Vreemdelingenrecht.com - het weblog

The writer worked for the British council in the Emirates around the time of the First Gulf war. It is definitely still a diary so very fragmentary. Not a memoir. The Arabic names have many similarities. Which Sakr? Which Mohammed? What is difficult. Still interesting to read. But very British upper lip and missing to grab you. I mean there was a Gulf War going on with scud missiles. Too my surprise I saw someone mentioned I actually met myself once. The gentleman was attending a conference where I was a student helping. During the break I suggested a walk on the beach. He joined and several others. The ambassador of his country of nationality was completely ignored. Young as I was I said to that guy "Come you are welcome too." So I had a long walk on the beach with an ambassador and a former minister turned refugee of the same country. I mean only when a young girl or when you are Madeleine Albright you get away with that. In the evening the minister-refugee joine...

In 1968, while studying at the Mons Officer Cadet School in the United Kingdom, I needed to visit a hospital. There I met a doctor who, to my surprise, spoke fluent Arabic. I learned that he was new to the UK, so I asked if he intended to stay long or return home. He replied with an Arabic saying that translates as: “My home is where I can eat.” That doctor’s words stayed with me for many years, because they underscored the contradiction between our idealized view of “home” and the harsh realities of life that push talented people to leave their homes. The doctor was a classic case of the “brain drain” phenomenon that has afflicted developing countries for decades. These countries spend scarce resources educating doctors, engineers, and scientists, in the hope that they will become engines of prosperity. Then we watch with dismay as they migrate to the West, taking with them the promise of their talent. It is, of course, everyone’s right to choose a better life, wh...