If there was real justice, we wouldn’t be refugees...
And the stories only mine to live and die with
And the answers only mine to come across
But the ghost that I got scared and I got high with
Look a little lost
– Jason Isbell, lyrics from Different Days
She showed me her bead work and handed me a clear tangled fishing line. She mimed to me that she wanted me to untangle the fishing line for her. As she handed me the plastic line, I found the end and started to work on it. The JRS education coordinator explained that we had to leave. I handed it back to her and as she pulled from the end that I loosened, the knots became tighter and tighter. In a brief moment, staring at her weathered hands, I found myself lost. Lost in my thoughts.
I had just spent the majority of the morning with Nyamawe, a JRS education coordinator. We talked with folks in all 4 sections of Kakuma. As I met with each person, my purpose for being in Kakuma got more tangled and tangled. I was overwhelmed with the need and my inability to do anything about it. As I attempted to reel my thoughts back in, my nauseated feeling made a brief appearance for the 6th time that day. That night, I had thrown up, as well as, in the morning. Two hours of sleep under my belt due to the heat and living near a bar that played booming music until 2AM. I was attempting to hold it together. Albeit, it was not a pretty sight.
As my body resisted to be acclimated to the dust-filled air, unrelenting heat (100+ degree) and limited running water, my body longed for an iced bath, cold mojito, and to feel clean. Instead, it was as if I was a lobster being thrown in boiling water. There was no way out, nor any respite and yet, I continued to boil. I reminded myself, I made this choice. And well, the people I have met have no choice.
Just a little background, in the Kakuma News Reflector–A Refugee Free Press (KANERE), education section, Aznato (2016) wrote,
After I enrolled in Addis Ababa University, Ethiopia, for my first year, first semester degree program, I went to the university library periodicals sections to read some journals. As I was reading the New African magazine, I glimpsed the word “Refugee” and not knowing the meaning, I took the advanced learner’s dictionary and looked it up. I read the definitions that are now used by the UNHCR as a standard for determining refugee status. At that moment, I never thought I myself would become a refugee one day in my life.
The following year for two or three reasons included in those definitions I read in the dictionary, I found myself on the Kenyan side of Moyale, a border town, to be called a refugee. Today, I don’t only have a memory of learning the word but also I lived as a refugee for two decades, “refugee” being my “identity” (para. 4-5).
The identity Aznato was referencing was the definition of refugee. It is defined by the United Nations 1951 Refugee Convention Act that defines, “A refugee, according to the Convention, is someone who is unable or unwilling to return to their country of origin owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion” (UNHCR, 1951, p. 5). The US Refugee Act of 1980 amended the Immigration and Nationality Act of 1962 that revised and standardized the process to resettle all refugees admitted to the United States (E. Kennedy, 1980). Zong and Batalova (2015) explained, “in fiscal year (FY) 2015, the United States resettled 69,933 refugees” (para. 1).
Due to protracted conflict areas like Syria, South Sudan, Afghanistan, among others, are forcing an unprecedented 65.3 million persons (UNHCR, 2016) to flee danger, persecution, and/or natural disaster. All of them are displaced (e.g., refugees, asylum-seekers, internally displaced persons) and half are children and youth. Unlike the mainstream media portrays, the majority of refugees are supported by developing countries in the Global South. Although we hear about the “European migration crisis,” the mainstream media should focus on Jordan, Turkey, Lebanon, and Kenya who are protecting millions and millions refugees. If you want more information check out http://www.unhcr.org/news/latest/20....
The Kakuma Refugee Camp (KRC) was started in 1992 and is situated in the northwestern region of Kenya. It is the second largest refugee camp in Kenya. Boru (2013) explains, Kakuma, means “nowhere” in Swahili (para. 3). KRC refugees and asylum-seekers are from “South Sudan (84,427), Somalia (40,899), Ethiopia (5,585), DRC (9,356), Sudan (9,291), Burundi (5,650), Uganda (1,076), Rwanda (521), Eritrea (68), and other (59) (UNHCR, 2016b). UNICEF (2016) noted that the “influx of refugees from South Sudan continues, with 46,235 new arrivals recorded/registered (67% children) as of 25 June 2015” (p. 2).
KRC, historically has had a large population of youth, due to the influx of unaccompanied minors, mostly young Sudanese males fleeing decade long conflicts. Sungu (2016) explains, “about 58% are minors” in Kakuma (para. 4). Sungu (2016) notes that Kakuma refugee camp’s educational opportunities are inadequate both for primary, secondary, and vocational. In the report, there is no mention of tertiary education. Sungu (2016) does offer some conclusions in what may happen with the “deprivation of opportunities,” in that they “can perpetuate conflicts when frustrated youth decide to join violent militias, as could be seen with Afghans who grew up in Pakistani refugee camps and were later recruited by the Taliban” (para. 4). Some organizations in Kakuma, such as JRS and Jesuit Worldwide Learning (JWL) are attempting to deter youth to join extremist groups by placing higher education at the forefront of young adult’s lives, however the obstacles to create, implement, certify, and sustain Higher Education in protracted context are broad and complicated.
Reading off statistics is far different than meeting the people who are the statistics, for they each have stories of resilience, struggle, ingenuity, survival, and believe it or not hope. Hope for a better future. I sat in the JRS air conditioned office and gained my footing again. The nauseated feeling subsided and I met with JWL students and started my recruitment for my study. I wanted about 8 students to be trained in my psychosocial peace building education course. 19 students volunteered. I hadn’t anticipated in reading all the questions in the survey but several students wanted me to go through them. So we read through the questions and in that space we also had an interesting conversation about what was personal freedom, how do we create a just world, and if there was real justice, they would not be refugees. I facilitated the discussion and they respectfully debated about all the questions that were asked. And I felt more alive than I have for years. The JRS staff remarked afterward that he didn't realize they could have a discussion like that. I said, if we create spaces for these conversations, they will happen.
I offered no incentive which is unusual in KRC. I have mixed feelings about incentives. I get it and understand why non-governmental and governmental agencies do it, but I also wonder if we are complicit in perpetuating a cycle of dependency. In my past projects, I have never paid or given incentives, however I have never been in a setting such as this. I decided to see what would happen if I didn’t give the usual incentive, yet I attempted to show that skills were just as good as the usual incentive. I just said to them, this is an opportunity to gain skills and knowledge in how to facilitate peace building conversations using the arts, literacy, and play. This is your choice. You do not have to participate and can stop anytime you want. One student chimed in and asked if I was giving them a certificate of completion or incentive? I said, no. Another student said, No, she is giving us tools. Another student said, she is giving us knowledge which is better. Honestly, I am not sure what I am giving, but I do know I am learning more about the world I want to see, a just and hopeful world. I want students in Kakuma to lead the way in their home countries, in their resettled countries, and in Kakuma.
Much gratitude to those who are reading these notes.
