I am reading the latest book in the Alexander McCall Smith series about Mma Ramotswe who is the owner of the Number1 Ladies Detective Agency in Botswana. Aside from the charm of the series leading lady, what strikes one is the love she has for her country, its customs and its history. Her gratitude for her place in the world is boundless in spite of all the challenges her daily life brings.
It has made me think about all the people who are on the move around the world today. The United Nations Refugee Agency has stated that figures for 2020 indicate that some 79.5 million people have been forced from their homes due to persecution, conflict, and human rights violations. That number includes 29.6 million refugees, 4.2 million asylum seekers, as well as 45.7 million internally displaced people.
I am sure that most of those people did not want to leave all that was familiar to them, to head out on an uncertain road to an uncertain destination. They had a family, a village, a city, a life. They were wrapped in the customs of their time and place which they cherished, and now they are uprooted and thrown upon the kindness of strangers.
As an American I have always had a place in the world that was secure. I lived abroad a good deal, but could always return home to what was familiar with no fear that a drought, or a tribal war, or a religious conflict would take my home away from me. My definition of what it is to be an American may differ from yours, but in one thing we are united. This country, for all its philosophical disagreements, is our place. Like Mma Ramotswe we can look up at the wide sky above our heads, and know that tomorrow we will not have all our belongings on our backs, our small children trudging beside us, as we set out on the road to nowhere known or familiar.