Submitted by Wei on 30 March, 2006 - 01:07.
Dear Friends,
A friend of mine wrote the following small tribute to the tragic event happened in 2004 where many illegal migrants (Chinese cockle pickers) died on a freezing evening in Morecambe, England. I thought you may wish to share this touching piece with me.
With my best wishes,
Wei
The Voice of the Drowning Man - 5th February 2004, Morecambe Bay
“This man was not important in the scale of things. You would not have looked at him twice if he passed you in the street. He was not powerful, a person of influence.
Quite the opposite. He was a non-person. Someone who was outside our way of things. Indeed he should not have been here. But on a dark lonely and freezing night in February 2004 he was overwhelmed by the incoming tide racing across Morecambe Bay.
This week, in the hush of an English Court Room, we heard his voice. “Sinking water, sinking water. Many many sinking water.” We heard his voice stifled, engulfed by waves. Guo Bin Long’s last action was to phone his wife 5000 miles away: “I am in great danger. I am up to my chest in water. Maybe I am going to die.” She could do nothing.
Sometimes in our everyday lives we hear and see things that remain in our heads for many years. I can still hear the voices on the hijacked planes on September 11th, 2001 over New York. The voice of this humble man in despair will remain with me and I suspect many of us for a long time. It speaks directly, agonisingly, poignantly in a way no amount of dramatisation could. I cannot forget or ignore that voice.
It is universal. It protests against all the terrible things we do to each other, against our willingness to exploit our fellow human beings, against our indifference when something does not directly affect our everyday lives. Our silence reinforces their isolation. And we turn the blind eye. They work in fear here in our own country and in Europe because we really have not come to terms with what we should do. It is our indifference makes people-smuggling profitable.
This man and his Chinese friends who perished with him paid huge crippling sums to these exploiters, lived in obscenely cramped conditions, and worked long hours on freezing northern beaches, so that he could send money home to his family in the little village of Zelang in Southern China. Their ambitions were not to destroy or hurt or bomb anyone. They were honourable and they were ones we all share.
Guo Bin was not a nobody. Nor were any of the cockle pickers. In his drowning words, he is to be heard and is incredibly special. We should not forget him.
Cllr. Peter Lewis, Chair, Charnwood Racial Equality Council ( www.charnwoodrec.org )
