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.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
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!!).
Forced migration or an extended safari...
a photo's worth a thousand words?!
What's your favourite caption for this? It's been widely circulated among friends here with the title "Obama's Relatives"...
What's your favourite caption for this? It's been widely circulated among friends here with the title "Obama's Relatives"...
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