My eyes are streaming reading his story in the Guardian.
I met Besh in the camp in Dunkirk last year, and we instantly became friends…
He is 25, speaks perfect English and is the oldest of 5 brothers…the youngest is 14.
The boys and their mother fled Iraq after ISIS took over their village.
Their father stayed to fight.
Not long into their crazy journey, the boys were sent to a different camp from their mum when police in Greece forced the men and women to separate.
Only boys under 14 were allowed to stay with their mothers.
This is the story of how the brothers did everything to find her.
This bit killed me:
“Beshwar walked into the mud-soaked Dunkirk camp.
“Suddenly everything became very slow – I felt dizzy. I arrived in the camp and saw all the people, the tents and the mud. I was shouting her name. My heart was beating so fast. It’s strange but it was like a dream. I was looking everywhere like a crazy person. Shouting.”
Then he saw his mother.
“I knew it was her!”
Finally, months of patience paid off because there, standing in front of a tiny stove, was Roonak.
“I screamed ‘Mum, Mum!’ We ran together and enveloped her. We were all crying. I remember people around us shouting – ‘It’s the sons, it’s the five sons!’ I reached her and we hugged and hugged. I will never forget that feeling – I knew then why I had kept going for so long.”