and scab and heal and bleed again
and turn every scar into a joke."
(from buildings and bridges).
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
May days: scabs and sores, hospitals and healing
Her body an itchy scab
wrapped in nine years of pain and dejection,
a dream of getting out
barely flickering in glassy eyes.
What do you do when she left her country for the ‘wrong’ reasons
Are non-refugees non-beings in this sick system?
His legs mark the extremes of war
one shriveled from an old bullet,
the other fresh, throbbing, gaping,
twice its normal size.
Yet his spirit, eyes, smile – sparkling.
Sustained by hope of healing
when he gets out.
A birth, a death
a lightness, a tiredness
one life beats in the hospital after heart-opening
another hangs in the balance as he shuts out the conspiratorial world
on the streets.
Just another month in Cairo.
wrapped in nine years of pain and dejection,
a dream of getting out
barely flickering in glassy eyes.
What do you do when she left her country for the ‘wrong’ reasons
Are non-refugees non-beings in this sick system?
His legs mark the extremes of war
one shriveled from an old bullet,
the other fresh, throbbing, gaping,
twice its normal size.
Yet his spirit, eyes, smile – sparkling.
Sustained by hope of healing
when he gets out.
A birth, a death
a lightness, a tiredness
one life beats in the hospital after heart-opening
another hangs in the balance as he shuts out the conspiratorial world
on the streets.
Just another month in Cairo.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
poem that fits the challenges of 'victimhood'
not all clients are like this but there are some days, when you feel that people are coming to you with their burdens... and it's hard to help them move beyond that... here's a poem that encapsulates this beautifully and the call to remain lovingly engaged:
A vote for the gentle light
By Charles Bukowski
burned senseless by other people’s constant
depression,
I pull the curtains apart,
aching for the gentle light.
it’s there, it’s there
somewhere,
I’m sure.
oh, the faces of depression, expressions
pulled down into the gluey dark.
the bitter small sour mouths,
the self-pity, the self-justification is
too much, all too much.
the faces in shadow,
deep creases of gloom.
there’s no courage there, just the desire to
possess something – admiration, fame, lovers,
money, any damn thin
so long as it comes easy.
so long as they don’t have to do
what’s necessary.
and when they don’t succeed they
become embittered,
ugly,
they imagine that they have
been slighted, cheated,
demeaned.
then they concentrate upon their
unhappiness, their last refuge.
and they’re good at that,
they are very good at that.
they have so much unhappiness
they insist upon your sharing it
too.
they bathe and splash in their
unhappiness,
they splash it upon you.
it’s all they have.
it’s all they want.
it’s all they can be.
you must refuse to join them.
you must remain yourself.
you must open the curtains
or the blinds
or the windows
to the gentle light.
to joy.
its there in life
and even in death
it can be
there.
A vote for the gentle light
By Charles Bukowski
burned senseless by other people’s constant
depression,
I pull the curtains apart,
aching for the gentle light.
it’s there, it’s there
somewhere,
I’m sure.
oh, the faces of depression, expressions
pulled down into the gluey dark.
the bitter small sour mouths,
the self-pity, the self-justification is
too much, all too much.
the faces in shadow,
deep creases of gloom.
there’s no courage there, just the desire to
possess something – admiration, fame, lovers,
money, any damn thin
so long as it comes easy.
so long as they don’t have to do
what’s necessary.
and when they don’t succeed they
become embittered,
ugly,
they imagine that they have
been slighted, cheated,
demeaned.
then they concentrate upon their
unhappiness, their last refuge.
and they’re good at that,
they are very good at that.
they have so much unhappiness
they insist upon your sharing it
too.
they bathe and splash in their
unhappiness,
they splash it upon you.
it’s all they have.
it’s all they want.
it’s all they can be.
you must refuse to join them.
you must remain yourself.
you must open the curtains
or the blinds
or the windows
to the gentle light.
to joy.
its there in life
and even in death
it can be
there.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Empowering Refugee Women in Egypt
Most of the women I see at AMERA are mothers. Single mothers. Husbands have disappeared, are in detention, or are not in the country with them. While it is often easier for refugee women to find work in Egypt than men, this becomes more difficult when they have children – particularly young children under the age of six. What can they do to survive, and nurture their little ones, especially when financial assistance from the UNHCR is only for people with certain levels of legal status and for short periods of time?
Thinking through these things has led me to believe that we’ve got to be more creative at AMERA… to develop interventions that support the individual in crisis and yet go beyond a band-aid solution. Sure, there are vocational training options in Cairo, but these do not provide the tools of the trade afterward or guarantee jobs… and almost all the women I know want to take the coiffeur training. What else can women with small children do?
What about:
- Opening a daycare in their community? (Especially as many women need child-care in order to take other jobs! So this creates a broader enabling environment for women to work)
- Starting a restaurant or catering service in their community? (I know I’d take Somali or Eritrean food over Egyptian any day, and I’m guessing that the people from these places would appreciate this as well!)
- Developing arts and crafts to cater to Egypt’s booming tourism industry
- Tailoring/sewing/knitting/embroidering garments if supported to start their own business from home
- Offering in-house beauty/cosmetics services (eg. waxing, henna…)
Ideally these kinds of ideas would come from the women themselves based on an understanding of the needs or potential niches in their community and the resources available to them. I’m sure they could come up with ideas ten times more innovative and profitable!
But, it’s not as easy as brainstorming… realistically here, what do women need to start up these kinds of projects?
- Working capital or a start-up grant for the initial resources
- Management or marketing skills
- In some cases direct skills for their profession
- Space to work from (eg. a house… Which many of them lack!!)
So where does one begin then: with organizations like Americans Aiding Refugees with grants for resources? With CBOs that could help women connect with the required resources and trainings? By talking with religious institutions that have a mandate to help the poor about offering skills trainings or grants? By conducting these focus groups with the women themselves? We have the framework for a project here.
And what are the remaining obstacles? The biggest that comes to mind is lack of desire of some women to support themselves!
I have noticed that women who have experienced horrific things in their past (eg. physical torture, rape, years of domestic violence in a forced marriage) often have a more difficult time taking positive initiative. In a book I’m reading about positive psychology right now there was a story about a test done on three groups of dogs. The first group received electric shocks, but could press a panel and turn them off, which they learned how to do. The second group was given electric shocks and could do nothing to stop them. A third group of dogs was not shocked at all. Then all three groups of dogs were placed boxes with a barrier they could jump over to exit. While inside the box they were shocked but when they jumped out they would no longer be shocked. Both the first group and the third group jumped out of the box, but the second group (that previously could not control the shocks) simply whimpered and stayed in the box. I wonder if some of these women are like this? They expect to suffer regardless of what they do, and don’t have any vision for how their lives could be different so they just stay in the mental boxes of victimhood that they’re familiar with. And it doesn’t help when they’re told by their doctor at one of UNHCR’s implementing partners: “All you need to do it find a husband!”
How can humans reprogram ourselves to envision a life beyond suffering, and to take some positive steps towards this? I don’t have answers to this yet – particularly in working with people operating with such different cultural frameworks. At AMERA we’ve talked things through rationally with women – explained the brokenness of the UNHCR system and that they will likely not have all of their needs met by other people and therefore have to begin meeting their own needs. We’ve suggested counseling (which is usually rejected). We’ve offered vocational training courses with UNHCR partners (though these programs are not always available in their mother tongue). We’ve talked about how strong and resilient these women have been in coming to Egypt and in raising their children, and the importance of continuing to support them. What else can we do? How do we break through?
There are some who do want to become self-sufficient through skill and business development. I now have three single mothers enrolled in a sewing course with the hopes of a grant for sewing machines and materials for them after they graduate. I have another woman working to develop a handicraft business if she gets a $200 grant for the start-up costs. It’s about finding the right match at the right time, and the resources to support this. (Fingers crossed that the grants come through for these women!).
The challenge is that these interventions are helping only a very small group of women who have taken the initiative to come to AMERA. What about the women who are not aware of our programming, who may be in situations of even greater vulnerability? How could one scale programming up to affect a much larger group of women, and how could one respond to their specific cultural backgrounds and linguistic needs? I think that these kinds of discussions need to happen with UNHCR-Egypt so that local integration becomes a more reasonable possibility here. In situations of protracted limbo we need a development orientation as opposed to a humanitarian emergency-response approach.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Somany Somalis... may you enter peace
What kind of refugee are you?
There are two sorts in Cairo: those who have sought asylum in Egypt because of a 'well founded' fear of persecution based on race/ethnicity, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a social group (as defined in the 1951 Convention) ; and those who were compelled to leave their homes as a result of "external aggression, occupation, foreign domination or events seriously disturbing public order in either part or the whole of his country of origin or nationality" (as stated in the OAU Convention of 1969). The former category is the standard definition applied around the globe, while the latter applies only within Africa. This means if you're a 1969 refugee in Cairo you don't qualify for resettlement outside the continent... and there are no countries in Africa that currently offer resettlement. Essentially these refugees become stuck in transit countries where they first seek asylum, unable to move on, and in many cases unable to return - at least in the short run.
These days, this is often the story with Somalis in Cairo (unless from a minority group). There seems to be a growing community that cannot go back and lack the connections or clan-affiliations to leave. A number of the people I see are from this arid part of the world, and they have somehow found a special home in my heart. While I admittedly know very little about their cultures and country, I love characteristics I am beginning to identify - their reputation as prolific poets and story-tellers, the oft-tenacious and strong-willed personalities, the care of Somalis for their communities and families.
Since starting at AMERA I have noticed that those from different homelands in the horn of Africa often have different opportunities in Egypt... an Eritrean woman may turn down a live-in housekeeping position that pays 300 USD a month while a Somali is struggling to work for 300-400le a month as a traveling cleaner. There are so many single Somali women caring for many children, and they often seem to face much more difficulty integrating (as a result of racism, linguistics, gendered expectations, etc). Sudanese may face similar exposure to racism, but at least the majority of them arrive knowing the lingua franca.
How do you face the heaviness of someone's limited opportunities, or the cultural patterns that seem to hinder many Somali women from processing their experiences of rape or violence? I guess you profess your powerlessness, your limited ability to understand and work with worldviews that are so different from your own, and open to listening and learning. A friend and former AMERA-ite recently wrote "listening truly is an act of love and one of the most powerful skills we can offer to others". That is one act that is offered too rarely to many refugees and that can build bonds of humanity and perhaps even hope.
I have been thinking much of hope and pain over the past few weeks. Today it was therapeutic to laugh with a Somali friend over coffee, difficult to watch news of the latest drought (again exacerbated by the ongoing violence) on Somalian television with another dear family, and important to create space to hear the personal pains of a Somali family AMERA staff are working with to build stability and opportunities. It was also a blessing to digest the words of another who lived in and loved Somaliland as a stranger - Margaret Lawrence's accounts of her years there during her mid-twenties provide a beautiful exploration of the human condition and glimpses into Somali culture in the Prophet's Camel Bell. As I think about people I know from Somalia, and the faces of that news cast again her closing words (written in 1963) still seem fitting:
"What will happen there now, no one knows, but whatever course they [Somalis] take will not be an easy one in a land that has so few resources except human ones. The best we can wish them, and the most difficult, is expressed in their own words of farewell. Nabad gelyo - May you enter peace"
May those Somalis struggling in the limbo of Cairo, and each of us, also enter peace.
There are two sorts in Cairo: those who have sought asylum in Egypt because of a 'well founded' fear of persecution based on race/ethnicity, religion, nationality, political opinion or membership in a social group (as defined in the 1951 Convention) ; and those who were compelled to leave their homes as a result of "external aggression, occupation, foreign domination or events seriously disturbing public order in either part or the whole of his country of origin or nationality" (as stated in the OAU Convention of 1969). The former category is the standard definition applied around the globe, while the latter applies only within Africa. This means if you're a 1969 refugee in Cairo you don't qualify for resettlement outside the continent... and there are no countries in Africa that currently offer resettlement. Essentially these refugees become stuck in transit countries where they first seek asylum, unable to move on, and in many cases unable to return - at least in the short run.
These days, this is often the story with Somalis in Cairo (unless from a minority group). There seems to be a growing community that cannot go back and lack the connections or clan-affiliations to leave. A number of the people I see are from this arid part of the world, and they have somehow found a special home in my heart. While I admittedly know very little about their cultures and country, I love characteristics I am beginning to identify - their reputation as prolific poets and story-tellers, the oft-tenacious and strong-willed personalities, the care of Somalis for their communities and families.
Since starting at AMERA I have noticed that those from different homelands in the horn of Africa often have different opportunities in Egypt... an Eritrean woman may turn down a live-in housekeeping position that pays 300 USD a month while a Somali is struggling to work for 300-400le a month as a traveling cleaner. There are so many single Somali women caring for many children, and they often seem to face much more difficulty integrating (as a result of racism, linguistics, gendered expectations, etc). Sudanese may face similar exposure to racism, but at least the majority of them arrive knowing the lingua franca.
How do you face the heaviness of someone's limited opportunities, or the cultural patterns that seem to hinder many Somali women from processing their experiences of rape or violence? I guess you profess your powerlessness, your limited ability to understand and work with worldviews that are so different from your own, and open to listening and learning. A friend and former AMERA-ite recently wrote "listening truly is an act of love and one of the most powerful skills we can offer to others". That is one act that is offered too rarely to many refugees and that can build bonds of humanity and perhaps even hope.
I have been thinking much of hope and pain over the past few weeks. Today it was therapeutic to laugh with a Somali friend over coffee, difficult to watch news of the latest drought (again exacerbated by the ongoing violence) on Somalian television with another dear family, and important to create space to hear the personal pains of a Somali family AMERA staff are working with to build stability and opportunities. It was also a blessing to digest the words of another who lived in and loved Somaliland as a stranger - Margaret Lawrence's accounts of her years there during her mid-twenties provide a beautiful exploration of the human condition and glimpses into Somali culture in the Prophet's Camel Bell. As I think about people I know from Somalia, and the faces of that news cast again her closing words (written in 1963) still seem fitting:
"What will happen there now, no one knows, but whatever course they [Somalis] take will not be an easy one in a land that has so few resources except human ones. The best we can wish them, and the most difficult, is expressed in their own words of farewell. Nabad gelyo - May you enter peace"
May those Somalis struggling in the limbo of Cairo, and each of us, also enter peace.
for a beloved sister ('aynas' no more)
a once-feminist free-spirit succumbs to bridal performance:
blue eyes aflutter,
hennaed, dyed and hairless,
cleavage billowing in low-cut corners.
She is unveiled before us, festooned between conformity and poverty,
petals of desperation, hypocrisy, loneliness adorn her bouquet.
Deaf, smiling, full of sweet superficialities
guests wonder why the rush, hush, absence of his family.
Lights cascade in an electrical nightmare,
lampshades the crowing glory,
and a wall of sound drowns out neighbourhood clatter –
the homeless man in the corner,
the howl of mangy dogs,
children’s laughter as they dance behind balcony curtains,
And that hot-headed husband yelling at his wife again.
If only one could see the spectacle from a distance –
ignore possessiveness,
trust his motives,
be caught up in belly dancing shimmies and female ululation
(instead of bridal bickering between the photo shoot and party).
Will they be happy?
Did she make the right choice?
Perhaps it all makes perfect sense…
these criticisms are built from west-eyed distance…
(and Thank God she is not acquiescent?!)
In this handful of kalimat confetti are prayers for a fruitful marriage:
she chose her path, may she feel peace in her future.
May their days be filled with love and learning...
Yarub.
blue eyes aflutter,
hennaed, dyed and hairless,
cleavage billowing in low-cut corners.
She is unveiled before us, festooned between conformity and poverty,
petals of desperation, hypocrisy, loneliness adorn her bouquet.
Deaf, smiling, full of sweet superficialities
guests wonder why the rush, hush, absence of his family.
Lights cascade in an electrical nightmare,
lampshades the crowing glory,
and a wall of sound drowns out neighbourhood clatter –
the homeless man in the corner,
the howl of mangy dogs,
children’s laughter as they dance behind balcony curtains,
And that hot-headed husband yelling at his wife again.
If only one could see the spectacle from a distance –
ignore possessiveness,
trust his motives,
be caught up in belly dancing shimmies and female ululation
(instead of bridal bickering between the photo shoot and party).
Will they be happy?
Did she make the right choice?
Perhaps it all makes perfect sense…
these criticisms are built from west-eyed distance…
(and Thank God she is not acquiescent?!)
In this handful of kalimat confetti are prayers for a fruitful marriage:
she chose her path, may she feel peace in her future.
May their days be filled with love and learning...
Yarub.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
ragman or richness at AMERA
Since January kairos time has been filled like an overstuffed suitcase. I regret that I've lacked the space to unpack experiences - both beautiful and painful - or share reflections with you. But at long last that’s about to change…
The things nearest my heart these days are commitments with AMERA (the refugee organization where I'm part of the psychosocial team) and the people that come through our doors. It's the most stimulating work I’ve ever done - both emotionally and intellectually as I learn the balance of casework and advocacy strategy, and begin analyzing the structural problems of service provision to refugee communities in Egypt.
It is challenging for any empathetic soul to come to terms with the history of pain many asylum seekers and refugees have lived through, the realities they are facing in Cairo, and the limited possibilities that may continue to be available to them. I have been haunted by words I read a few months ago that “People coming here are like broken glass… they are very fragile and highly fragmented”. While this is not true in all cases – I have been amazed at the strength of many people to fight for their rights and take initiative in constructive ways – it is also hard to hold the energy of the particularly vulnerable who project hopelessness and despondency.
Perhaps the best way to illustrate this is through a few stories… starting with the pain and moving towards beauty.
Today I met with a young man who wanted help addressing a series of medical issues. None of them seem very serious, but as I am not a doctor I will refer him to someone who can offer him professional guidance. While we were talking I was struck by the desire to wrap this man up in a big bandage… although I do not know much of his story yet he has told me he suffers from nightmares about his past, and I know that he came to Cairo alone after the rest of his family died in his home country. He is not working, is being sheltered by a number of friends (rotating from house to house) and has very little money. He is soft spoken, and though of strong build his clothes hang off of his shrunken body like sail with no wind. I feel his presence at AMERA as a cry for help and even if I have to start building trust with him by addressing these medical things (though these seem cosmetic) I want him to know that I care and am trying to support him to build stability and peace. But it's hard when you feel that what he really needs is a leg up... financially and in community support... and he's not making consistent decisions.
Then there was the woman I saw yesterday, who may have been sterilized by a doctor in Egypt while he was performing surgery on her, and the man who was beaten by security guards outside one of the UNHCR implementing partners the other week. These kinds of injustices are all that much more unbearable when you realize the history of rights violations these people have already endured, and the little freedoms that may be theirs as they continue their lives here. There is a whole gantlet of frustrating bureaucracy to navigate, and often it feels like people have nowhere to go with their complaints. Thus, a significant part of AMERA’s mandate is listening to people and helping them figure out how to deal with their frustrations… be it to the police for violations of property or personhood, UNHCR for legal mistakes in the refugee status determination process or UNHCR implementing partners for problems accessing the limited education, health or social services (eg. financial needs or skills trainings) available to them. Unfortunately while we are hypothetically operating within a rights-based framework, the reality of service provision is often very far from this.
But there are also people like the woman I met on Sunday. Her husband recently died leaving her with four small children. When we first met she was uncommunicative, tearful, withdrawn and in desperate need of financial assistance. We were able to clarify the terms of her financial assistance with the UNHCR implementing partner, and help her access it from the appropriate bank. When I saw her three days later she was a completely different woman – smiling, making eye contact, sporting a beautiful red dress and willing to tell me a little about her children. There are definite breakthroughs, moments of celebration.
There are days when you feel a little like a ragman... (a character from a beloved childhood story who wandered the streets trading people's old rags for his new ones, and who picked up their burdens as he took their old rags). There are other days when you wish to be a ragman... you wish to take their burdens on your shoulders, but there is little you can do to address their suffering or challenging circumstances apart from listen. And yet, through all the intensity of these listenful conversations there is an incredible network of colleagues to turn to for support – both in addressing the legal and protection issues refugees face, and in sharing the frustrations and joys of our lives and the lives of our clients. There are also amazing souls at partner organizations who are motivated by similar convictions and who have such dedication to their work. It is an inspiration to connect with and learn from them.
Through AMERA I am being challenged to remain empathetic without becoming burned out, and hopeful while critical of the problems in the system so that we can engage these problems constructively with those who have power to change the system. At the same time that we commit to working for change we must maintain broader perspective... in the words of Erich Fromm "to be ready at every moment for that which is not yet born, and yet not become desperate if there is no birth in our lifetime." (Perhaps a lifetime is a bit long for me to embrace yet, but certainly the next four months in Cairo!!).
The things nearest my heart these days are commitments with AMERA (the refugee organization where I'm part of the psychosocial team) and the people that come through our doors. It's the most stimulating work I’ve ever done - both emotionally and intellectually as I learn the balance of casework and advocacy strategy, and begin analyzing the structural problems of service provision to refugee communities in Egypt.
It is challenging for any empathetic soul to come to terms with the history of pain many asylum seekers and refugees have lived through, the realities they are facing in Cairo, and the limited possibilities that may continue to be available to them. I have been haunted by words I read a few months ago that “People coming here are like broken glass… they are very fragile and highly fragmented”. While this is not true in all cases – I have been amazed at the strength of many people to fight for their rights and take initiative in constructive ways – it is also hard to hold the energy of the particularly vulnerable who project hopelessness and despondency.
Perhaps the best way to illustrate this is through a few stories… starting with the pain and moving towards beauty.
Today I met with a young man who wanted help addressing a series of medical issues. None of them seem very serious, but as I am not a doctor I will refer him to someone who can offer him professional guidance. While we were talking I was struck by the desire to wrap this man up in a big bandage… although I do not know much of his story yet he has told me he suffers from nightmares about his past, and I know that he came to Cairo alone after the rest of his family died in his home country. He is not working, is being sheltered by a number of friends (rotating from house to house) and has very little money. He is soft spoken, and though of strong build his clothes hang off of his shrunken body like sail with no wind. I feel his presence at AMERA as a cry for help and even if I have to start building trust with him by addressing these medical things (though these seem cosmetic) I want him to know that I care and am trying to support him to build stability and peace. But it's hard when you feel that what he really needs is a leg up... financially and in community support... and he's not making consistent decisions.
Then there was the woman I saw yesterday, who may have been sterilized by a doctor in Egypt while he was performing surgery on her, and the man who was beaten by security guards outside one of the UNHCR implementing partners the other week. These kinds of injustices are all that much more unbearable when you realize the history of rights violations these people have already endured, and the little freedoms that may be theirs as they continue their lives here. There is a whole gantlet of frustrating bureaucracy to navigate, and often it feels like people have nowhere to go with their complaints. Thus, a significant part of AMERA’s mandate is listening to people and helping them figure out how to deal with their frustrations… be it to the police for violations of property or personhood, UNHCR for legal mistakes in the refugee status determination process or UNHCR implementing partners for problems accessing the limited education, health or social services (eg. financial needs or skills trainings) available to them. Unfortunately while we are hypothetically operating within a rights-based framework, the reality of service provision is often very far from this.
But there are also people like the woman I met on Sunday. Her husband recently died leaving her with four small children. When we first met she was uncommunicative, tearful, withdrawn and in desperate need of financial assistance. We were able to clarify the terms of her financial assistance with the UNHCR implementing partner, and help her access it from the appropriate bank. When I saw her three days later she was a completely different woman – smiling, making eye contact, sporting a beautiful red dress and willing to tell me a little about her children. There are definite breakthroughs, moments of celebration.
There are days when you feel a little like a ragman... (a character from a beloved childhood story who wandered the streets trading people's old rags for his new ones, and who picked up their burdens as he took their old rags). There are other days when you wish to be a ragman... you wish to take their burdens on your shoulders, but there is little you can do to address their suffering or challenging circumstances apart from listen. And yet, through all the intensity of these listenful conversations there is an incredible network of colleagues to turn to for support – both in addressing the legal and protection issues refugees face, and in sharing the frustrations and joys of our lives and the lives of our clients. There are also amazing souls at partner organizations who are motivated by similar convictions and who have such dedication to their work. It is an inspiration to connect with and learn from them.
Through AMERA I am being challenged to remain empathetic without becoming burned out, and hopeful while critical of the problems in the system so that we can engage these problems constructively with those who have power to change the system. At the same time that we commit to working for change we must maintain broader perspective... in the words of Erich Fromm "to be ready at every moment for that which is not yet born, and yet not become desperate if there is no birth in our lifetime." (Perhaps a lifetime is a bit long for me to embrace yet, but certainly the next four months in Cairo!!).
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