June 20 is World Refugee Day.

Hundreds of thousands Uzbek refugees need clothes and water after fleeing violence in which 171 people have died in Kyrgysztan (Guardian.co.uk).

"You can take away my home but you can't take away my future. (Theme 2010)"

The 1951 Refugee Convention establishing UNHCR spells out that a refugee is someone who "owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality, and is unable to, or owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that country."

There were 43.3 million forcibly displaced people worldwide at the end of 2009.

Of these, 15.2 million were refugees, asylum-seekers and 27.1 million internally displaced persons.

10.4 million of these are under UNHCR protection. (UNHCR, 2009 Global Trends)

These Internationally ordained days of awareness; such as World Womens day, day of the African child and Day of the Refugee are helpful ways of having a collective discussion of underrepresented persons. It is a fantastic opportunity to initiate dialogue in ones community. I especially think its a helpful way for teachers to incorporate issues of social justice into learning. For example, surrounding this day, teachers could have the students engage in few personal, written or historical accounts of stateless persons. After a class discussion and sharing around ideas of citizenry, ethnicity and human rights students could write their own stories, poems or drawings that reflect the notion of statelessness. It is of great historic import that we begin to broaden ideas of belonging in order to fit the increasing millions of people that are forced or choose to migrate. As our environmental systems continue in the direction of demise there will be increasing numbers of people fleeing their homelands. All of these aspects must be apprised across the lands.

Refugees too should be given the opportunity to tell their own stories. I have found self-narrative and, creative writing and poetry a powerful way of teaching English as a Second Language to refugee clients. Whether it is the story of the flight from their country of origin, or just a life account it is important to give every person a sense and right to Voice, and being heard. Storytelling also builds community.

Even when people are resettled, repatriate or are re-naturalized the journey of perseverance does not cease. The rebuilding and cultural detachment, grim realities of come of resettlement dreams. But despite challenge, making decisions everyday in order to give family a chance a new life and a brighter future.

We can do things too. These are just a few organizations that help refugees in their process of seeking protection to rebuilding lives :

The International Rescue Committee

Refugee Council, USA

Human Rights First

UNHCR

Do donate to The KYRGYZSTAN & UZBEKISTAN crisis by clicking here.

We Could be doing more for the displaced among us.

World Society perspective in Schools?

“The international system of peoples and states is characterized by such extensive interdependencies and the historical crisscrossing of fates and fortunes that the scope of special as well as generalized moral obligations to our fellow human beings far transcends the perspective of the territorially bounded state-centric system… I shall defend the perspective of a world society as the correct vantage point from which to reason about obligations across borders.”
(Seyla Benhabib ‘The Rights of Others; Aliens, residents and citizens.’)

Benhabib takes an important stand in political theory in the modern age, in which notions of state and citizenship are undergoing transformation and disaggregation. In an era when unprecedented numbers of people are moving, or being displaced the needs of migrants and the murky waters of Nationalism are issues of paramount importance.

Refugee camps and transit centers provide important insight into ‘The rights of others,’ the dismal reality of life with an obscured sense of citizenry. What is our moral obligation to education? As I have made mention, the camps that I encountered in western Tanzania have operated National education programs; Congolese curriculum and exams in the Congolese camp, and Burundian curriculum (when education was still active in the Burundian camp) respectively. This is supposed to give the country’s nationals a sense of belonging, and an institutionalized recognition upon their pending return. So, although the community initiates much of the education informally, the systems eventually put in place are national, operated from inside the borders of the countries they left.

Here is a perfect example of how far we have to go before transcending state-centrism; Schools still operate as an instrument for nationalist ideals, while humans themselves exist far outside straightforward ideas of territory and selfhood. When will schools begin to demonstrate the scope of human experience? When will notions of selfhood and the community be integrated into curriculum? As people continue to move and are increasingly displaced we will be asked to face these questions.

It is also important to recognize that countries of conflict or civil war may not have a reliable education system, or more often, schools are used as training grounds for the next soldiers, or compatriots of insurgent forces. Therefore, we must ask ourselves, what is the appropriate curriculum for pupils who exist outside the Nation?
I am an advocate of the development of Place-based education. As always, the reoccurring issue of evaluation, and popularity of the National exam prevents this from being easily established.

Roots and Shoots on the Ground

-The Jane Goodall institute in Kigoma also has a division that promotes HIV education and family planning. UKIMWI is the Swahili word for HIV/AIDS.

The Jane Goodall Institute has also founded numerous education and conservation initiatives that have greatly evolved in the last twenty years. Roots and Shoots clubs were launched in Dar Es Salaam and Kigoma as educational motivation that advanced care and concern for animals, the environment and the human community. Now roots and shoots is active in over 100 countries.

It mostly works with school children, who are facilitated by a peer or teacher volunteer to root-out a club vision that is relevant to their community. They select their own leadership amongst themselves, including the role of an investigative journalist who will track their work and the state of affairs in their community. Then the children become advocates for their vision, for educating others and for building a sense of responsibility for their environment and its people.

I have already written of this initiative a few times now, but will continue to emphasize my support. When people, especially children are called forth to participate in decision making it is much more likely that the initiative will be effective. I will later expound upon this notion of participatory assessment and its particular importance for disadvantaged communities. Refugees, for example, must be allowed to participate in the decisions, findings and protection of their unique communities. Especially women, otherwise they will likely be exploited.
Roots and Shoots were previously working with children in one of the camps that was recently closed. And although the refugees who were consolidated into new camps are no longer in contact with an official structured club, because the program was 'student run' some students continue to share their knowledge. He showed me drawings from students who once learned about health and the environment through the roots and shoots program, and who still promote the information they were entrusted.



Here are a few examples of their work/social messages from letters they sent to the Program manager, their friend:

- Don't just cut trees, plant them.


- Hunting/poaching is not sustainable. Raising your own animals is.


- Don't go to the bathroom outside where your waste will contaminate the environment you live from. Build a proper long-drop instead.

Kasulu

People prepared me for my journey to Kasulu. ‘Oooh, it is very dusty there!’ they warned, as though I was mad for making the journey. But this particular destination has been calling me since I first met Burundian families at the IRC (International Rescue Committee) who described the settlements where Grandmothers raised two generations before leaving. Those camps are closed now, the 1972 Burundians have repatriated, resettled or been integrated as citizens throughout Tanzania. Only two camps remain in the region that once hosted ten. Slowly slowly the government is closing asylum space, ceasing almost all services in one of the camps and urging for voluntary repatriation. Yet, between the two camps there are almost 100,000 Congolese and Burundians that linger still amidst two worlds.

I get on the dala dala after an hour of waiting while young hustlers fill the small van to its utmost. Once we finally set off I realize that there are at least (that I can see from my spot in the back) 25 people in the van; 5 infants, 6 school children, 4 young women (including myself) 4 mothers, 3 grandmothers, one boy, one man and one driver. We speed along a dirt road with dust as fine as flour and red as blood, it enters the windows like smoke. Luckily, the women have warned me and I have covered my face and hair in a wrap, only my sunglasses exposed. I can hardly see the landscape through the dust, but every so often we stop to let someone out – they are returning home to a place that seems like nowhere.

Three hours later we are in Kasulu and I get a motorcycle lift to the UNHCR (United Nations High Commission for Refugees) where my host greets me. Susan is an Iranian/Dutch lawyer who loves her job. I only met her last weekend and already she has taught me a great deal about Refugee Rights and the politics, joys and trials of working in the field. That night we have a late dinner with a woman from the IRC and I am all ears, and questions.

I am awestruck by the ubiquitous nature of the IRC woman’s beauty. She was raised in India, by her English mother and Japanese-American father – I begin to notice a theme concerning place, or placelessness amidst people here. When she finds out that I am interested in education at the camps she exclaims with passion,
– Well have you Heard the situation? !
I have heard so many different things in the past week that I am not sure what situation she is referring to.
– There haven’t been any education programs in Mtabila camp for over a year!
I have heard this and I’m very glad she is bringing it up. Mtabila is the Burundian camp. In hope to accelerate ‘voluntary’ repatriation, the government of Tanzania has been nonchalantly bringing services to a close. Approximately 35,000 people live in the Mtabila camp and it is probable that nearly half of them are children. First they closed the Secondary schools, not long after they closed all primary schools. What happens when children have nowhere to be? Let your imagination go wild.

The NGOs that work in Kasulu cannot dissent the government, but can only deliberate until some resolution is made. Only now, a year later have the education responsibilities been handed over to the IRC – who is permitted to facilitate informal education – that is, games. Yes, organized play will at least gather the children together, accounting for them, providing a basic need, their right to protection. The hope is to integrate informal education and empowerment through the games, and soon injecting numeracy and basic literacy.

This is all happening now. As well as a hand over from one NGO to another of the responsibilities related to education. Unfortunately the politics and pedantic bureaucracy in place will prevent me from visiting the camps themselves. I do not feel downcast, as there are some local volunteers and UNHCR family members who have been here for months without ever entering. Instead I meet with and talk to people who have committed their lives to the situation, people who have found their place amidst the placeless. Instead I walk around and talk to children in the area, their faces and hair reddened with the dust of Kasulu.

What is the What

Do you know what the What is?

I’m still not quite sure, but Dave Eggers book, ‘What is the What’ is one of the most illuminating accounts of one boys life I have ever read. Achek Valentino Deng is a Sudanese ‘Lost boy’ who spends most of his childhood running from conflict, and all of his adolescence in refugee camps in Ethiopia and Kenya. Eggers based the book from Achek’s unimaginable true story that represents the constant battle of so many boys whose childhood was robbed in the face of civil war and whose resettlement in America only presented a whole new set of challenges.

If you haven’t already, read it.

For Achek and so many others, education becomes the one salvation from the toils of the camp and the nightmares of the past. He is schooled in camp and his success and enthusiasm gives him further opportunities, such as joining a theatre troupe. To me, this is one example of a fun, informative and informal teaching model. You take a group of interested youth leaders, outgoing and/or willing to be empowered. You then take relevant issues that are greatly affecting the community; such as, arranged marriage, HIV/AIDS, traditional medicine, rape, poaching –
Then, you write a potent theatre piece about one of these topics. The youth present it to their community, reaching everyone from youth, to elders, and the illiterate.
I am an advocate of theatre for social change. It was this theatre troupe that first took Achek Deng and his compatriots outside of the Kakuma refugee camp walls to Nairobi for a drama competition. It was the first time they had left the barren land of their camp since their arrival more than seven years before. It changed them forever to have the opportunity to share, to be listened to. These are the sorts of programs that really give voice to the disadvantaged. Storytelling, one of our oldest traditions, must continue to be drawn on as a tool for educating.

I am grateful to Achek Vaentino Deng for telling his story, for making his existence and the plight of his people known. And I am beholden by Dave Eggers capacity to write.

A Promise

The Sun sets on Lake Tanganyika, sinking behind the mountains of the D.R.C.

The Ahadi (promise) Institute is located within the Newman Institute of Social Work; the only higher education center in the region. It is a very small institution, graduating about 16 students a year. The lovely Ahadi director, Edison, has been doing work with refugees since 1998. I will not go into great detail here about the origin of conflict that brought refugees from Burundi, Congo and Rwanda, but I will give a brief timeframe. The first camp was raised in 1972, for Burundians that fled ethnic conflict. This camp is separate from the others, and has been treated differently considering that two generations would be born inside the camp. In 2008 the Burundians were finally given a choice. Either they could become citizens, or voluntarily repatriate. The Tanzanian government naturalized about 160,000 Burundians, approximately 20,000 returned home and thousands more were resettled.
The other 9 camps followed in the wake of further conflict in Burundi, beginning in 1993, when the President died, through 1996. There were a smaller number of Rwandan refugees that arrived during the 1994 genocide, which were swiftly repatriated the next year. And, beginning in 1996, the Congolese camps were built.

It was in 1996 that the Ahadi institute was involved in initiating groups that would bring youth together, to protect, and in order to avoid delinquency. At first this was community-based, run by refugee volunteers, without solid structure in place. Then, it was decided that education should be based on the National systems of the people in mind. Thus, negotiations were made between the camps and the Ministers of Education in Congo and Burundi. They believed that National programs and pedagogy should be employed in camps in order to advance the youth and prepare them for reintegration into their countries of origin. The development of structured schools would also keep students engaged, rather than idle or exploited for labor. Proper books and exams were procured from the countries. Then teachers were identified from within the camp.

Teacher’s qualifications were assessed and then teacher training and examinations followed in order to ensure high standards. Then, a number of primary and secondary schools were built in the camps, with names like ‘Kilimanjaro Primary,’ showing all signs of conventional schools except that they were deterritorialized from their country. During exam periods representatives from the countries come and supervise, and to those who pass, a very formal certificate is bestowed on the student in order to ensure credit upon repatriation. People really value certificates here.
When students began completing secondary school the ‘Institute Superior Pedagogique (ISP)’ was started in order to occupy people and feed hungry minds. It provides higher education through distance learning. There have been many refugees who have written their dissertation from within camps, often focusing on issues that they are encounter every day – like the frequency of rape and its effects on women. I didn’t ask about the ratio of men and women in these programs, but it is my guess that most who reach the ISP level are men. The programs available focus on the socio-economic development of the region. ‘Managers, lawyers, economists, social workers, and teachers are all required to generate a well-functioning and prosperous society,’ the director emphasizes, pointing to a brochure.

This program could be reputed as ‘community-based’ as it has also established community centers in Burundi and Congo for students whose studies might be interrupted by repatriation. The degrees are launched and developed according to the needs and possibilities of the local environment and maintain focus on sustainable development and peace studies. It is my feeling that the program is highly encouraging, yet exists with insubstantial reach. Today there are only 2 camps left in Tanzania, one Congolese and one Burundian. The latter’s services, including all education programs, were discontinued by the Tanzanian government in Spring of 2009. Their ‘promise’ has been broken.

A poem, by Li-Young Lee

Self Help for Refugees
If your name suggests a country where bells might have been used for entertainment
or to announce the entrances and exits of the seasonsor the birthdays of gods and demons,
it’s probably best to dress in plain clothes when you arrive in the United States, and try not to talk too loud.
If you happen to have watched armed men beat and drag your father out the front door of your house and into the back of an idling truck
before your mother jerked you from the threshold and buried your face in her skirt folds, try not to judge your mother too harshly.
Don’t ask her what she thought she was doing turning a child’s eyes away from history and toward that place all human aching starts.
And if you meet someone in your adopted country, and think you see in the other’s face an open sky, some promise of a new beginning, it probably means you’re standing too far.
* *
Or if you think you read in the other, as in a book whose first and last pages are missing, the story of your own birthplace, a country twice erased, once by fire, once by forgetfulness, it probably means you’re standing too close.
In any case, try not to let another carry the burden of your own nostalgia or hope.
And if you’re one of those whose left side of the face doesn’t match the right, it might be a clue
looking the other way was a habit your predecessors found useful for survival. Don’t lament not being beautiful.
Get used to seeing while not seeing. Get busy remembering while forgetting. Dying to live while not wanting to go on.
Very likely, your ancestors decorated their bells of every shape and size with elaborate calendars and diagrams of distance star systems, but with no maps for scattered descendants.
* *
And I bet you can’t say what language your father spoke when he shouted to your mother from the back of the truck, "Let the boy see!"
Maybe it wasn’t the language you used at home. Maybe it was a forbidden language. Or maybe there was too much screaming and weeping and the noise of guns in the streets.
It doesn’t matter. What matters is this: The kingdom of heaven is good. But heaven on earth is better.
Thinking is good. But living is better.
Alone in your favorite chair with a book you enjoy is fine. But spooning is even better.
*You can listen to this yourself by the author himself, here

"The Rights of Others"

Click on image to discover a socially active artists' blog.

"The declaration of Human Rights (1948) recognizes the right to freedom of movement across boundaries: a right to emigrate - that is to leave a country - but not a right to immigrate - a right to enter a country (Art.13). (Benhabib, "The Rights of Others)"

"The Rights of Others" is an important book about global justice, notions of porous borders, and ideas of citizenship and freedom.