly having some difficulty with something. Had she lost some paperwork or forgotten to bring something and why was she looking around in an almost vague sort of way? Perhaps she was just holding everybody else up in that queue as she waited for her husband. Perhaps he'd just chosen the wrong time to buy something or go to the toilet. Or to get something for the child she was holding.
Anyway as she wasn't in my queue and wasn't holding me up. I forgot about her and thought instead about how I would spend the next hour or so reading, writing and/or having a drink. Soon after I was called over to the check-in-counter anyway so I knew I was well on my way to that peaceful hour or so.
After check-in, immigration. Waiting patiently I overheard a woman asking the man behind me something about this process. Turning around I found it was the same lady – with baby but no husband - and she was unsure what this next step required of her. The man explained and allowed her to go ahead of him because, he said, she was a woman with a child. Hearing that chivalrous utterance, I had no choice but to allow her to go ahead of me also. I also offered a few bits of information on this stage of the process – like wait behind this line until you are called - at the same time. I also mentioned that I too was going to Istanbul.
One thing she wanted to know was where to go after immigration. I – unhelpfully I realised later – said you can sit anywhere until you need to go to your boarding gate. Then she was called through immigration – which seemed to pass without a hitch – and I followed on immediately. Now I was that much closer to that quiet time I was expecting. I thought until I found her waiting for me in the departure hall.
As we were on the same flight to Istanbul she again asked me where she had to go. I explained that you could just sit anywhere, but double-checked the departure gate and indicated to her its direction, at the same time pointing out that in this airport we weren't allowed to proceed beyond here anyway until much closer to the departure time. I started to move off when she asked if she could stay with me.
She explained that she had never flown before. She was clearly nervous and I realised that she was under some difficulty having to carry the child and the additional baggage that that entailed. I really had no choice so agreed and found a couple of spare seats for us.
Bit of a pest really I thought under my breath. There went the reading, writing and the quiet drink. Instead I was helping – or reassuring – a complete stranger. It wasn't my fault she had never flown before.
I explained a few things about the next stage. The gate we had to go to was over that way; over here was a big sign board which told us the gate number and when to proceed to the gate. Only problem with a baby and luggage was that the big sign board was facing away from us so to check it you had to leave your seat. It would not have been easy for a woman and small child.
She was from Iraq and gradually it dawned on me that I had met my own example of the human impact of the war in Iraq.
To get to Tehran she had had to travel by taxi for a few days. Then for some time she had been in some sort of hostel. She was now heading for Brussels to meet her husband who had left Iraq some 12 months before and had only seen their child in pictures over the Internet. He'd got a job and place for them to live in. He was going to meet her at the airport but travelling from her home in Iraq to Tehran and then on to Brussels she was on her own.
As victims of the Iraq war her close family had been split up. Her husband was in Brussels, a sister had gone to Jordan and her parents were staying on in Baghdad. So many things were worse now she said. Health care, jobs, security. She spoke as though she was resigned to it. And moving to Brussels – and flying for the first time - was just another bit of the dislocation.
My son needs to go to the toilet she said. Hang on I'll go and find out where it is I replied. It turned out to be on the next floor down. I gave her directions but she asked if I could come with them. I explained that we'd loose our seats but she still wanted me to come. OK I said and asked someone in they could mind the seats for us. We went off to ride the escalator down. She hesitated and indicated the stairs. At first I said come on it is easy but then realised her hesitation was quite strong. She'd never been on an escalator and I agreed that with baby and luggage it probably wasn't the right time to learn.
We got back to where our seats had been to find they'd been taken. I gave the girl I'd asked to mind them a half-glare. I was going out of my way to help someone I'd never met before but it was beyond this girl to mind seats for five minutes. This looked like a major problem - an hour or so standing up with baby, baggage and all but somehow some seats reappeared so i grabbed them and we sat down.
Then some other people came over add talked with her in another language - Arabic I assumed. They examined her papers, discussed a few things with her and then asked if I was going on to Istanbul. Which I was and I found myself offering assurances. Yes, I'd make sure she got off the plane and yes I'd make sure she got on her flight to Brussels.
They left for their plane and I asked her who they were. She'd never met them before but they were fellow Iraqi's who'd realised she was n her own and were making sure everything was OK. Complete strangers.
As it got closer to departure time I advised her to get ready and we started to head to the departure gate. Hang on, I said I'll just double check that big sign board. Much to my surprise the gate had been switched. It was now in the opposite direction from the one advised previously. I'm sure she would have managed on her own but it did reinforce the wisdom of her staying with me.
That problem solved we got on the plane and told her to wait for me on the air bridge when we arrived. I was toward the rear of the plane, she toward the front.
And when we arrived, she waited in her seat for me. I could see her looking anxiously about and we got off the plane together
Finding the transit area was complicated and I managed to momentarily choose the wrong queue. We didn't need to queue for new check-in passes but I thought we did. Instead after collaring a rather busy clerk I found we could both go directly to our check-in gates.
I took her to her gate and left her rather abruptly with a clerk who assured me this was the area for her Brussels flight.
My flight was going shortly too and I raced off to get my plane to Frankfurt wishing her the best for the future in Belgium.
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