Dear Readers,
[Just before writing this post, I was having a read through my blog and for some weird reason the other 80% of my last post isn't uploading . I've been trying to figure out why or the past half hour but to no avail. Here's hoping that this full post appears without any missing parts because it's probably the most important thing I've written thus far. ]I know I originally said that this was supposed to be a foreign policy and economics blog, but I don't want solely want it to be that anymore. It can't be personal if you're not hearing about all the things I care about and so today I'm going to be a bit more introspective. I've largely only discussed these moments with my close circle, just because I regard it as a very personal experience and not really shared my feelings so intimately with anyone ever before. I'm excited to see how they translate once I pull them out of my brain!
I was SO tired of seeing SO many heads of state and global leaders pretending to care about the refugee ' problem' and doling out false promises ( that too, only as an effort to curb external pressure) to the 'sea of faces'- ignoring the powerful stories, unbridled ambition and strong convictions that lay within that 'sea'. This is how firm handshakes can unravel entire nations when the stage is large enough. It seemed like these people who had the power to actually influence domestic policy and create initiatives to aid the people part of these various exoduses around the world, actually didn't care. I wondered where the compassion was; were there actually human beings behind the leaders I read about in the papers and watched on the news? It even made me rethink my own ambitions of entering into government or foreign service later in life. I contemplated if I would ever find myself in such a compromising position that I had to push my morals completely aside. I couldn't imagine such a bitter divorce of my morals from my work.
Please remember, I don't mean for this to be a scathing attack on various global leaders, because some of them are trying their hardest and have to act with national interests in mind. That being said in many places, including the country I live in, I do believe that the assimilation of refugees into our communities can easily by facilitated by the government. If there is will, it is possible in it's every capacity- financially, logistically, socially. I remember the Malaysian Prime-minister last year issuing a statement, directing Rohingya refugees who had arrived on our shores to " go back to their own country'. Yeah right, the country where the children can't go to school, where family members are being raped, where their homes are being burned and where they are being deprived of economic opportunities? The persecution that is occurring and the government involvement in these deaths has resulted in several human rights groups calling it a genocide of the Rohingya minority living in Myanmar. And you're saying this because " we are not prepared to accept that number coming into our shores"? That could not be more incorrect, at the time there was, and still is, plenty of room for integration and the government has the resources to support community. What infuriated me the most was the fact that these officials tried to underpin their arguments by insinuating that the people of the country do not want them. And although I am not Malaysian, I know many locals and all of them are not the ones creating this divisive rhetoric. I've had so many conversations with friends in school and the people I volunteer with, and the general sentiment has unsurprisingly been of acceptance. Some even expressed their desire to house families and give me that lift to start a new life. Anyways, I intended for this intro to be short but I got carried away. What's new.
**********************************************************************************************************************************
Over the past five years, I've worked with everyone from the Chin to the Tibetan to the Palestinian refugees. However, over the past 16 months, my experiences with the Rohingya community that has fled Myanmar for Malaysian shores, have been formative. (If you'd like, I can go in depth about their situation and more context in a later post, because I don't intend to focus on it too much in this piece). They have helped me define the kind of person I want to be and the kind of impact I want to have. I have always wanted to 'maximise impact' and create 'long term change'. And to an extent I did, I helped make those four walls with crumbling plaster, a school.But this is where myself and many volunteers in fact, go wrong. I was having a conversation about this with one of my friends who volunteered at the Skaramagas refugee camp in Greece this summer, and we were talking about when we work with this motive in our mind, we become detached from the very people we want to help. We want them to become the motors and execute this vision. We end up taking instead of giving. More on this in another blogpost, because I've haven't even scratched the surface.
And for a long time I was wrapped up in this world where I was convinced that I couldn't bring sustainable and tangible and significant change. When I was on the precipice of resignation, I found them and they found me. And for that, I could not be more grateful. The experience that ensued transformed my perspective entirely.
Every Saturday morning my lovely mum drives me an hour away so I can tutor the small community that lives under a veil of fear here ( they've all entered illegally and haven't received their unhcr cards).During the process of establishing the weekend school, I was teaching the 11 older kids singlehandedly and devising the weekly syllabus with another volunteer , but as more people have joined, I've been able to invest my time in my five gems- Halimah, Raesah, Aisyah, Wahida and Noor. And yes, revisiting simultaneous equations and tenses is not my idea of 'fun', but that's not all I came to do, because I'm not some textbook. They need me to remind them to ignore their environment which cloaks them in self-doubt, which propagates that refugees can't amount to anything because they have lost their everything. I remind them each Saturday that they can't amount to anything other than greatness and that their voices will ring throughout the world. Because these are things that I never want them to forget.
We also start the sessions with some chanting. Usually I make them repeat " Today is going to be a great day. I can and will". I have been saying it to myself every morning ever since I heard it in Gina Rodriguez's Emmy Speech. (What a joy is it to share the little things you love with the people you love isn't it? )They need me to make them repeat 'rolled' 100 times until they get their pronunciation spot on, to discuss annoying siblings or that their mum made them eat that green vegetable yesterday which tasted 'yucky', or sometimes to ask me the big, tough questions like " why do boys think we are aren't strong?". Somehow they manage to bring a sense of levity to every conversation and space they enter. I sometimes stand on the side, just feeling humbled to see them so enthusiastically engaged with so little.
And I'll tell you something else . For those three hours, the love is omnipresent. There is so much of it that it consumes me. Within the confines of those four walls, I have found laughter without abandon, kindness beyond limitation and a lust for life, despite the circumstances. Calling the girls only my students would be a lie, for they are have become far more - my confidantes, my sisters, and most of all, my teachers. And when I have to leave, I leave with a heavy heart, but only because it is so full.
I am aware that, what refugees dispersed around the world really need is the wars to end, their homes returned, and their families safe. Whilst we cannot singlehandedly give those to them, we can give them our love. A paintbrush and paper may seem negligible in the grand scheme of things, but if they can remind that one child that they are cared for and not forgotten, I believe it is worth pursuing.I think about them often. When I see the words 'refugee' coupled with 'terror', 'security'& 'threat' across headlines, my heart swells with anger and frustration. When I hear Michelle Obama's 'this is for my girls' song for her new initiative 'Let Girls Learn', my heart swells with hope and reassurance that yes, there is a global community there which is committed to empowering them. When I have to tell them that I can't come next weekend because of the SAT or a debate conference, and see their disappointed faces- my heart swells with guilt for abandoning them whilst I chase all these opportunities.
The more time I spend with my girls, the more challenging it becomes to reconcile how a whole community can been forced to become an invisible margin. How a whole community is "just left behind". The Rohingya in this sense have always been invisible- even back in Myanmar, which they consider as home, they have been ignored by past governments and the current democratically elected one as well. Can you imagine not being considered a citizen in your own country?
So I implore you to do some form of service if you aren't doing so already, because there are so many different communities out there that need you. And to so many of the youth out there - the moment you stop viewing service as a means of fulfilling that IA requirement, the blank space on your resume or a moral obligation beyond self preservation, something will happen. You will not only unearth all it's joys, but also be greeted with a deeper understanding of what it truly means to be human as well as crucial nuance to the community. Believe me.
When Raesah wrote and articulated her first sentence in English, I screamed, then she screamed. Then everyone turned because collectively that was a lot of screaming. I rushed to apologise for the disruption. She had worked her way all the way up from square one, from using hand gestures to google translate to inventive mime, she had made it. And I know it was hard for her. I couldn't contain my pride- it must have been emanating from each pore in my skin. Looking back, I feel so fortunate to have been a part of this moment because these are the moments that matter and always will.
I also remember the time I had to bid farewell to Shahina, one of the most motivated and driven 13 year olds I have ever seen, earlier this year. A few months prior, her father had prohibited her from attending the school on the weekend because he had gotten into an argument with Ustaz ( the leader of the community who acts as our bridge). I had panicked because I thought it was because she was getting married, it had happened to other girls in the community here after all. I remember frantically asking Ustez what had happened and to make things right so that she could come back.Then just a month later, the family's 10 year long wait ended as their resettlement request to the U.S was approved. They were leaving in under a fortnight. 'Bittersweet' suddenly had a whole new, abrasive meaning. She would have so many opportunities there, a good education and so much more stability. Yet, I found it impossible to conceal my dejection; two tears managed to escape my guarded eyes. I promised to visit in Georgia as I tightly embraced her one last time. Could someone not give me a little bit more time with her?
No one ever told me letting go was this hard. I'm even less prepared for the ones that I'll have to carry out myself.
Like leaving the rest of the girls next year for university when they have already been robbed of so much. I fear I will transform to just another entry on their endless list of loss. A part of me hopes they forget about my existence entirely when I'm gone but I'm going to try and savour the nine-ish months I have left with them for now. I hope that when I'm gone, I will find solace in the fact that these memories will always live deep within me, for their stories have now become inextricably intertwined with my own.
**********************************************************************************************************************************
I sincerely hope that by sharing a little bit of my story, I have made you think a little bit about the things that make you feel happy and fulfilled. You know that thing? That thing just entered your mind when you read the sentence above? Chase it. Chase it relentlessly and with all your heart.
- Nehmat
Phew, I feel emotionally drained but there is a sudden lightness in my chest. This has been sort of therapeutic I guess. Also sorry for such a long post. I think I was just taking advantage of not being restrained by a word limit hahahah. I'm half dead at this point if you're wondering - it's 4am- so I will stop rambling for your might not come back here If I continue any longer.
[Just before writing this post, I was having a read through my blog and for some weird reason the other 80% of my last post isn't uploading . I've been trying to figure out why or the past half hour but to no avail. Here's hoping that this full post appears without any missing parts because it's probably the most important thing I've written thus far. ]I know I originally said that this was supposed to be a foreign policy and economics blog, but I don't want solely want it to be that anymore. It can't be personal if you're not hearing about all the things I care about and so today I'm going to be a bit more introspective. I've largely only discussed these moments with my close circle, just because I regard it as a very personal experience and not really shared my feelings so intimately with anyone ever before. I'm excited to see how they translate once I pull them out of my brain!
I was SO tired of seeing SO many heads of state and global leaders pretending to care about the refugee ' problem' and doling out false promises ( that too, only as an effort to curb external pressure) to the 'sea of faces'- ignoring the powerful stories, unbridled ambition and strong convictions that lay within that 'sea'. This is how firm handshakes can unravel entire nations when the stage is large enough. It seemed like these people who had the power to actually influence domestic policy and create initiatives to aid the people part of these various exoduses around the world, actually didn't care. I wondered where the compassion was; were there actually human beings behind the leaders I read about in the papers and watched on the news? It even made me rethink my own ambitions of entering into government or foreign service later in life. I contemplated if I would ever find myself in such a compromising position that I had to push my morals completely aside. I couldn't imagine such a bitter divorce of my morals from my work.
Please remember, I don't mean for this to be a scathing attack on various global leaders, because some of them are trying their hardest and have to act with national interests in mind. That being said in many places, including the country I live in, I do believe that the assimilation of refugees into our communities can easily by facilitated by the government. If there is will, it is possible in it's every capacity- financially, logistically, socially. I remember the Malaysian Prime-minister last year issuing a statement, directing Rohingya refugees who had arrived on our shores to " go back to their own country'. Yeah right, the country where the children can't go to school, where family members are being raped, where their homes are being burned and where they are being deprived of economic opportunities? The persecution that is occurring and the government involvement in these deaths has resulted in several human rights groups calling it a genocide of the Rohingya minority living in Myanmar. And you're saying this because " we are not prepared to accept that number coming into our shores"? That could not be more incorrect, at the time there was, and still is, plenty of room for integration and the government has the resources to support community. What infuriated me the most was the fact that these officials tried to underpin their arguments by insinuating that the people of the country do not want them. And although I am not Malaysian, I know many locals and all of them are not the ones creating this divisive rhetoric. I've had so many conversations with friends in school and the people I volunteer with, and the general sentiment has unsurprisingly been of acceptance. Some even expressed their desire to house families and give me that lift to start a new life. Anyways, I intended for this intro to be short but I got carried away. What's new.
**********************************************************************************************************************************
Over the past five years, I've worked with everyone from the Chin to the Tibetan to the Palestinian refugees. However, over the past 16 months, my experiences with the Rohingya community that has fled Myanmar for Malaysian shores, have been formative. (If you'd like, I can go in depth about their situation and more context in a later post, because I don't intend to focus on it too much in this piece). They have helped me define the kind of person I want to be and the kind of impact I want to have. I have always wanted to 'maximise impact' and create 'long term change'. And to an extent I did, I helped make those four walls with crumbling plaster, a school.But this is where myself and many volunteers in fact, go wrong. I was having a conversation about this with one of my friends who volunteered at the Skaramagas refugee camp in Greece this summer, and we were talking about when we work with this motive in our mind, we become detached from the very people we want to help. We want them to become the motors and execute this vision. We end up taking instead of giving. More on this in another blogpost, because I've haven't even scratched the surface.
And for a long time I was wrapped up in this world where I was convinced that I couldn't bring sustainable and tangible and significant change. When I was on the precipice of resignation, I found them and they found me. And for that, I could not be more grateful. The experience that ensued transformed my perspective entirely.
Every Saturday morning my lovely mum drives me an hour away so I can tutor the small community that lives under a veil of fear here ( they've all entered illegally and haven't received their unhcr cards).During the process of establishing the weekend school, I was teaching the 11 older kids singlehandedly and devising the weekly syllabus with another volunteer , but as more people have joined, I've been able to invest my time in my five gems- Halimah, Raesah, Aisyah, Wahida and Noor. And yes, revisiting simultaneous equations and tenses is not my idea of 'fun', but that's not all I came to do, because I'm not some textbook. They need me to remind them to ignore their environment which cloaks them in self-doubt, which propagates that refugees can't amount to anything because they have lost their everything. I remind them each Saturday that they can't amount to anything other than greatness and that their voices will ring throughout the world. Because these are things that I never want them to forget.
We also start the sessions with some chanting. Usually I make them repeat " Today is going to be a great day. I can and will". I have been saying it to myself every morning ever since I heard it in Gina Rodriguez's Emmy Speech. (What a joy is it to share the little things you love with the people you love isn't it? )They need me to make them repeat 'rolled' 100 times until they get their pronunciation spot on, to discuss annoying siblings or that their mum made them eat that green vegetable yesterday which tasted 'yucky', or sometimes to ask me the big, tough questions like " why do boys think we are aren't strong?". Somehow they manage to bring a sense of levity to every conversation and space they enter. I sometimes stand on the side, just feeling humbled to see them so enthusiastically engaged with so little.
And I'll tell you something else . For those three hours, the love is omnipresent. There is so much of it that it consumes me. Within the confines of those four walls, I have found laughter without abandon, kindness beyond limitation and a lust for life, despite the circumstances. Calling the girls only my students would be a lie, for they are have become far more - my confidantes, my sisters, and most of all, my teachers. And when I have to leave, I leave with a heavy heart, but only because it is so full.
I am aware that, what refugees dispersed around the world really need is the wars to end, their homes returned, and their families safe. Whilst we cannot singlehandedly give those to them, we can give them our love. A paintbrush and paper may seem negligible in the grand scheme of things, but if they can remind that one child that they are cared for and not forgotten, I believe it is worth pursuing.I think about them often. When I see the words 'refugee' coupled with 'terror', 'security'& 'threat' across headlines, my heart swells with anger and frustration. When I hear Michelle Obama's 'this is for my girls' song for her new initiative 'Let Girls Learn', my heart swells with hope and reassurance that yes, there is a global community there which is committed to empowering them. When I have to tell them that I can't come next weekend because of the SAT or a debate conference, and see their disappointed faces- my heart swells with guilt for abandoning them whilst I chase all these opportunities.
The more time I spend with my girls, the more challenging it becomes to reconcile how a whole community can been forced to become an invisible margin. How a whole community is "just left behind". The Rohingya in this sense have always been invisible- even back in Myanmar, which they consider as home, they have been ignored by past governments and the current democratically elected one as well. Can you imagine not being considered a citizen in your own country?
So I implore you to do some form of service if you aren't doing so already, because there are so many different communities out there that need you. And to so many of the youth out there - the moment you stop viewing service as a means of fulfilling that IA requirement, the blank space on your resume or a moral obligation beyond self preservation, something will happen. You will not only unearth all it's joys, but also be greeted with a deeper understanding of what it truly means to be human as well as crucial nuance to the community. Believe me.
When Raesah wrote and articulated her first sentence in English, I screamed, then she screamed. Then everyone turned because collectively that was a lot of screaming. I rushed to apologise for the disruption. She had worked her way all the way up from square one, from using hand gestures to google translate to inventive mime, she had made it. And I know it was hard for her. I couldn't contain my pride- it must have been emanating from each pore in my skin. Looking back, I feel so fortunate to have been a part of this moment because these are the moments that matter and always will.
I also remember the time I had to bid farewell to Shahina, one of the most motivated and driven 13 year olds I have ever seen, earlier this year. A few months prior, her father had prohibited her from attending the school on the weekend because he had gotten into an argument with Ustaz ( the leader of the community who acts as our bridge). I had panicked because I thought it was because she was getting married, it had happened to other girls in the community here after all. I remember frantically asking Ustez what had happened and to make things right so that she could come back.Then just a month later, the family's 10 year long wait ended as their resettlement request to the U.S was approved. They were leaving in under a fortnight. 'Bittersweet' suddenly had a whole new, abrasive meaning. She would have so many opportunities there, a good education and so much more stability. Yet, I found it impossible to conceal my dejection; two tears managed to escape my guarded eyes. I promised to visit in Georgia as I tightly embraced her one last time. Could someone not give me a little bit more time with her?
No one ever told me letting go was this hard. I'm even less prepared for the ones that I'll have to carry out myself.
Like leaving the rest of the girls next year for university when they have already been robbed of so much. I fear I will transform to just another entry on their endless list of loss. A part of me hopes they forget about my existence entirely when I'm gone but I'm going to try and savour the nine-ish months I have left with them for now. I hope that when I'm gone, I will find solace in the fact that these memories will always live deep within me, for their stories have now become inextricably intertwined with my own.
**********************************************************************************************************************************
I sincerely hope that by sharing a little bit of my story, I have made you think a little bit about the things that make you feel happy and fulfilled. You know that thing? That thing just entered your mind when you read the sentence above? Chase it. Chase it relentlessly and with all your heart.
- Nehmat
Phew, I feel emotionally drained but there is a sudden lightness in my chest. This has been sort of therapeutic I guess. Also sorry for such a long post. I think I was just taking advantage of not being restrained by a word limit hahahah. I'm half dead at this point if you're wondering - it's 4am- so I will stop rambling for your might not come back here If I continue any longer.
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