Taking a long shower
A long shower calms me down. I needed one after the interview with Tabaan and Javed. My head was spinning and my heart was pounding in my throat.
Desperation
"One day I will walk into the sea," Tabaan says. She's been traveling for years—from Afghanistan to Mauritania—and has now been in Morocco for over two years. She doesn't know anyone here, doesn't speak the language, and doesn't know how to cope anymore. Caring for her children, especially the newborn, is starting to wear her down. Moreover, her husband, Javed, is having a hard time finding work. His refugee status offers little protection or job opportunities.
Tabaan shares that her life feels like a rich book. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you everything," she says. "We haven't even closed a single chapter."
Photo taken by Judith van Uden.
A request for help
Javed joins the conversation. He says Tabaan is mentally unstable and urgently needs care. Then he asks the question that hits home: Can I do something to ensure she gets the help she needs in Europe? I explain that, unfortunately, it's not easy. "Or can you help us in some other way?" he asks hopefully. Later that week, I'll put them in touch with several local NGOs that can at least help them schedule a medical consultation.
The couple looks tired. I ask how they're feeling. "Tired," I suggest we talk further another day. Today, I didn't even get to asking my questions. Instead, I mostly listened. At the end of the conversation, the eldest daughter shows me a drawing she made: a sad emoji.
Time for ice cream?
After the conversation, I feel empty. A friend notices I am feeling sad. "Shall we go get some ice cream?" she suggests. I am not ready to speak about it yet and decline her offer. Instead, I take a long shower.