@tall_bearded wrote:
Define miles.
Miles in the context of say my village in Afghanistan to Kabul airport. Or from my village to Islamabad where a booked a flight to Indonesia. Or is it ever onwards toward the horizon, though a half a dozen or so former Soviet republics and onwards down through East Asia to Indonesia. Seems like an awfully long and dangerous route when, if I wanted somewhere safe to stay, all I had to do is head west to Europe.
As for destroying documents before I leave, why on earth I would do that, I mean, with them once across the border I can use them for identity or travel purposes. Without them, when caught it’s a one way ticket to a UN supervised refugee camp.
But then there is the issue of money. If I fled then where did I get the money to support myself whilst on foot to Indonesia and where did I get the money to bribe someone to let me in, and were did I get the money pay the smuggler. Ah yes I was prudent and got the money out before I fled. But then if a had the foresight to replan why not include in provision to safe drop trave document.
Why don't you read some of the stories of the people who have made such journeys?
It sounds as if you have read absolutely nothing.
http://www.defencereservessupport.gov.au/media/188424/news_breakers_march_2012.pdf
SQNLDR Al Muderis SR, shared his story with the Editor …
‘I’d graduated as a doctor from Baghdad University about two years before
the Hospital shooting – a murderous act that occurred within minutes of the
Iraq military ordering doctors to cut the ears from three bus loads of Iraqi
deserters. The doctor’s murder was simply to get our attention’.
‘Soldiers herded us forward to conduct the heinous act of surgery. A gap
in surveillance enabled some of us to flee the scene. I hid in a toilet block
and lost contact with the others’.
‘I headed for Jordon knowing that Iraqi intelligence officers
may not be far behind’.
‘I could hear soldiers searching room-to-room calling for doctors who
couldn’t be accounted for – my heart was pounding – my stomach was
churning – then came a moment of silence. I seized the opportunity to run
through the Hospital corridors to the outside world; I kept running until deep
into the outer suburbs of Baghdad’.
‘I knew that there was no turning back!’
Doctor Al Muderis became a moving target as he travelled 100km across
country to the old family home, west of Baghdad. He contacted his mother,
Kamila Al Turck through relatives. His father, Abdul Razak, an Iraqi Supreme
Court Judge passed away in 1995.
SQNLDR Al Muderis said, ‘My mother was very distressed because Iraqi
intelligence officers had already been at the house looking for me’.
‘Mother quickly arranged for documentation that showed my profession as a
tradesman – she fed me – I rested – she gave me money and kissed me
goodbye’.
‘I then fled into the darkness. My dream to become an orthopaedic robotic
limb surgeon was under threat, as was my life ’.
‘Escape by stealth became a more open affair when my aunt
suggested I should go to Malaysia’.
‘Travelling by bus, I headed for Jordon knowing that Iraqi intelligence officers
may not be far behind. As the bus approached the Iraq/Jordon border, my
heart again began to race; it was as if time stood still, a surreal experience
not knowing if my newly acquired papers would bring about my arrest’.
‘I was recorded at the border as a tradesman – thanks mother – the bus,
with me on board, passed into Jordon’.
‘It was a 500km journey to Amman where I contacted my aunty,
an American citizen: for the first time, life-on-the-run, had a sense
of calm and safety’.
