THE UNSHAKABLE

“Don’t give up on life, the one you are blessed to live.” – Unknown

Around 8 PM, my phone rings. It’s George. “Hey! Wake up…” Before I can say anything, I check the time, wondering why he is asking me to wake up. He proceeds, “When are you departing?” Departing? Bemused, I reply, “Departing? To where?” “To the refugee camp. You haven’t received the email? They gave us the go-ahead to implement,” he says. Questions whirl in my mind as I run to my laptop. “I haven’t received it. But let me check again.”

As a routine, I check my email account before sleeping to ensure I haven’t missed anything from the day. But somehow, this particular email slipped my notice a week and a half ago. It’s from the International Refugee Organization, with which we are partnering on a mental wellness project designed for families in refugee camps. The email states that I’ll be part of the team introducing the project in one of the refugee camps in the region. It’s the same week as the International Week of Science and Peace. I was planning to attend different workshops to learn and share experiences, but now I have been presented with a new task.

The next day, I started drafting an agenda and concept for the duty, gathering available information about the camp and the refugees, and reminding myself of the counseling modalities for refugees, as this would be my first time. Though I have observed that every counseling session is new and different, as a human, you can’t stop your mind from imagining.

On the due date, my chauffeur was late, which made me late by around an hour and a half.

Before entering the camp, you must first meet with officials who verify your identity as per protocol and inquire about your purpose of visiting the camp. They were waiting for me. We first spoke with the Camp Manager for a reception and a brief description of the camp, the background of the refugees, and the scope of our work. This took 40 minutes before we met the people.

The camp manager introduced us as briefed before our arrival and called upon me to talk to the people, which I wasn’t ready for, but I had to improvise.

I stood up. People were sitting in rows, elders fixing their eyes on me, children playing and shouting. Ahead of me, I could see many small houses with metal sheets reflecting sunlight. The sun was heavy. It’s a flat landscape where one’s eyes can’t reach the end of the plain.

“Hello! My name is Darlene Kabeja. I’m the project manager at Sanity Health. It is my pleasure to be here with you today, launching the ‘Keen and Healthy’ project that will provide appropriate mental health and psychosocial support, including sporting activities aimed at addressing and alleviating stress,” I said. My words just echoed the project’s objective, I am not sure if I was able to connect with their minds or respond to their curiosity. We didn’t have time for a Q&A to address their questions; we just wrapped up and moved on with the implementation. The manager linked us with representatives to guide us through the project.

We then toured the camp. I was able to enter some houses, each numbered and housing four families. It’s organized. They have planted trees near the houses for clean air. Children were playing around, many children. Women were cleaning, and men were quietly listening to the radio. There was a market where they bought what they needed, others praying in groups. Some formed circles just for talking about life, the home they left, hopes, and sharing laughter.

On the other hand, some young people chose to remain in the compound all day, as if it was shameful to live in the camp.

A car made rounds with announcements, reminding people what’s allowed and what’s forbidden in the camp.

The team and I split into sections and dispersed around the camp.

The more time I spent there, the more curiosity I felt, the more I felt the depth of empathy and dense unfairness in the air, like the wind knocking on my heart crying for justice. Also, a sense of bereavement and nostalgia for the life they used to have. Every day they recount how long they’ve been there. Some have died, others have moved to the city, and some have gone abroad to developed countries.

The residents were very receptive to the project. They had strong beliefs in the outcome and a thirst for something new. They welcomed anything that could silence their loud thoughts and put their consciousness to use.

The following day, we had an icebreaker session to help everyone open up more and create an enabling environment for them and us to connect and confide in each other.

Willing to share their experiences, they elaborated on what they do for fun with their kids, their level of knowledge, daily tasks, challenges, needs, and wishes. Everyone was honest and eager to learn and do better.

I have never encountered such an awakened, easy-going group of people.

At the end of the day, we formed groups of four families to help each other and share the equipment we had distributed.

I had only four days because I had a presentation at a high-level meeting just before I got back to town.

During my stay, there was this young man, Rodrigue, who was very helpful throughout the project initiation. A brilliant and down-to-earth man who bore his burdens with grace. He married young when he arrived at the camp. Now he is 29 years old with three handsome boys. At first, I didn’t realize he was a resident of the camp because he was so welcoming and devoted to assisting us with anything, like reaching out to people and getting things done on time, so I thought he was getting paid. Sometimes, I’d unprofessionally lament about the refugees’ lifestyle, and he’d just say, “Yeah, things are not easy.” When I was about to leave the camp on the first day, he escorted me to the gate and said, “Darlene, be well during your stay. [clears throat] I’m going to my home too.” “Oh! Where is it?” I asked curiously. “It’s the fifth house, third row we passed by today. That’s where I live with my wife and kids.” Shocked? Yes. Moved by his kindness? Very much so! My mouth was dry, and I just said, “Oh! Okay,” nodding, thinking of apologizing but nothing came out.

He was always looking out for us, worrying that we’d get lost or that the job was too tiring for us because we were in a new environment.

On my last day, I sat down with him to ask about life, and he shared his story. “You see, Darlene, the living conditions in the camp are so unlike normal living conditions. This is not our home. The more time you spend here, the harder it becomes to have a positive perception of life, either due to camp policies or our own behaviors. The emotional and mental wounds are heavy for some of us and difficult to treat. You’ll hear many residents here only look forward to going abroad, hoping for a better life. Even a 70-year-old man has that dream [laughs softly]. Nowadays, members of the LGBTQI community are prioritized because they are harassed, and sometimes they try to recruit young boys,” he revealed.

Rodrigue is one of the benevolent assistants in various projects run in the camp. He and other young men have started a year-long computer coding class. Every morning, they wake up and reach out to different families, especially the elders and those suffering from PTSD, to offer solace and hope. They coordinate assemblies alphabetically, bringing people together and initiating talks so that nobody feels alone.

“Some residents have become mentally ill while living in the camp. Not long ago, a woman lost her three kids in the camp to unknown diseases. She believes they were poisoned by envious neighbors who didn’t wish her well. Now she lives alone, with no husband and no kids. After the incident, she went crazy and violent, and everybody feared getting close to her. The camp management tried to rehabilitate her, but in vain. I approached her and gave her small tasks each day to keep her busy and show that I trusted her to perform her work. Then I invited mothers to be around her. As days passed, people started volunteering to see her, and she got better,” Rodrigue said.

As he narrated the story, I tried to hold back tears, choked up, looking at the sky, my throat hurting from the lump. He told it calmly, with a bright face and a brave spirit seeking to do more.

“My wish is to reach out to everybody in need. Though we are a fractured society, we came from the same country, we hold the same values, and we’re in this together. Therefore, I want to see everybody here happy and making it with their lives. You know, Darlene, [I noticed how intentionally he spoke to me, addressing me by my name] we cannot wait for the perfect time to savor all that we long for and with whom we love in this life. That’s my motto,” he said.

Those words stuck with me and gave me a different perspective on our project proposal writing and implementation. As I took my leave from the camp, I carried with me the memories of those I had met and the touching stories I had heard.