18-year old swimmer Yusra Mardini finished 45th in the 100-meter freestyle heats, 12 seconds behind the top time. Nothing close to a medal. Nothing close to notable. But the story of how she got to Rio, transcends sports. Even more, it is story vital for our collective heart.
In August 2015, Yusra and her sister saved the lives of 20 people, including their own, after jumping off their sinking dinghy into the Aegean Sea. They swam for three hours, pushing and pulling the boat until it reached the shore at Lesbos.
Yusra was one of the 10 members of the Refugee Olympic Team (athletes from Syria, South Sudan, Ethiopia and the Democratic Republic of the Congo). In war-torn Damascus, Yusra was a talented swimmer and professionally backed by the Syrian Olympic Committee. The unrest in the besieged country made training difficult. “Sometimes we couldn’t train because of the war,” she said. “And sometimes you would be swimming in pools where the roofs were blown open in three or four places.”
As Damascus became increasingly unstable, Yusra and her sister Sarah left Syria, traveling through Lebanon and Turkey before trying to reach Greece. Thirty minutes after setting off from Turkey, the motor on their boat, which was meant for six people but carrying 20, began to fail. Most of those on board could not swim. With no other alternative, Yusra, Sarah and two strong swimmers jumped into the sea swimming for the three hours in open water.
“We were the only four who knew how to swim,” she said of the experience. “I had one hand with the rope attached to the boat as I moved my two legs and one arm. It was three and half hours in cold water. Your body is almost like… done. I don’t know if I can describe that.”
This is made-for-TV-movie stuff. A nightmare that could make anyone’s heart stop.
It is not surprising that Yusra now hates open water, but the memory of that swim is not a nightmare for her. “I remember that without swimming I would never be alive maybe because of the story of this boat. It’s a positive memory for me.”
I love this girl’s attitude. She is self-effacing and resilient. “It’s tough,” she has said. “It was really hard, for everyone, and I don’t blame anyone if they cried. But sometimes you just have to move on.”
And funny. She talked about the children in the boat who were very afraid. “I needed to make them smile and laugh.” Her patience with those who want a slice of the phenomenon she represents seems boundless. Including the Serbian journalists asking her to smile and say: “Hello Serbia” to the camera.
“A lot of people want pictures of me.” She smiles.
Although they made it to shore in Lesbos, that wasn’t even the hardest part. The sisters traveled by foot or on smuggler’s buses through Greece, Macedonia and Serbia and into Hungary. They finally made it to Berlin, where they spent a hard, cold winter. With the help of an interpreter at the refugee camp where they lived, Yusra connected with a local sports club and began training. When she and her German trainer heard about the refugee team, she applied for and was granted a training scholarship.
A refugee is a person forced to leave their home because of persecution. They are now displaced. And when that happens, your world is on tilt. You are at a loss. At sea. Without a home. Your dreams fractured. Without a sanctuary. Literally.
This story inspires me because every single one of us can relate to times when our world has been on tilt. Or the world of someone we dearly love.
Yusra inspires me. “It was quite hard to think that you are a swimmer,” she remembered thinking, “and you are gonna end up dying in the water.”
Even so, when their boat began to sink, she jumped in the water. You see, here’s the deal:
I don’t know if we’ll make it. But I do know I can keep swimming. I don’t know if all will turn out according to the script in my mind. But I do know that I can show up to this moment with my whole heart.
I don’t know if anything I do will make a difference. But I do know that just by jumping in, I already did. Sometimes I wonder if I’m made of that kind of stuff. You know, hero and all that. There are two kinds of hero. The Olympic sporting gods and goddesses, larger than life. Michael Phelps, Usain Bolt, Katy Ledecky, Simone Biles. I watch them in wonderment and awe.
And, there are ordinary heroes. I’m pretty sure I may never be required to pull a boat filled with people in open water, but there is no doubt that I can…
Practice kindness. For everyone needs moments of gladness.
Practice compassion. For everyone knows pain and needs comfort.
Practice mercy. For everyone needs an antidote to hatred, to sorrow and to loss.
Offer sanctuary. For everyone has moments without a home.
Let us remember that heroes are ordinary souls who carry the weight of ordinary life. And heroism is born in every act of kindness and compassion, no matter how small. Because in a world cynical and afraid, kindness is always bravery. And it takes courage to be kind and to fight for mercy and justice and sanctuary.
Asked about the Opening Ceremony, Yusra said. “I was so proud and happy that everyone was cheering for us. I just felt like dancing. I don’t know how to dance samba, but maybe I’m going to learn. (Syrian) dancing depends on your hips and your stomach. You have to be a really good (butter) fly swimmer to do it.”
Yes, Yusra. Yes. Dance.
written my friend Terry Hershey
