I’m sitting alone in the pool
house right now and tears sting the back of my eyes as I’m typing. I guess the
fact that I have this emotional response is just a culmination of everything
that’s happened so far, but it mostly has to do with my internship. Working at
the Cape Town Refugee Centre (CTRC) has me emotionally exhausted at the end of the day
that I question how some of the staff do this as a full time job. Every Monday
and Wednesday I listen to different stories of refugees who were victims of war,
political persecution, and xenophobia.
Most of the refugees come from the DRC as well as Burundi, Congo,
Somalia, and Sudan. The first day I left my internship I retreated back to our
big comfy privileged home with a feeling of shame because I did not realize the
struggle that refugees face. Their situation is about more than just poverty,
it’s about losing everything. It’s about being alone in a foreign country in
which the culture, language, and people are different. It’s about not being
able to claim a home. It’s about falling
so far down. I have met pharmacists, doctors, and university educated refugees
who are now struggling to get into a shelter. And this is because their country
abandoned them. I had never really thought about how privileged I am to be a citizen.
And not just an American citizen, but a citizen of any country. By being a
citizen I have the right to go to court, the right to be defended by my
government in war, and the privilege of not having to ever think about what it
would be like to be a refugee or asylum seeker.
Now I don’t want to make this sound like refugees are hopeless victims
and it’s the job of the privileged to ‘save’ them. In fact the clients at CTRC are some of the
most courageous people I have ever met in my life. I don’t know if I would be
able to make the war infested journey through 5 different countries just to be
awarded a temporary permit in South Africa.
The level of respect I have for the refugees is only matched by the
level of respect I have for the staff at CTRC. Sometimes after leaving work I
wonder how the social workers do this for a full time job because of the
emotional toll. I come home and everyone asks me ‘how was your day?’ and I always
wonder if I can really tell them about the stories I’ve heard without breaking
down. The worst part is that I get to
come home to a 10 bedroom house while earlier in the day I had to tell people
that we could not provide assistance for them to feed their starving
child. I’m having a very difficult time
trying to balance the appreciation for the fortune I have been given in my life
with the guilt I feel at my internship. However
working at CTRC is not about me or my feelings. It’s about the refugees. It’s about preserving dignity. It’s about
helping someone who has been turned away by literally every institution of
government but still fights to survive.
I may be feeling guilty about my own life now but it is nothing compared
to the hardship and courage it takes to be a refugee.
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