UN's World Refugee Day: Privilege and Culture

“I’ve met so many who have lost so much. But they never lose their dreams for their children or their desire to better our world. They ask for little in return – only our support in their time of greatest need.” – UN Secretary-General, Antonio Guterres

Yesterday, June 20^th, we celebrated United Nation’s World Refugee Day, a day to “commemorate the strength, courage, and perseverance of millions of refugees.” Drissa, a migrant from Mali, invited us to the city of San Vito dei Normanni to partake in the celebration of this day. We shared mixed plates of traditional African and Middle Eastern food.

Several men worked on a mural that quotes Beyonce's song "I Was Here"

While savoring my couscous and vegetables, I met Eusol, who is from Burkina Faso and currently resides at the CARA in Restinco. His smile, laugh, and spirit was contagious, as we joked about how much patience one must have while learning a new language; we agreed to speak slowly to one another.

Together, we watched a performance by some of the men of San Vito. Nine men showed us their unbreakable perseverance and heart through the theatrical performance of a migrant’s story, which was translated in both Italian and French. There were moments that initially left me confused, like when Eusol could not stop laughing while one man on stage did an impersonation of a police officer, aggressively patting the men down and checking every pocket and under the cusp of each pant leg. Eusol leaned over to me, grinning and chuckling, and said “that’s exactly what the police in Libya do!” He had found the light – the light that is needed in times of darkness and complete desolation. This is not to discredit any of the terror or trauma that these men have gone through; I know that I will never understand this. However, I found it beautiful that Eusol could look back on this part of his journey to Italy and smile.

At other times during the theatrical performance, there were no smiles, giggles, or cheering. Eight men on stage demonstrated the swaying and beating of the currents for when they traveled by boat. The waves grew larger and stronger, and they beat on the backs of the men, forcing them to fall to the ground and leaving them lifeless. This scene brought tears to my eyes, despite the language barrier. Language is no longer an invisible barrier or obstacle when you speak through such strong emotion.

After this performance, I began to think more about my first experience at CARA. That day, I could not fully digest what I bore witness to and did not know how to or if I should add it to my last blog post. The problem at the forefront of my mind was my privilege.

We traded our passports for visitor passes and returned them at the end of the day. While we stood at the front desk, I looked to my right to see a line of 10+ men behind a gated door. I was waiting for my passport, which gives me the freedom to travel without restraint; all of them were waiting to be given permission to leave the center for the day. None of them had passports, only an identification card from the CARA. Each of them was given a detailed pat down, and now I could see the similarity from the theatrical performance; however, this time, no one was laughing.

Two other moments when our privilege felt immensely apparent was (1) when we were repeatedly offered un café by the Vicenzo, the director of the center, and (2) when we were waiting for lunch at the CARA.

After Vicenzo asked us a third time if we would like anything to drink, we said ‘yes.’ Vicenzo admitted that he would keep offering us something until he died; this hospitality is part of the Italian culture. Sometimes, you must say yes. He slid the coins in the slot of the coffee machine and waited. Next to me, there was a line of men waiting to be called to a desk to receive food and snacks for the day. Guilt seeped into my bones.

Later that day, a small delivery truck came through the brown gate, delivering us women focaccia. When the truck pulled up, I leaned over to Alessandra and admitted that I hoped we would not be served separate from the men every day. We needed to show a sense of humility in order to form a relationship with these men. I wanted to sit next to them in the mensa and eat the food that they were served. I did not want special treatment. Fortunately, I learned that we would begin eating in the mensa on Friday.

Later in the day, I remembered something that Drissa told me. The strongest thing about his African roots is his culture and hospitality. If he was eating with friends and saw a stranger walking the streets of the village, he would immediately approach the stranger and offer him or her a seat at the table. The spirit of hospitality is always strong.

A difficult lesson is learning to not deny ourselves of this gracious hospitality, for that would mean we are denouncing and denying their culture. Although I want to walk the path of humility during this time, I have learned that humility can take multiple forms. It is not a challenge to my privilege but an acceptance of their culture. Most importantly, we are here to open doors with humility, not close them out of ignorance.

With this humility and hospitality, I am grateful to celebrate World Refugee Day with such resilient men and women.

I will close this reflection of the United Nation’s World Refugee Day with my two favorite videos from last night: one of humble gratitude and a second of joyous thanks for the evening’s celebration.

“When you wake up in the morning, son, give thanks to the god who gives you light. Sing. Sing. Sing.”

A dopo,

the chameleon