I've never visited a refugee camp.
Oh wait... I think maybe I have.
Mario is living his life. Doing his best. Just being Mario. Then
something happens. Doesn't matter what, exactly: war, natural disaster,
plague, famine, (mental illness, family breakdown, corporate or personal
greed)... And he's knocked loose. Out into the world where nobody knows
Mario, or who he is, or what he does. Nobody knows his story, or his
skills, or his heart.
They only see one more face through the window or the fence. (One more hand held out empty.) One more pair of feet standing in line. (One more person you don't want to stand downwind of, or in a small room with poor ventilation.) One more stranger sitting in a plastic chair on the other side of a desk, needing help to fill in the forms so they can ask for shelter.
One more travelling and living with only what he can carry. What he was able to round up and prioritize before the door slammed behind him (with the keys on the other side). Mario finds himself part of a community where he is surrounded by others struggling with the same insecurity, with the trauma of suddenly being without all of the stability they should be able to count on. So yeah, Mario and his new neighbours steal stuff. (Propane so they can cook and stay warm. Bikes so they can get to appointments and the foodbank. Scrap metal they can sell for a bit of cash. Backpacks. My own personal backpack, btw. T-shirts. Food.)
They only see one more face through the window or the fence. (One more hand held out empty.) One more pair of feet standing in line. (One more person you don't want to stand downwind of, or in a small room with poor ventilation.) One more stranger sitting in a plastic chair on the other side of a desk, needing help to fill in the forms so they can ask for shelter.
One more travelling and living with only what he can carry. What he was able to round up and prioritize before the door slammed behind him (with the keys on the other side). Mario finds himself part of a community where he is surrounded by others struggling with the same insecurity, with the trauma of suddenly being without all of the stability they should be able to count on. So yeah, Mario and his new neighbours steal stuff. (Propane so they can cook and stay warm. Bikes so they can get to appointments and the foodbank. Scrap metal they can sell for a bit of cash. Backpacks. My own personal backpack, btw. T-shirts. Food.)
There are a few refugees who travel to distant places to start again.
Those few generally have a lot of help waiting for them when they
arrive. I'm so very happy to know that people in my own town and church family do the work of 'sponsoring' refugees. But the vast majority stay as
close as they can to what was home. In the hopes of going back one day.
(Statistical studies bear out that the predominant majority of homeless people are homeless in the municipality in which they were most recently housed.) Because
that is where they have been known. Those are the streets they can name.
(That's the high school they attended. That's the hospital where they
had their appendix out.) That is where they speak the language.
If I ever decide to pursue a PhD (*not gonna happen*) I think I'll write my thesis on "The Parallels Between Homelessness and the Refugee Experience."
If I ever decide to pursue a PhD (*not gonna happen*) I think I'll write my thesis on "The Parallels Between Homelessness and the Refugee Experience."
Shouldn't the response be the same?
Oh wait... Maybe it is.
In my own town right now, to my shame, there are plans in place for a 'peaceful protest' (the posters encourage 'protesters' bring their own airhorns and megaphones) over two days. The 'peaceful protest' intends to spend 6 hours on each of two consecutive days marching up and down the sidewalk... not in front of town hall, not in front of the MP's or MPP's office, not in front of the corporate headquarters of a housing construction company... but in front of the last ditch, desperate home of my friends who are, in every true sense of the word, refugees.
The event poster claims that the Camp is populated by "Thiefs" (sic). They say they want to "take back their safe town." (Apparently there was no crime, vandalism, or drug use before the Camp. Seriously? Do none of these people remember high school?)
Would these upstanding citizens be picketing and air-horning and harassing and vilifying a refugee camp?
Who am I kidding. Probably. Because, to be as fair as I am able to be, people do stupid shit when they're afraid. And nothing scares people like other people who are just like me but a little bit different.
In my own town right now, to my shame, there are plans in place for a 'peaceful protest' (the posters encourage 'protesters' bring their own airhorns and megaphones) over two days. The 'peaceful protest' intends to spend 6 hours on each of two consecutive days marching up and down the sidewalk... not in front of town hall, not in front of the MP's or MPP's office, not in front of the corporate headquarters of a housing construction company... but in front of the last ditch, desperate home of my friends who are, in every true sense of the word, refugees.
The event poster claims that the Camp is populated by "Thiefs" (sic). They say they want to "take back their safe town." (Apparently there was no crime, vandalism, or drug use before the Camp. Seriously? Do none of these people remember high school?)
Would these upstanding citizens be picketing and air-horning and harassing and vilifying a refugee camp?
Who am I kidding. Probably. Because, to be as fair as I am able to be, people do stupid shit when they're afraid. And nothing scares people like other people who are just like me but a little bit different.
People I could have been with a bit of bad luck.
I'm rambling now. Should probably stop writing before I say something that's really not... Baptist.
To conclude:
I'm rambling now. Should probably stop writing before I say something that's really not... Baptist.
To conclude:
If you are one who walks into the refugee camp with a smile on your face
and a hug ready to launch, God bless you!
If you have nothing better to do on a summer weekend than torment people who are already struggling and traumatized, people who have absolutely no power to 'go home' or resources to resolve the housing crisis... God bless you with better sense.
If you have nothing better to do on a summer weekend than torment people who are already struggling and traumatized, people who have absolutely no power to 'go home' or resources to resolve the housing crisis... God bless you with better sense.
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