The bitter aftertaste of a rescue

It's 3am and I'm finally home. I've had a long, tiring day at the pier, where five rescue boats arrived. I've eaten, I'm in bed and I can't sleep. I can't shake these pictures.

I think of the boy from Eritrea, about 12 years old, who arrived all alone and whose language no one on the boat spoke. What must he have been going through?

I think of the woman from Palestine who couldn't believe she had arrived and kept talking about the high waves and how scared she was.

I think of the little boy who was so happy when we gave him a small, ugly, pink plush mouse.

I also think of reassuring someone from Bangladesh that they needn't worry about being sent away to Albania. "Nobody is being deported to Albania at the moment."  But I also warned him not to trust anyone here. I don't know if he understood me. He was so happy that everyone was so nice here and I didn't know how to tell him that half of the people who were talking to him so 'nicely' were from Frontex and just wanted to know who was driving this boat in order to criminalise this person.

I think of all the people who have landed here today and said "Italy - very good" and I could only think that this country and the EU are not "very good". There are good people here who are trying to help, but the policies of this country and the European Union are not good.

Faced with these expressions of sympathy, I wanted to shout: "The European policy of isolation is to blame for the fact that you are exposed to this enormous danger when you enter the country, that you cannot just get on a safe plane or a fast ferry, and I am very sorry about that, but I cannot change that. All I can do is offer you tea and a blanket," but I don't do that.

Sometimes I am almost ashamed to be a European. I know there is nothing anyone can do about where they were born, but the sight of the people arriving makes me realise how many people have probably not made it to safe harbour today either. The Alarmphone has lost contact with two ships at sea, their fate is still unknown.

I think about how many of the people I spoke to today could have been on those missing ships. And never again anyone would be aible to offer them tea - and feel so helpless in this moment.