Status

A day in a refugee camp: I’ll never be the same

Nakivale Refugee Camp is a place you and I could hardly begin to imagine. I’m not talking about the living conditions or material poverty present in the camp (both of which are imaginably appalling) but the strength of the human spirit present there amongst even the most afflicted of people. People like Steven and Joseph*, whose stories you’re about to hear. In Nakivale, the most unthinkable human suffering exists alongside the most radiant flashes of hope and courage. It is experiencing this that changed my life forever and hopefully, by the end of this article, will change yours too

(*All the names in this story have been changed to protect those involved)

Defiant faces of Nakivale

Located in the Western part of Uganda, Nakivale Refugee Camp is a sprawling patchwork of stick and mud huts stretched out under the hot sun and is home to over 55,000 refugees, half of whom are children. They are the silent sufferers from a series of long-running conflicts that have long fallen out of our 24-hour news cycle, only making intermittent appearances when something particularly heinous happens or some foreign diplomat decides to visit.

On arriving at Nakivale, newcomers are herded off large trucks into a central holding compound, which at the time we were there, appeared to be nothing more than a large storage shed approximately the size of your average school hall. Here they are given some basics for survival; simple cooking utensils, a tarpaulin to throw over whatever they manage to erect from the sticks they scrounge up on their first night, and a small allotment of land to farm. And that is it. This is now their new ‘home’. Yet it’s still a far cry from being ‘safe’ or ‘comfortable’, even in comparison to the terror they’ve already fled. This is attested to by the recounts of violent encounters in the night and the countless children we encounter with glazed eyes, skin infections and distended stomachs, bloated and taught thanks to the lack of any basic health care.

We were there to connect with a number of local Pastors. We had come to learn about these Pastors in Nakivale through the ever-growing number of African families at our own Church in Australia who had previously resided in the camp, many of whom have family members that are still there. After a 20 kilometre trip which took 2 hours across the shockingly pot-holed road, we arrived and were instantly pulled from the car by the warm handshakes and embraces of the local Church members. They ushered us into their small mud brick Church jam-packed with the regular faithful, along with a healthy serve of curious onlookers, no doubt there to see the spectacle of three ‘mzungus’ (whities) sweating it out under the hot tin roof.

Staring back at me from every corner of the Church, I was confronted by something I never expected to encounter in such a camp. Hundreds of bright beaming smiles. Men, women and children, dancing and singing in complete surrender and total defiance of the depressing reality of their situation. This joy made absolutely no sense to me.

Living conditionsHow could such people – whom by definition of being ‘refugees’ had experienced such persecution, violence, grief and loss – behave in such a way? What possible explanation could be given for any display of behavior or emotion even slightly resembling happiness, let alone hope?
And yet this was only the beginning. I was to be further impacted by what came next.

After the service we sat down with four of the local Pastors. At our prompting, they shared a few humble requests; tin sheets to roof the Churches, chairs, some Bibles, and assistance for those most vulnerable in their community- the sick, the orphaned and the widowed. Not once did they mention their own needs.

The fact of the matter was this: had we just left then, despite having done nothing that morning of any ‘practical assistance’ to alleviate their suffering, there is not a doubt in my mind that these men would have thanked us, hugged us, and sent us on our way with their sincere love and gratitude.

They would have said nothing to us about the fact that as we spent time with them that day, their very lives were in grave danger.

Thank God we made sure to ask them to share their personal stories and their personal needs- not because there is anything ‘likable’ about them but because they fully illuminate the incredible depth of character these men possessed. A depth characterized by the kind of love, courage, humility and willingness to sacrifice that the majority of us could only dream of aspiring to.

Brave men of Nakivale

Pastor Steven – The ‘eternal’ refugee

Pastor Steven, the eldest of the four, stood to his feet and braced himself as he prepared to deliver the full weight of his heartrending testimony to these unassuming visitors. Pastor Steven’s story reflects the tragic absurdity of the millions of men and women this world has quite literally ‘rejected’. Born and raised in one refugee camp, Steven tried to return to the country of his parents only to be beaten, tortured and driven away, landing once more in another refugee camp. Now, at age 50, this man- who has never once lived a day in his life with any relative sense of belonging, safety, certainty or security- is being told that he is being sent home again, where his very presence could spell certain death. In all of this what was his crime? What is he being punished for? It is not that anyone has ‘convicted’ him, it’s just that in the world’s eyes, he doesn’t belong. No one wants him – not his country, not his people, not our government and not the UN. Chances are for Steven that he will pass through this world born, lived and died forever a refugee.

Pastor Joseph – The man with the stolen wife

To any husband, Joseph’s story should sound and feel like nails screeching down a blackboard. Just thinking about it causes me to physically wince and ache for this man. After returning with his wife from a refugee camp in Rwanda, those in power in Joseph’s own country decided that having stolen this man’s land and property was not enough. They wanted his wife. As is common in such conflicts, what the violent want, they get. And so the rebels took Joseph’s wife and used her for their own satisfaction, and soon she was pregnant. Having lost his wife, Joseph figured there was no immediate good to be achieved in losing his own life. So he fled to Nakivale Refugee Camp. Yet he is far from defeated. Joseph is the senior Pastor, a role he applies himself to with the kind of passion and enthusiasm you could never imagine belonging to such an afflicted man. The children run to him, the elderly drop their knee in respect for him and his flock adore him. Evil has not snatched this mans capacity to give of himself his greatest asset, his love.

Pastor Peter – The survivor

Peter was the youngest of the four Pastors we met that day. At the time he told us his story, we were under pressure to leave the camp in order to make it home before dark, however I could tell he was now eager to share his story too. It didn’t take long to get to the crux of his predicament. Three years ago, at just 27 years of age, Peter became the only surviving member of his family. Not one other of his seven siblings made it out of his home country alive.

Pastor four – The stories left untold

Pastor four didn’t say a word. We never got to hear his story and I doubt we ever will. But he represents the millions of stories untold by those this world doesn’t know what to do with. Those we encamp, detain and deport because we’ve simply lost the creativity and will to find a better way. His nameless presence should serve as a reminder that for every story we hear, there’s countless others like it that we don’t hear.

I can only describe my experience of Nakivale Refugee Camp as a place where the mind cannot keep up with the heart. So many things there make no sense, and yet I saw most clearly in the people there the inextinguishable spirit of those whose hope is in God. For all the questions I left Nakivale asking, I’m certain of one thing: I will never forget those smiling faces and those dancing feet. I will remember daily those courageous men. In every trial or battle I face, I will remember them and I will strive to love and live like they so unceasingly do.

Status

We are moving to Nepal!

INFWe are so excited to let you, our friends and family know, that as of July we are off to work in Nepal with the country’s longest serving international NGO, the International Nepal Fellowship (INF).

For Britt and I this marks the beginning of a long awaited dream of both of ours, to live and serve directly alongside some of the most resilient yet impoverished communities in our world, to learn from their strength and participate in their way of life.

Whilst the incredible peaks of the Himalayas can give Nepal an often magical other-wordly feel, day to day life for the majority of Nepali people is a far harsher reality. I’ll never forget during my last trip to Nepal, our van rounded a corner to find a group of desperate men who had laid the body of an injured woman directly across the road in order to force the next passing vehicle to help. As we hastily made room for the stretcher, I saw one of the men raise the blanket covering the face of the badly injured woman, who I now realized was his wife. Her chest was rising and falling slowly yet she was making next to no sound at all. As we sat silent and shaken, the interpreter explained to me that she had been struck several hours earlier by a falling rock whilst out gathering firewood and that sadly, this was a common occurrence here in Jumla, which sits perched over 2300m above sea level in Nepal’s mountainous Western region.

I had been on assignment with a film crew for World Vision capturing just some of what life was like for the local children. It wasn’t easy. Earlier that week we had met Lalu, who at just 7 years of age, looked more like he was 4 years old thanks to the effects of malnutrition on his tiny body (you can watch his full story below). His grandfather spoke with remarkable strength and dignity about how Lalu had come to live with them after his father had been killed during recent conflict between the Maoists and the government. Now he too feared for their lives. He pointed out his two small fields which both lay barren and the one measly bag of grain remaining that would need to get them through the winter.

(In the next few weeks I’ll tell you about a young girl named Sarita, whose story has also been a source of inspiration to return to this country.)

Why Nepal? And why INF?

Nepal has some of the worst poverty indicators in the world, with 50% of Nepali children under five malnourished. Nationwide, one in twenty children don’t make it to their firth birthday and in remote areas this number is as high as one in eight. Education and issues of gender inequality mean that only 48.3% of women over the age of 15 can read and write.

Yet INF is an organization with a plan. Its mission is to;

Live out the good news of Jesus Christ in word and deed by serving Nepali people through promoting health, fighting poverty and social injustice, working with and encouraging churches, and caring for creation.

It does this through a range of health and development programs aimed at helping people suffering from malnutrition, TB, leprosy, disability, HIV / AIDS and drug abuse, whilst facilitating greater overall development amongst poor communities in a way which, ‘helps them to help themselves’. It is INF’s commitment to helping the nation stand on its own two feet that has most strongly drawn us to their work.

What exactly will we be doing?

INF is staffed and run almost entirely by local Nepali workers. International workers with highly specific skill sets make up only a small number of the total staff. Brittany will be the one working full time for INF as their Community Health and Development Monitoring and Evaluation Officer. The development of appropriate and effective monitoring and evaluation tools will help to ensure that INF can deliver the very best outcomes for Nepali people whilst maximizing the efficiency of their resources.

For myself personally, I will be studying as part of the Arrow Leadership Program, whilst working intently on a few dreams of my own around how to best engage and inspire Australian young adults in finding ways to use the skills and opportunities they have been given to help the poorest of the poor.

We would love you to join us

We don’t go alone. We would love you to ‘come on the journey with us to Nepal’ and there are a couple of ways that you can be involved:

1. Take the time to watch the video below introducing the work of INF so that you can share in our excitement and passion for this incredible country

2. With their efforts focused squarely on helping the people of Nepal, INF does not have large teams dedicated to raising awareness and support in countries like Australia. In order to help fund the programs and contribute to the wages of the 320 local Nepali workers, the small handful of international workers like us are required to raise our own support through family, friends and the church. If you are interested in supporting us financially, we would love to provide you with some further information that will help you understand how you can do that. Please email us at matt.darvas@gmail.com

3. Get behind us with prayer (if that’s your thing) and encouragement, in just being out mates and checking in on how we’re going. You might even like to come visit us sometime! We would love to have you!

We look forward to keeping you up to date with our progress in the coming months. I’ll be wrapping up work in March and then we are off for 2 months on a whirlwind round the world trip. First to the Middle East, and then Africa to work with our overseas partners on a number of projects for our church, The Grainery Christian Network, and finally onto the USA to undertake a training course on working cross-culturally. We will return mid-May for 6 weeks before departing for Nepal late June.

Much love.

Matt and Britt

‘Real’ Santa Claus Fought Sex Trafficking

Santa Claus is not the round and jolly imaginary character your parents made up to delight you as a child. He was a real man who over 1500 years ago rescued three sisters from being sold as sex slaves. With over 3 million women and girls still enslaved in this horrendous trade, we need to rescue the example of the ‘real’ Santa this Christmas lest he be confined to shopping centre performances and lawn decorations.

st nick

The real Santa, Nikoloas of Myra, was a 4th century saint and Greek bishop. Not much is known about the “Old St Nick”, other than the fact the he was orphaned at a young age. Whilst serving as a bishop, Nikolas learnt that three young girls in his community were about to be sold into sex slavery by their father, who was too poor to pay for their dowry. Nikoloas took from the church’s treasure and anonymously threw three purses of coins through the window of this family, protecting the dignity of the father and saving him the pain of selling his three daughters. It was a selfless and generous act that showed an awareness for those in need and a willingness to do something about it.

It is tragic then that today’s modern interpretations of Santa Claus have become geared more towards encouraging children who typically already have enough to ask for more, rather than focusing on rescuing those children throughout the world whose very lives are still in danger due to unresolved poverty and injustice.

Almost seventeen centuries have passed since St Nikolas rescued those precious girls. However, this Christmas season, as we join with our own families to celebrate and unwind, another father somewhere in the world is facing the same predicament as the father in the original story. Tragically, today’s statistics tell us that it is more than likely that this time his daughters will be sold…

So how bad is the problem? The buying and selling of men, women and children affects more people today than during the entire period of the well documented transatlantic slave trade.

It is estimated that as many as 3 million women and girls are enslaved in the global sex trade, an industry worth over $27.8 billion each year.

As overwhelming as the statistics are, this is really about the individuals. Children just like ‘Ka’. Watch her story.

ka

Did I tell you about the real Santa Claus to ruin your Christmas cheer? No. I told you because just like the girls Saint Nikolas rescued, the 3 million women and girls still trapped in the sex trade today desperately need our attention and action. Those who live in freedom are responsible for those who don’t.

 

Challenge:

This Christmas will you share the ‘real’ story of Santa Claus with your family and friends in order to give a voice to the voiceless children of sex trafficking?

_____________

 

For more information on sex trafficking and to find out what you can do, check out:

- International Justice Mission: Human rights agency that brings rescue to victims of slavery, sexual exploitation and other forms of violent oppression

- A21: Committed to one goal: to abolish slavery in the 21st century

- Stop the Traffik: A global coalition working together to help stop the sale of people, to see the traffickers prosecuted and to protect the victims of human trafficking

 

 

Leave a Comment

December 17, 2012 2 Comments Short URL , , , , , , , , , Uncategorized

Poverty. And a large frappuccino to go.

When you think about poverty, is this the kind of image that comes to mind?

For as long as most of us can remember, these types of images have been used by non-profit organisations to show us what poverty looks like for millions around the globe.

But the face of poverty is changing rapidly. Though rural poverty still exists, urban growth has contributed to an increasing number of people living in urban poverty. By 2020, roughly 1.4 billion people will live in informal urban settlements and slums.

In these pictures, I’m standing next to a man who has been forced to rebuild his home three times in 10 years thanks to frequent typhoons in the Philippines.

That day, he told me that every home he rebuilds is smaller than the last. His current home was a 5x3m shack, made from bamboo, plywood and scrap metal. The one-bedroom shack was home to his whole family: two parents and six kids under 16.

But as appalling as the condition of this home was, it was the location that was most disturbing.

In my travels, I’ve seen people living in some of the most unimaginable ways and places. But I’ve never seen a dilapidated shack standing right around the corner from… a Starbucks.

That’s right, only a short walk from this family’s struggle to survive you could order your favourite double shot capp, skinny latte or soy frappuccino.

This is the new picture of poverty, and the injustice is more painfully obvious than ever.

This year, Australia is expected to spend more than $37 billion on takeaway food. To ensure every child worldwide received primary school education, UNESCO estimates it would cost $16 billion. Yet 20 per cent of young people in developing countries still don’t complete primary school, and lack essential skills for the workforce.

In the West, we’ve managed to send our finest brands and products to the very same communities that the world’s poorest of the poor now live. But somehow we find it difficult to send support: emergency relief when disasters like typhoons strike, and long-term development aid.

As our two worlds collide, the difference between the rich and poor is becoming more and more striking. We can no longer pretend that poverty is something that exists far away from us, when in reality it’s right on our doorstep, next to our favourite coffee shop.

—————-

This blog was first written for the Compassion Australia website and can be veiwed here.

Leave a Comment

December 2, 2012 2 Comments Short URL , , , , , Uncategorized

Status

A note on losing our house…

It’s with a heavy heart and sense of real disappointment that Britt and I have to let you, our friends, know that previous plans to serve asylum seekers in the home we moved into purposely for are now no longer able to go ahead.

Image

In May we stumbled across an old disused Catholic Convent in our neighborhood and instantly fell in love with it. We imagined all the possibilities that existed in a house with 10 rooms to serve those in need of a home and a community. At the same time my wife was offered a job working with asylum seekers in a Community Detention program aimed at providing safe and humane alternatives to detention centers and offshore processing for families and children. It seemed the perfect fit. And so we readied the house, prepared the rooms, made the relevant connections to local service providers and along the way received countless offers of help and assistance in the form of furniture, appliances, time and energy from you guys, our friends and families.

Well after months of waiting in a state of limbo, thanks largely to morally questionable changes in Australia’s policy towards asylum seekers and a complete lack of commitment or clarity from the bureaucrats involved, we have finally had to pull the plug.

What’s worst about all of this is not what we’ve lost personally – although it is considerable as it includes our house, Britt’s job and the last 5 months we’ve spent with all of you preparing and praying for this – but what it means for those we never got to help.

We had an opportunity as a community and as a nation, to welcome at least some of those who have had to flee the unspeakable violence, persecution and upheaval that goes with jumping on a boat, and to instead provide for them some resemblance of normality and peace. Instead of being thrown in a detention center behind barb wires or shipped off to a tiny speck in the Pacific Ocean ‘out of sight and out of mind’ often for years on end, they could have lived with us. We wanted this not because of our own political reasons or what we stood to gain but simply to be able say to these people, “We know what you’ve been through and we want to welcome you and help you.” We know many of you want the same. And yet now, because of political expediency and baffling bureaucratic decision making, this opportunity has been lost.

To be honest, we are not sure what we’re going to do next. We’re still figuring that out but we’re not anxious or concerned, after all we have the security of knowing we’ll land on our feet, living as we do in the ‘lucky country’ where we have more than enough to take care of our needs and pursue our next set of goals. I just wish the same could be said for the asylum seekers we are now unable to help.

But then again, doesn’t this entire situation just typify the plight of the asylum seeker and the refugee?

They are people who have lost everything, including any sense of security or certainty. They are the ones nobody seems to want or know what to do with. And now our country has a policy of ‘deterrence’, which basically equates to making the prospect of coming to Australia, seem so bad for these people, that it would appear better off to stay put and take their chances in a country where their lives and livelihoods are at risk.

One thing is for sure, we are not going to let this experience in any way dampen or discourage our steadfast commitment to helping those most poorly treated and ignored by our society.

When you throw your lot in with those living on the edges you’ve got to expect your own lives to get a bit messy. We don’t resist this but rather embrace it and we’re incredibly confident that this is how it’s meant to be when we follow Jesus, a guy who himself admitted his own homelessness and sacrifices were all just part and parcel in serving those He loved.

Our hope is that despite not having to been able to ‘physically’ house the asylum seekers that our actions have humbly helped to inspire others that there is an alternative to the way we currently treat asylum seekers and that another way is possible based on love, compassion and an attitude of ‘welcoming’ rather than ‘deterring’.

Thanks for all your love and support.

Matt and Britt

Ps. Keep up the fight by getting on board with Welcome to Australia, a phenomenal campaign engaged in powerful actions to change this country’s conversation on asylum seekers and refugees.

A note for those who have donated goods to the house: We are still trying to ensure the house is available for refugees in the community potentially through another service provider. We will let you know as soon as we find out. However, if you would like any of your donated furniture or goods back, we understand. Please email Britt at brittany.darvas@gmail.com and we will organize this.

Status

When Children Surprise

Gift and MeChildren have a lot to teach us and yet their voice is often the least heard in our society. In a culture obsessed with knowledge and power, children can often be seen as ‘lesser’ citizens with little to contribute on the things that ‘really matter’. A number of my own recent experiences have shown me what an oversight this truly is. When it comes to society’s toughest issues, it’s often children who think straighter than their more ‘adult’ counterparts.

I’ve visited some of the worst places in the world to be a child. One that stands out is a slum I was invited to in Delhi, which clung to the side of a literal ‘mountain’ of rubbish. Here children as young as four and five trade school for scraps, spending each day searching the mountain for re-sellable trash. With every barefoot step comes the risk of cuts and infection. Yet despite these appalling conditions – and others like them around the world – what has always amazed me is how children, the smallest and most vulnerable members in these communities, always find a way to continue to smile and play as if simply celebrating life itself.

Dr Vinay Samuel, director of the Oxford Centre for Missions Studies, makes the interesting observation that, “Children are born with transcendence.” Samuel is referring to what appears to be an inherent ability of children to rise above situations that adults would view as dangerous, stressful or otherwise generally unpleasant.

Have you ever noticed how children have a greater openness to the world around them than adults? They appear to live with a constant sense of awe and wonder and have an uncomplicated view of life that allows them to trust and follow more easily. They don’t discriminate, judge or envy like adults do because often they haven’t yet been told by society what is ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, ‘beautiful’ or ‘ugly’, ‘desirable’ or ‘worthless’ (think about your nephew who is always more interested with the box rather than the present!). We might call this simple stage of life one of ‘blissful ignorance’ but there’s something more profound and pure about the outlook of a child that we miss out on if we leave it at that.

Let me share two recent encounters with two beautiful children I met during time working in Africa earlier this year. I work for an international child development organization called Compassion. We are best known for our child sponsorship program, which connects a sponsor, typically from a developed country, to a poor child in a developing country. I love my job and believe in what we do with all my heart, but I struggle from time to time with the notion that what we are doing could be construed as ‘paternalistic’. By this I am referring to the challenges associated with ensuring that our sponsors aren’t viewed as challenging or displacing the role of the natural parents and local community as the primary care givers and guardians over these children’s lives. Despite my confidence in what we do, it is something that weighs heavily on my mind as it has the potential for serious ramifications on both sides.

One such bout of intense fretting over this very issue came thirty minutes out from our arrival at a Compassion Child Development Centre in Uganda earlier this year, when I was leading a team of Australians to visit their sponsor children. As per usual, we were welcomed to the singing and dancing of the local women as we piled out of the van and into the church. As we sat listening to the project director, a young girl had the courage to come up with her arms stretched out towards me. I happily obliged, lifting her up with a big smile and plonking her on my lap. I never refuse a child who wants to be picked up! She nestled into my chest and remained there contently for the next thirty minutes. During the rest of the day she continued to remain by my side, quite a feat for a toddler when there were 200 other children vying for attention.

‘Gift’, (what an awesome name!) was only 3 years old. At this age she was far too young to understand ‘paternalism’, ‘nepotism’ or any other ‘isms’ that were spinning around in my mind. Being too young to understand the concept of a ‘sponsor’, she was safe from the adult politics of the situation and yet she knew exactly how to put my mind at ease. She was just happy to have me there, just as I was happy to be there with her. Through her simple love and acceptance – that had nothing to do with paternalism, power, money, race or class – Gift spoke to me and alleviated my fears in a way no adult could possibly have done. For that I am ever grateful and we now have the joy of sponsoring her as well, so that she can grow up to fulfil all the potential she was born with.

Crossing into Kenya now and to the village of an impoverished rural family where four Australian supporters stand very silently in front of a local family, obviously very shy and perhaps a bit embarrassed about their humble mud brick home. With everyone unsure of what to do, it was their four year old that took charge. Upon inviting us in, she showed us with incredible pride her few possessions before insisting we took tea with them. Before leaving, she asked us to all bow down and pray together for her family before she returned the favour and prayed for us. Without any ability or care for comparisons between her family’s lives and our own in Australia, this freed her from any undue feelings of inferiority or embarrassment. Just like Gift, her child-like love and acceptance paved a way between a group of very different adults, when little else seemed possible.

I invite you to spend time in the company of a child next time you’ve got a problem ‘too big’ for adults. Who knows what surprises you’ll find in the midst of these beautiful little minds? Like Wes Stafford, CEO of Compassion International says, “When it comes to children, they’re simply too small to ignore.”

______________________________

This article was inspired whilst reading Dan Brewster’s, “Future Impact: Connecting Child, Church and Mission”. It is a fantastic book that I would recommend to anyone looking to dig further into God’s heart for children.

Status

Why I started the petition against ZOO Weekly’s “Hottest Asylum Seeker” Competition

When will we treat asylum seekers with the compassion, respect and dignity they deserve? This disgusting competition by ZOO Weekly only serves to highlight a bigger problem. For as long as we continue to dehumanize asylum seekers by the various dissociative labels we ascribe to them in the public sphere – labels like ‘boat people’, ‘queue jumpers’ and ‘terrorists’ -  we will never engage with their personal stories or extend to them their undeniable human rights.

Asylum seekers have names beyond what we call them. They also have families, livelihoods and communities that they wished they could return to. No one chooses to be any asylum seeker. I know this because over the last several years I have lived alongside a growing number of African families (25 at last count) who have found themselves connected into the church I attend, The Grainery Christian Network in Newcastle. Together with my wife and family, we have shared numerous meals with them around our tables, taught them to swim at the beach, attended the weddings of their children and at hard times mourned with them.

All of these families at one stage fled their countries in East Africa as asylum seekers and were fortunate enough to be settled in Australia. However, as easy as we might think life in the ‘lucky country’ is for these families once they reach our shores, we are wrong. Many of the families arrived missing family members, including children, but mostly husbands and fathers who were murdered by militias, often in front of their very own eyes. One New Year’s Eve, soon after one family had arrived, my mother-in-law took them to see the fireworks at the harbour foreshore. The loud colorful explosions, whilst bringing delight to most onlookers, caused one Congolese female refugee to rush for cover between nearby exhibition tents, and was found later shaking and in a state of shock. When asked about the incident she replied that despite being aware that she was in Australia, a country not at war, she instinctively reverted to a survival mentality because, “When we heard that sound in the Congo it meant the rebels were coming.” Flashbacks like this along with nightmares and other associated health problems are typical hallmarks of post-traumatic stress, a condition most asylum seekers are likely to suffer.

The competition by ZOO Weekly jokes that, “if you’ve swapped persecution for sexiness, we want to shoot you (with a camera – relax). Send your pics and a story about your tragic past to enterme@zooweekly.com.au’. This makes a mockery of the tragic circumstances and trauma that female asylum seekers, including my friends continue to experience. In some ways asylum seekers are trading one form of persecution for the next when they arrive in Australia and we need to do better.

It’s also not fair to the Australian public to have our perceptions of asylum seekers shaped by the vitriolic rhetoric used by the negative elements of the media, politicians and key opinion leaders. For the men who read this magazine you can quickly see how negative and derogatory perceptions of asylum seekers so easily take root in our nation.

The noble ideal behind human rights is that they belong to us not because of our race, gender, age or nationality but simply because we are born ‘human’. The way we treat asylum seekers is perhaps the ultimate betrayal of this ideal in Western liberal states like our own. We talk much of ‘human rights’ and claim them when we seek to protect our own citizens wrongfully treated overseas, but our treatment of the ‘stateless’ asylum seeker who we encounter desperately trying to reach our shores, makes it clear that even in this country ‘human rights’ have their limits at the border.

Please continue to sign and share the petition

By Matthew Darvas

Status

Why my wife and I aren’t ‘special’

We are a little uneasy with many people’s responses to the news that we’re moving out to live with asylum seekers…. but not for reasons you might think. Put simply we are desperate to make it clear that what we are doing should not be seen as too ‘special.’ Here is why.

A devastating reminder

Just this week I was starkly reminded why we are doing this. Doreen*, is a refugee from the Democratic Republic of Congo, whose eldest son was separated from her whilst fleeing the violence. Thought dead, he was later found but remains stuck in in a Ugandan refugee camp unable to be reunited with his distraught mother in Australia (I tried but failed to locate him during a recent trip to Uganda but that’s for another story). Doreen, sitting at our dining table, head down muttered, “Yes, I escaped the war in my country. I now have food and a house in Australia but my heart is still at war. I have no peace.” How could we not respond?

The examples below typify many of the responses we have received from friends and acquaintances over the past several weeks.

“I would love to do what you guys are doing but would never know how.”

“What you are doing is incredible but I’m glad it is you guys and not us.”

I find many people are genuinely supportive and excited by what we are doing and yet at the same time ‘talk down’ their own potential and ability to do similar despite their obvious heart to help. How much I want to grab hold of them (in a nice way!) and tell them that they can! Now I’m not suggesting everyone should do what we have done (move into a huge old convent and fill it with asylum seekers) but we must all respond in action and with love to the issues that ignite something within us.

Don’t be afraid to help

If you are someone who feels even the slightest sense of insecurity or hesitancy in your ability to help others, let me assure you it will immediately be displaced by the sense of purpose you’ll find. And here’s the thing, you have already been given all that you need to make a difference. Helping doesn’t follow any prescribed ‘model’. In fact, it is quite simple. Take what you’re already passionate about, your gifts, skills and abilities and where they meet the needs of the world, there is your ‘sweet-spot for helping out’ (so to speak). So whether you’re a tradie, teacher, doctor, student or stay-at-home-mum, someone, somewhere needs you and will benefit immeasurably by you stepping out and into their need.

Many of us know but I wish all of us could experience how utterly simple and yet unbelievably rewarding it is to get alongside those in our society who most need our help, and to see them flourish as a result. Nothing beats it. I’m convinced all of us can live a life of adventure and purpose through meaningful relationships with the marginalized and oppressed.

I would hate for people to think that in starting this house and sharing about it with others that Britt and I thought we were these special people doing this incredible thing. It’s simply not the case. We’re not special. We are passionate, driven and focused but not special. We are just responding to a need that’s been put in front of us with what we have in our hands.

What can you do?

What irresistible need is in front of you right now? Who could you step in to help or stand up for? Is it a cause, a family member or a child in your neighborhood who simply needs someone to play with? It doesn’t have to be ‘big’ or public or blogged about. It just has to require your time, love and courage to get involved.

*Name changed to protect this friends privacy

Status

Welcome to our new house!

This weekend we will move our entire lives into what was previously an old 10 bedroom Nuns convent and open our doors to families who have fled their countries due to unspeakable violence and persecution in a desperate attempt to find peace and stability for their children. We want this to be a house of love and welcome, where potential is nurtured and dreams of a new life in this country can be realised. We want you to join us.

After months of planning and dreaming, finally the lease is signed and we are all set to move in this weekend. For Britt and myself this marks a completely new chapter in our lives, one we have been working towards ever since we first met. When we were married (just over a year ago!) we finished our vows with the promise that, “From this day forth I’m on your team!” Our intention behind this promise was to take hold of what Dietrich Bonheoffer casts in his vision of marriage,

In your love you see only the heaven of your own happiness, but in marriage you are placed at a post of responsibility towards the world and mankind. Your love is your own private possession, but marriage is more than something personal – it is a status, an office. (Bonheoffer, A Wedding Sermon From A Prison Cell)

Finding ‘The Convent’

For the past year we have lived in facsinating little suburb in Newcaslte. It consists of run down fibro cottages and public housing – signposts of the suburbs working-class past – mixed in with the stylish new apartments and renovations of a rising young middle-upper class drawn by the close proximity to the city. We have lived in the former rather than latter style of residence. Our home has the nameplate ‘Boragi’ nailed to the front, for which the only definition we can find is its aboriginal meaning, ‘A small hole or depression’ (A gloomy contradiction to the fun and warmth we’ve experienced in our little home!).

Living here, one thing I’ve learnt is how greatly your location shapes your calling to serve those around you. The homes around us and the streets in front of us are shared with hardworking single mums, Congolese refugees and a rag tag bunch of kids who try their best to get run over every afternoon after school (I hit one once, he ran into the side of my car, I was more frightened and worried than he was!).

Experiencing the richness of living amongst such diversity we’ve come to love our community and dreamt of ways that we could further our ability to serve in it. However, trying to practice an open style of hospitality in a house with only 1 bedroom, a dining room that only fits six and a kitchen with bench space for 1 measly chopping board, we decided it was time for something bigger!

One afternoon we punched the words ‘rentals in Newcastle’ into Google and stumbled upon ‘The Convent’. I had walked past the old compound a bunch of times without thinking much other than, ‘What’s the go with that?’ Its vacated church buildings stand dormant alongside the huge empty house adjoining. As we walked through that same house the very next day with the real estate agent we both felt something beginning to stir.

Who are the housemates?

Whilst we knew we wanted the house, we didn’t know who would end up in it with us. All we knew was that we wanted to create a place of community and warmth where we could share our lives with others and in turn experience the joy that comes from multiple stories mixed together.

As we looked again at the house we saw how it divided into three family quarters (kind of), enough for ourselves and two other families. We saw the large dining room and communal areas and dreamt of the conversations and meals that could be shared, noticed the adjoining halls and thought of the community programs that could be facilitated and stood in the open garden courtyard out the back and thought about what we might grow here altogether.

Asylum seekers and refugees have been made homeless and often hopeless by violence, persecution and upheaval, in the process often uprooted and disconnected from their families, friends and culture (Check out the fantastic new campaign by the UNHCR is sharing the message that ‘No one chooses to be a refugee’). We didn’t want to just settle them into a new life of isolation here in Australia but rather welcome them into a community where they would experience acceptance and affirmation.

What is the vision?

So now everything is in place. We will move in, set up and hopefully within weeks receive the first families. As we set out on this new adventure it’s helpful to set some kind of vision for what our hopes for the house are. The purpose of the vision is not for us to hold so tightly to it that we insist ‘this is what must happen’ but rather to let it serve as a reminder to ourselves in the weeks and months to come, during both the good and bad, that ‘this is why we started this.’ We also hope by casting such a vision that others, perhaps you, will be able to take hold of it and share in it with us.

Our vision for the house is two-fold;

To create a community where asylum seekers and refugees are empowered to reach their potential, whilst demonstrating a positive public example of how we can welcome them as individuals and families into our communities and homes.

How can you partner with us?

We would be foolish to attempt this on our own and that is why we invite you to be a part of our community. For those who can make it we invite you to come and work alongside us in the house, volunteering your time to assist with the various needs that will arise or even just coming around to share in a meal. For those who can’t ‘be there’ we ask for your encouragement, support and prayers as we seek together to change the conversation on asylum seekers and refugees in our communities and nation.

——–

We look forward to what is about to come and will be sharing stories from the house and our experience in creating community here on this blog.

Matt and Britt

Status

They are dying to get here but are you welcoming them?

For Britt and I it’s been a dramatic week of highs and lows in our service of the asylum seeker and refugee community, yet one that has only strengthened our resolve and sense of call that we must act. As we prepare to begin an exciting new undertaking (full details soon!) that will see us investing our lives even further for this cause, I want to share with you the week that’s been.

It’s dangerous to care about other people, especially those living on the margins. Their lives are unpredictable, their circumstances always changing and it feels like the only way to help them in any meaningful way is to stand by them in solidarity and throw your own lot in with theirs. This of course exposes you to their pain, opens your eyes to their situation and risks having your own heart broken when it doesn’t go to plan. This week has been one of those weeks.

The highs…

On Sunday we celebrated receiving a massive cheque for $35,000 from Newcastle State MP Tim Owen that has enabled us to purchase a new bus for the ever expanding Congolese refugee community at our church, The Grainery Christian Network. I can only imagine the pride and acceptance they felt having been so heavily invested into by their new Australian community. The cheque itself was received to the shouting and jubilation of Kwabo Batende (leader of the Congolese community who was sporting his fire-hydrant red suit!) and the singing and dancing of the Karibu Choir.

Then on Wednesday night, which also happened to be World Refugee Day, Britt and I had the privilege of sharing dinner with eight male asylum seekers from Iran, Iraq and Afghanistan as part of her new job working with the Salvation Army’s Community Detention Program. I arrived late and was greeted by the huge toothy smile (albeit with some teeth missing and others looking pretty wobbly) of one gentleman before being energetically seated on the couch and served dhal and curry by another middle aged Afghani man. As I sat listening to them sing I couldn’t help but think that if every Australian could just share a meal with these guys we wouldn’t even think of referring to them as ‘boat people’, ‘queue jumpers’ or ‘potential terrorists’—terms that have been incited thanks in part to unhelpful political rhetoric from both parties. The only label I could give these guys by the end of the night was ‘new mates’.

The lows…

Then on Thursday night came the horrible news that another boat carrying over 200 Sri Lankans had capsized over 100 nautical miles from shore. Like our Congolese refugees and my ‘new mates’, these mothers, fathers, grandparents and children were fleeing due to the violence and terror of their own civil war and. As I write this, three are already confirmed dead, and another 90 are missing. By the time you read this, I’m sure there will be more. I received the news via my phone as I sat through the previews of What to Expect When You’re Expecting, out to enjoy a harmless night of easy entertainment with my wife and friends. I couldn’t help but think about how uneasy the situation was right now for those poor Sri Lankans plunged into the open ocean.

How do you respond to the brutal truth that people are literally dying to just make it to the shores of the country you so naturally and effortlessly call home?

 

What can you do?

One man who has responded in a radical way is Brad Chilcott who is leading the Welcome to Australia revolution that is transforming the landscape in the Australian public when it comes to engaging with asylum seekers and refugees. With a passion for people over politics, Welcome to Australia is breaking down the classic ‘us’ versus ‘them’ divisions and shifting the conversation from fear and separation to inclusion and compassion.

This Saturday, people around Australia will gather in cities to Walk Together in recognition that “although we’ve all arrived here via different pathways we share a common Australian journey”. Starting at 1 pm in your capital city, this weekend is your chance to find out where it will take place and join the walk.

Given the week that has been there is perhaps no more poignant time in this nation’s history to stand together and welcome those who have come to be here.

 

Older Entries
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 46 other followers

%d bloggers like this: