SIYAR YNWA
I
would like to tell you about my friend, Siyar.
Siyar is a Syrian refugee driven out of his country a year or so ago who has been living in a camp in Greece for the past six months. I asked him how he felt about life in the camp; he went silent. His friend said that after everything Siyar had experienced in Syria, anywhere would be good and Siyar nodded. He was just happy to be there in spite of all its privations.
The first time I saw Siyar he was running towards me as I entered the camp one morning, arms outstretched as if I were a long-lost relative.
'Liverpool, Liverpool!', he called out, recognising the red football shirt I was wearing. He had never seen a real one. His dream was to see a match at Anfield one day. When he discovered I actually live near Liverpool, I was immediately raised almost to the status of minor prophet! There was little he did not know about the club and players past and present. His favourite player if Steven Gerrard, of course. Siyar was ecstatic over Liverpool’s 4-0 beating of Barcelona in a pre-season friendly and seemed to have committed to memory the dates of many of the games in the forthcoming season.
I asked him his name. 'Siyarinwa' he seemed to say. I repeated it back to him .'No, my friend. Siyar Inwa' he replied, 'Inwa!' and beamed hugely at me. It took a while for me to register what he meant until he showed me a crumpled identity paper with his name on it: Siyar Ynwa. ''You are joking!' I said, 'Really?'
'Really, yes!' he grinned. 'YNWA, You'll Never Walk Alone. That is my name.' We both laughed.
'Well Siyar Ynwa', I promised, 'when I leave for the UK, I will give you my Liverpool shirt'. My ribs are still recovering from the hug he gave me'.
'Perhaps you are leaving tomorrow?' he asked.
Siyar is a Syrian refugee driven out of his country a year or so ago who has been living in a camp in Greece for the past six months. I asked him how he felt about life in the camp; he went silent. His friend said that after everything Siyar had experienced in Syria, anywhere would be good and Siyar nodded. He was just happy to be there in spite of all its privations.
The first time I saw Siyar he was running towards me as I entered the camp one morning, arms outstretched as if I were a long-lost relative.
'Liverpool, Liverpool!', he called out, recognising the red football shirt I was wearing. He had never seen a real one. His dream was to see a match at Anfield one day. When he discovered I actually live near Liverpool, I was immediately raised almost to the status of minor prophet! There was little he did not know about the club and players past and present. His favourite player if Steven Gerrard, of course. Siyar was ecstatic over Liverpool’s 4-0 beating of Barcelona in a pre-season friendly and seemed to have committed to memory the dates of many of the games in the forthcoming season.
I asked him his name. 'Siyarinwa' he seemed to say. I repeated it back to him .'No, my friend. Siyar Inwa' he replied, 'Inwa!' and beamed hugely at me. It took a while for me to register what he meant until he showed me a crumpled identity paper with his name on it: Siyar Ynwa. ''You are joking!' I said, 'Really?'
'Really, yes!' he grinned. 'YNWA, You'll Never Walk Alone. That is my name.' We both laughed.
'Well Siyar Ynwa', I promised, 'when I leave for the UK, I will give you my Liverpool shirt'. My ribs are still recovering from the hug he gave me'.
'Perhaps you are leaving tomorrow?' he asked.
A week later I saw Siyar playing five-a-side with his
mates on the concrete ‘pitch’, wearing his newly-washed Liverpool shirt. He
smiled across to me - kindred spirits in the beautiful game that can erase barriers.
I hope one day he makes it to Anfield.
I hope one day he makes it to Anfield.
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