By Kathy Hughes
Contributing Writer
Except for a few brief interludes, the world has been in a terrible mess ever since my arrival. I was born one year following the bombing of Nagasaki, and I was part of the fallout from that nuclear catastrophe, or so I have always thought.
Somehow, I began to take responsibility for the world’s misery at an early age, at about 12, during the height of the Cold War. I knew the Soviets were out to destroy us, and I believed there must be some way to turn this situation around. The solution came to me in a dream after I had learned that part of their aggression stemmed from the fact that they had no “warm water ports.”
It seemed so simple — “warm water ” to me referred to Florida, and the epitome of Florida’s climate was oranges. Remember, I was only 12 — the Soviets could be appeased by sending them boatloads of Florida oranges.
The Cold War may be over, but the Russians still have no oranges, and the world continues to be in a mess, even more complicated than before. Yet still, the question remains: Why doesn’t someone do something about it? I have watched the Syrian refugee crisis with horror and distress: people drowning in their desperate attempt to escape a brutal war, and the survivors trapped in filthy refugee camps, punished for merely daring to exist.
Having lost a brother to drowning (while someone watched), I cannot believe we continue to witness these events and no one does anything about it. Surely, there are seaworthy boats (instead of flimsy inflatable rafts) in Turkey and surrounding countries that could transport people to safety. I think of Dunkirk, when fleets of private boats helped evacuate stranded British soldiers during WWII. Why doesn’t someone do something? I would, if I owned a boat, and if I could somehow get to the Eastern Mediterranean. Private people on Lesbos are the ones providing food, water and sanctuary to the refugees who arrive, while the rest of the world is unwilling to risk the funds and goodwill to mount a sustained rescue effort.
Now, it seems, the refugees have nowhere to flee as fences and armed guards refuse them even safe passage. There could be a solution, even a simple one, that everyone has overlooked. I could supply a solution, but who would listen?
My solution would be cruise ships! Yes, what happens to old, decommissioned cruise ships? They are rusting away, awaiting sale and recycling to new purposes. Some have accommodations for a thousand or more occupants, plus space for classrooms, social services — floating villages which are isolated from hostile communities and potential exploitation.
Some of the refugees could provide the staff necessary to support the community– cooks, doctors, nurses, pharmacists, teachers, child care, social workers, security — many refugees are themselves professionals with experience, and they are eager to be useful.
Now, with whom can I share this vision? The only Greek shipping magnate I ever have heard of is Ari Onassis, and he is long gone. Perhaps, a wealthy Arab would want to demonstrate magnanimity, or the owner of a Norwegian cruise line — someone with compassion, wealth and largess of heart. If not to save the world, perhaps one person could save a small piece of it. I wish it were simply a matter of sending oranges, but that opportunity was lost long ago.
