they have no choice

Close your eyes for a moment—imagine grabbing your children’s hands in the middle of the night, the walls shaking with bomb blasts and gunfire, the street outside no longer safe. You have only moments to gather what you can carry. Fear fills every breath. The only option left is to run.

This is not fiction. Every day, thousands of men, women, and children step into crowded, battered dinghies. Their families whisper goodbye to everything just for a chance at life. If it were our own children crying or our partner trembling, wouldn’t we do anything to save them?

Life at the Edge: The Reality Behind the Escape

No one chooses this unless there’s no other way. We sometimes forget what drives people to risk everything. Families leave behind burnt-out homes, bombed classrooms, and empty marketplaces. For them, staying often means facing certain death. Hunger gnaws at them. Bombs shatter their sleep. Neighbours disappear overnight, never to return.

Daily life is a blur of fear and loss. Old neighbours are now strangers. Markets have turned to rubble. The path to school, once safe, is now full of armed men. The only choices left are dangerous roads or the unknown waterway.

Forced to Flee: Stories of Fear and Hope

Let’s listen for just a moment.

• A mother clutches her child’s small hand, the child’s shoes lost in the scramble. She whispers a promise of somewhere safe.
• A boy who once played football outside his house now carries his baby brother as they hide from soldiers.
• A grandfather wraps his coat around his wife, their wedding photo hidden in his pocket, hoping they will reach safety together.

Each story carries a longing for peace, a desperate hope we all would know. Their bravery does not mean lack of fear. They’re terrified but have to keep moving.

Crossing the Water: The Perilous Journey

Once at the shore, hope is in short supply. The boats are made for a dozen, but forty stand waiting, desperate. Children squeezed against strangers. Mothers pray quietly, fathers count faces over and over, terrified of losing anyone.

Night hides the shore as they push off. Salt stings their skin. Waves slap the boat, each one threatening to tip them over. Water rises inside the dinghy. The engine coughs and stalls. Every splash could mean disaster. Many cannot swim, but all hold onto hope.

We picture a child curled up against their mother, eyes searching the black water. The only light is the moon reflecting off terrified faces. Every minute at sea is a fight for survival. Silence is broken only by soft prayers or the cries of babies.

• Overloaded dinghies struggle to stay afloat.
• Adults swap places so children stay above water.
• Every wave, every gust of wind could mean life or death.

When the World Turns Away: Facing Scorn and Survival

Arriving on new shores, relief fades fast. Instead of welcome, most find gates, police, and suspicion. We see families shivering in line. Hungry faces glare back. People hope for open arms but meet rejection.

Barriers go up. Words that bite, “Go home. Not here. You don’t belong.” Sometimes, bruises join those words. Children sleep on cold floors in tents or abandoned buildings. Simple kindness becomes rare.

From Hope to Dehumanisation

Hope slowly drains away. Stares, mutters, spat words. Many see only “migrant” or “refugee,” not parents, children, teachers, or farmers. Kindness is swept aside by fear, worry, and hate. People are treated as if they carry nothing but trouble.

We remember how news headlines strip away names and faces, turning people into numbers or problems to solve. Yet every so often, someone pauses. A local family brings bread. A child waves hello. These small moments resist the slide into cruelty.

Fighting for Dignity and a Future

Even beaten down, people reach for dignity. Mothers share what little food remains. Fathers teach children to read, hoping knowledge will unlock the future. Children draw pictures of trees, houses, and the lives left behind. Elders comfort the young, telling stories of hope.

Against all odds, many push forward. Some learn the local language, find small jobs, or help each other build makeshift schools. The fight is not just for survival but for meaning, pride, and hope.

Conclusion

We have a choice: see refugees as endless statistics or as people whose only crime is wanting to protect those they love. If war landed on our doorstep, there’s no doubt we’d do the same.

With empathy and action, we can draw a line between fear and hope. Let’s treat refugees as we’d want to be treated—with dignity, with kindness, with open hearts.

Home isn’t just a place. It’s the people we keep safe and the warmth we share, even when the world turns cold—let’s remember that when we hear about new arrivals, because the next story could just as easily be our own!