There were tears in his eyes. As he talked about his family, a great pain that reached the depths of his soul sat deep within an untouchable place of his heart.
“How long have you been separated from your family?” I asked.
In his native tongue, he answered with a longing look. “Five years.”
I sat and listened to the story of this Iranian refugee. His family has been in another refugee camp in Australia, so close yet so far away. I learned a plane to Australia is just tw0o and a half hours from Indonesia. Five years, this man has not seen his wife or his three children. Five years, his family grows without him. Five years lost. Sadly, I met at least 4 more stories similar to this man. The only hope anyone has is to be sponsored by someone to buy their plane ticket and reunite them with their family.
When refugees come to Indonesia, they are stuck. Many are smuggled out of Iran and Afghanistan, leaving the strife caused by the Taliban. Some have even come face to face with the Taliban and the havoc that they wreak. There are no answers for people that come here. Refugees are not allowed to work, nor are they allowed to leave unless they have the money. Many come here in hopes of going to Australia, Canada, or the United States, but right now their only hope seems to be Canada. These three countries allow these people to work and restart their life. Many Southeast Asian countries do not treat refugees like people, but rather like a nuisance. The depth of pain in the eyes of the people as they told me their stories this week are indescribable. I met friends that were in the film industry in Iran, or those that worked closely with Americans, or those that taught English in Afghanistan. They are intelligent, they work hard, and they were once great in their trade. Then, all of a sudden they fled for their lives.
It opens up many questions in my mind. These are people, who often get labeled “refugees.” These are real people that we are closing our hearts and our borders on. Now that I have come face to face with them and shared conversations and stories, my heart breaks. I understand that the economy can fluctuate in our country with too many refugees. I know there are pros and cons to opening and closing our borders, but I also saw something completely different this week. I saw people like me that are stuck with no money for food to feed their big families, nothing to do because they cannot have jobs, and many with no families at all because they have been separated for several years. Their only hope in life is to reunite with those so close to their hearts.
I continued in conversation with my new Iranian friend. All of a sudden, his eyes were pink and red, filled with tears. Our conversation became a heated discussion.
“People like you come in and nothing changes for us. Why are you here? You only come and your government doesn’t change anything.” His body language showed me every bit of sadness and righteous anger that filled his heart.
“Sadly, I am not able to get to the government. I have no power or authority, no way to tell them. I can tell my friends and family, I can raise awareness, but I cannot change this. I can be here for you and listen. If I could change it all, I would in a heartbeat.” As I stumbled with my answer, my heart broke, because I knew he was right.
People like me come and listen to stories, but that is as far as it can go. I have no ties to the government or the president. I certainly have no ties with the Indonesian government, who is actually responsible for this situation. Many of them wait in hopes for Trump to open our borders again, but honestly what good is it if no one has any money for a plane ticket to get there? Many now blame America for their situation, though we know the Indonesian government won’t let them work.
My heart was changed after this conversation. The passion I saw in his eyes were enough to cause me to start questioning what I believe and how my world view has changed. I made so many assumptions about these people, I made so many assumptions about the world in general.
One plane ticket would change this man’s life and give him hope. God knows if I could provide, I would. God knows if I could change everything from the Taliban to the lives of these poverty-stricken people, I would. I learned this week that I must leave up to God and trust that He holds all these beautiful people. I learned the only thing I can do is pray, and that truly is the only answer. God knows…. If I could change it all, I would.
