These corridors are dark.
They aren’t filled with much hope.
Dreams often feel crushed and unreachable.
Everyday life is uncomfortable.
There are so many things to tell yall about. I am going to start with the harder stuff but it will get better so bear with me until the next refugee blog after this one.
I could talk about how I met a mom and her three teenage kids that have been on the move for 2 years since her husband got kidnapped by the Taliban, so she took the kids and fled for safety.
Or the mom that asked me for clean water to give her 7-month old son an adequate bath.
Or the endless requests to fix phones that border police smashed for no reason except for the power trip they have; so not only are the refugees in the most uncomfortable situation they have ever been in their lives away from home, but now they can’t even call family and friends for a minute of normalcy/a minute of comfort/ a minute to forget the reality around them. I mean come on, they are humans for pete’s sake!
Or how the fight broke out between an Iraqi and Pakistani because putting a bunch of refugees in tight quarters, all from different nationalities that don’t normally get along, causes tensions.
Or about the woman who asked me for medication because she had a uti and no way to get meds (when your troubles grow in size, like fleeing your country, the smaller life struggles don’t just disappear).
Or about the man my teammates talked to who told them just a couple nights ago there was a stabbing and that being a Christian in here puts a target on your back.
Or about the hatred that forced a newly married couple to leave home because they were not supposed to marry because they are from two different religious sects.
Or the woman who told me about how the Taliban threatened her and her husband’s life because they worked in the government; how they lost their four-year old baby to a bomb explosion; have left their family, their beautiful house, and everything stable they have ever known out of fear for their lives.
Or the guy I had to stare in the face and say I won’t marry you but as the word “no” is coming out of my mouth, my heart is wondering what is worse? Illegally marrying someone, not out of love, but to get them out of the awful reality they are living OR letting them suffer for the fourth year in a seemingly hopeless quest to get to somewhere that will grant asylum.
Or how I saw people scooping water out of their tents because it won’t stop raining.
Or how people pee on the 3rd floor of the dilapidated building and it runs down onto the people and bedding of the 2nd floor.
Or how many people I saw wearing beaten up shoes with holes and shoes that were too small and grown men wearing women’s shoes. They have barely anything. These shoes are not adequate for walking miles and miles a day, which the majority of them have done and will continue to do.
Or how a family on the run has a daughter who is beating leukemia.
Or the requests for umbrellas to walk across the field and use the restroom without getting wet; because if they get one of their few sets of clothes wet then they have to hang it up to dry – but there are few places to hang things out especially when it’s been rainy and wet for weeks.
These people aren’t being treated like they are worth something.
Basic human needs aren’t being met.
They aren’t fleeing because they want to; they are fleeing because they have to.
And the road to do that is rough.
To be continued…
TTFN,
Jenny
