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!!).