Being a Refugee: Happy World Refugee DAY! FIGHT ON:
We went through challenges–some of us more than others–nights of fears and the dreams that will never go away. Years of therapy can heal some of the wounds from the atrocities we witnessed. Me, a little girl 3 years old, walking through the night and day seeking refuge. Tanzania, a land I had never embarked on, would be called home for what seemed like forever. The walk from Burundi to Tanzania had its own imprints into my brain…dead children, mothers, fathers and grandmothers. At the gentle age of 3, deaths become all too common for me. I developed a thick shell of my frightened young self, too afraid to let fear take the best of me. At 3, I realized that nowhere in my life would I be safe. Through the 5 years in that refugee camp, more parts of me disappeared, and I built a wall to protect myself, to the adult things that were happening to me. Sitting in dark rooms and holding other children, trying to comfort them, made me a caretaker even at 5 years old.
We went through challenges–some of us more than others–nights of fears and the dreams that will never go away. Years of therapy can heal some of the wounds from the atrocities we witnessed. Me, a little girl 3 years old, walking through the night and day seeking refuge. Tanzania, a land I had never embarked on, would be called home for what seemed like forever. The walk from Burundi to Tanzania had its own imprints into my brain…dead children, mothers, fathers and grandmothers. At the gentle age of 3, deaths become all too common for me. I developed a thick shell of my frightened young self, too afraid to let fear take the best of me. At 3, I realized that nowhere in my life would I be safe. Through the 5 years in that refugee camp, more parts of me disappeared, and I built a wall to protect myself, to the adult things that were happening to me. Sitting in dark rooms and holding other children, trying to comfort them, made me a caretaker even at 5 years old.
Leaving Burundi we took nothing, but the clothes on our backs:
I, at a young age, become a protector and would often sacrifice myself so another child wouldn’t experience what I knew would never allow them to be the same. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared, but allowing predators to see fear only encourages them to treat you worse. So I held on, learned to not cry or fight back, brainwashed in that camp and made to believe that if I told anyone no one would believe me. I wondered, was I the only one experiencing this? I started questioning everything I was learning in church; asking “but how can a loving God allow this to continue to happen to me?”…innocence lost at the gentle age of 3 years old.
But there were some good days in that camp, the times my parents would cook meat for us, the games we played as children, the person I became. Even with the struggles, they were some good days…but the bad days were more frequent. There was no safe place–at home, at school, in the community; it’s a refugee camp, plus no one would believe me, and death… well that was overly common. I had to believe them when they said they would kill my family, should I say anything. Starvation was very common, as there not enough food to go around; not enough sharing or caring. Someone I told once asked, but where were your parents? In that type of environment they are safer not knowing; also what would they do? Die? Who would that help? Who would they tell? What help, the soldiers? Police? Those were the same people causing the hurt? They did the best they could, I hold no blame.
I am healing through years and more years of talking about these struggles and more. It is happening in refugee camps; little boys and little girls are losing their innocence, taken away by grown women and grown men. Those who do not take their lives aren’t any braver then those who do; I hold no judgement for not being able to survive after such a heart and soul wrenching experiences.
I MADE IT OUT: I made it to the land of the free and brave, the land where all things are possible: except the roads are paved with gold and money isn’t literally coming from trees. I am safe here, until I close my eyes, when I am awake I feel safe. So I work–I work hard to not feel like a failure, to make sure that those who harmed me in the refugee camp do not win: I live, I call the suicide line often, I call friends when the nightmare become too much for me to bear on my own. I have perfected my public face, my smile is a signature that I have maintained in order to not allow people to see how fragile I am inside.
THERAPY that is an option: tell me I sit in this room and tell this strange white woman my story; she listens, holding back tears as I break down in that cream colored chair; week after week I return, feeling more broken each week, not seeing the healing that is happening. The fighter in me refuses to allow the demons of my present and past control me. She helps me a lot, I feel safe crying in that office, feeling things that I worry I will not come back from. Will I come back from that dark place? I am more than just the scars that I carry. I am a lover of life. I am a learner. I am a Christian. I am God’s expression of love. I care for my family and friends. I am prideful of my heritage and honor the country I am now. The scars, while not healed or nearly healed …will heal. The physical scars will last forever, but the scars that I carry on my heart will one day disappear.
I FIGHT ON: for the little girls who did not make it out. For the boys and girls going through sexual trafficking, rape and molestation, I fight for you. I tell my story so other will know and will protect the children. I fight for the adults dealing with these demons on their own; I plead for change. I am with you. You can make it through another day. You have survived more than you knew you could. Hold on little one just a little longer. You are not alone. I am here and I am listening, do not suffer in silence. I fight for you little four year old learning about things that aren’t meant to be a reality child your age. I fight for the self that I could have been had I not been tormented as a child. I CHOOSE GOD, LIFE, FAMILY, PEACE, ACCEPTANCE, HUMANITY, I CHOOSE TO RECEIVE AND GIVE LOVE:
I SURVIVED, I AM HEALING, AND I AM A REFUGEE!
InspiredbyAline 