Maung Tun Thu - One Night in Lisbon

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I looked at the ship and was lost in thought. The ship was ablaze with lights. It was anchored in the port of Tagus. I had only been in Lisbon for a week, but I was still unaccustomed to the bright lights that shone so brightly and without reason.

The cities of the countries I have passed through are as dark as coal mines at night. The light of a candle in the dark is a situation far more frightening than the plague of the Middle Ages. After all, I am not a person who has passed through twentieth-century Europe.

The ship is a passenger ship. It has already loaded with goods. I also know that it will leave the next afternoon.

Under the flickering electric lights, cranes hoisted large packages of meat, fish, canned goods, bread, and vegetables into the ship's hold. The ship's cargo workers were nimbly carrying passengers' luggage and packages onto the deck. The ship was preparing for a sea voyage.

According to the Bible, during the Great Flood, Noah and his family set out on a journey of survival in a large boat they had built themselves. The boat eventually came to rest on the Ararat Mountains in what is now eastern Turkey.

This ship, now before my eyes, is like Noah's ark, which set out on its journey towards the end of the world. In fact, every ship that left Europe during these months and days of 1942 was like Noah's ark. The last place that these ships would land on was Mount Ararat, and America was the only place where they could land.

The water is rising day by day. Those who are like water are taking over Germany and Austria. They are also in Poland and Prague.

Amsterdam, Brussels, Copenhagen, Oslo, and Paris are all under their control. The same is true of the major cities of Italy. Spain is also in a state of complete insecurity.

The coast of Portugal has become a place of last resort for refugees. It is the gateway to America. Therefore, if you do not reach this place, you will be considered lost in every way.

If you don't get there, you'll fall into the hands of consulates, police departments, and other government agencies, and they'll do whatever they want. If you apply for entry, it will be denied. If you apply for work, it will be denied. If you apply for residency, it will be denied at all.

Eventually, they are forced into the clutches of detention camps and bureaucratic red tape, where they struggle with psychological suffering, such as loneliness and homesickness.

In fact, during wartime, fear and suffering are unavoidable. In such times, a person's sense of self-determination is completely lost. There is only one thing that is important and essential. And that is none other than a passport that allows legal residence.

That afternoon I went to the “Estoril Casino” and gambled. My clothes were still shiny and new, so I was allowed inside.

It is a form of extortion, relying on fate and risking one's life, believing that whatever happens will happen because there is no hope.

Our Portuguese visas were about to expire in a few days. Neither he nor I had any visas to enter other countries. We had been planning our future since we were in the new country. We had thought out every possible way to get to New York by ship.

The ship now anchored in the Tagus is the last one on our list. However, we need more than three hundred dollars to pay for the ticket. For a foreigner in Lisbon, there is no other way to earn money than by playing at the casino. So I went to the casino to try to earn some money.

In fact, as far as I can tell, this idea is a meaningless idea. It is also a ridiculously crazy idea. If we can, we will get on the ship. Then it will be a very wonderful and extraordinary event.

But our job is to face danger in the face of hopelessness, hoping for the possibility of a miraculous hero. In fact, our faith is not firm.

We lost fifty-six dollars out of the sixty-five dollars we had in hand.

* * *

It was quite late at night, and the harbor was deserted. But after a while, I saw a man moving not far from where I was standing. At first he was wandering aimlessly. Then he stopped and stared at the ship. I thought he must be a refugee stranded like me, so I stopped looking at him carefully.

After a while, my mind became clear. I felt in my mind that the person from earlier was standing and watching me. A refugee can never get rid of the “fear of the police” that always lurks in his heart. Even when he is asleep, or when there is nothing else to fear for him, that fear is still there.

Because of this, I turned back.