Ein Fluechtling, junger Somali um die 20, den ich bei einem Abendspaziergang treffe, fragt mich: Can I help you?
Lustig, denke ich bei mir, Du mir helfen? Nicht umgekehrt ich Dir? Wer kann mehr geben, wer weiss mehr ueber was in welchem Zusammenhang…?
Also, hm… Ja: Schoen, dass Du mich nicht brauchst, schoen, dass Du es Dir leisten kannst, Dass Du Kraft hast, Dich um mich zu sorgen, schoen, dass Du Dich um mich sorgen koenntest…Kakuma-SCHLAGZEILE 1: Fluechtling sorgt sich um JRS-Mitarbeiter.
Ein anderer Fluechtling erzaehlt mir:
I fled Sudan in 1996 because of the war. I made my way to Kakuma refugee camp across the border in north-west Kenya and was registered as a refugee.
For the first time in my life I lived among people coming from eight different nationalities and from various social, cultural and ethnic backgrounds. I almost tiptoed through the camp because I felt anxious about being confronted with so many different people, languages and features. ‘How am I going to live in peace with all these strangers,” I asked myself. ‘Which language should I use to talk to them?’
As time went on I discovered ways of interacting and communicating with them. I also realised that there were many other Sudanese in the camp with backgrounds similar to mine and my fear disappeared.
In February 2010 one of my neighbours brought a young, maybe 11-year-old boy to my house. The boy seemed abandoned and confused. I asked him where he came from, but he did not respond for half an hour. Then I tried to talk to him in the local Turkana language. He replied, so he belonged to the local Turkana tribe and was Kenyan. His name was Lopiding.
In search of food and water
After I had found a woman who helped us translate we found out that Lopiding and his uncle had walked for more than seven days from the Ugandan border to Kakuma. They were searching for food and water for their flock of goats. All they had eaten during the journey were leaves from the bushes and Lopiding had been forced to drink his urine several times. His uncle had beaten him on several occasions and there was nobody to protect him. His father had died in a river.
I took the boy home and asked my wife to prepare some food. I told Lopiding to take a bath and feel at home. We bought some clothes for him and shaved off his matted hair.
I then reported the case to the camp security and the child protection unit, who told me to host the boy while they are looking for his relatives. During the following weeks they didn’t find anyone. I started searching as well. I consulted colleagues, I looked around the camp and I considered the experience of my own flight.
Being a community leader and a trainer I finally asked myself why I can’t take care of this boy. After all he was a human being like me. So he stayed with me and my family for eight months. He even learned to say some words in my native language, Didinga.
I found out later, that Lopiding’s relatives assumed he had died and they tried to forget his existence by not mentioning his name anymore.
Found at last
In October 2010 a man from the Turkana tribe approached the primary school, which Lopiding had started attending. The man was only covered with the traditional Turkana “ashuka”, a piece of cloth which is wrapped around the hips.
Coincidentally he heard the children asking the teacher for Lopiding. The man immediately approached the teacher, demanding to see that boy. The teacher hesitated, pointing out that Lopiding was a refugee but the man insisted.
Directed by a pupil, the man finally came to my house. Lopiding was feeling unwell that day. When he saw the visitor, he got scared and locked himself in the house. The man introduced himself as Lopiding’s uncle. He left on the same day and went back to his home village at the border to tell the boy’s mother that he had been found in Kakuma. His mother was so happy about the good news that she came all the way to Kakuma to see her son.
In the meantime I had encouraged Lopiding to join his real family. At first he insisted that he had found a new father and mother in me and my wife and that there would be no food, no clothes and no education in his village. But finally he left my house with his mother and his uncle at the end of October 2010. I do not know where they have gone.
Ja , unglaublich und interessant und auf den Kopf gestellt, ver-kehrt:
In Kakuma und Umgebung gibt es Menschen, Einheimische, Turkanas, die “aermer” sind als viele Fluechtlinge: kein Zugang zu sauberem Wasser, keine Lebensmittelrationen, kein Krankenhaus… Solche Armut habe ich unter OesterreicherInnen in der “Teestube”, Verein fuer Obdachlose (http://www.obdachlose.at/teestube/) in Innsbruck vereinzelt gesehen, Menschen, die das ganze Jahr ueber irgendwo leben, ohne festes Obdach, die aermer zu sein scheinen als ImmigrantInnen, AsylantInnen…
Kakuma-SCHLAGZEILE 2: Fluechtling beherbert Einheimischen monatelang!
Literarische (und hoerbare) arm-reich Empfehlung, besonders dort, wo meine Sprache an seine Grenzen stoesst, weil die Erfahrungen ungeheuerlich, zu gross, zu massiv, zu fremd, momentan nicht fassbar, nicht verarbeitbar…scheinen. Kurt Marti geht diesen Grenzen immer wieder literarisch nach:
ein armer teufel,
so sagen wir –
von reichen teufeln
ist niemals die rede
Kurt Marti. Alles Gute zum 90. Geburtstag! Hoerbar unter: (http://oe1.orf.at/konsole?show=ondemand&track_id=265916&load_day=/programm/konsole/tag/20110130)
Und Hoerbares aus Kakuma: Aethiopische Fluechtlinge feiern ihr Weihnachtsfest, Epiphanie, musikalisch, lautstark, singend, tanzend, live-mitschnitt Hier!
Neben diesem Highlight hat das JRS-Team seine Arbeit wieder aufgenommen, unser Mental Health Programme laeuft nach der Weihnachtspause wieder auf Hochtouren, bis zu 100 geistig und mehrfach behinderte und psychisch kranke Fluechtlinge besuchen unsere 3 Centers taeglich, bin mit “human resourcing”, Stellenausschreibungen und Interviews fuer zusaetzliche MitarbeiterInnen, Trainingsvorbereitungen, Programm-ans-leider-kleinere-Budget-2011-Anpassungen, vielen Gespraechen und meetings JRS intern und mit anderen NGO’s, “staff”-Supervisionen, Diskussionen und Konzept-Erstellung zur Versorgung neuer Fluechtlinge aus Somalia und DR Congo im weit entfernten Kakuma 3 Bereich (durch mehr Hausbesuche…), Vorbereitungen von Elterngruppen, “special cases” etc… reichlich beschaeftigt.
Was keine Kakuma-Schlagzeilen macht: 40 Grad plus, starke Winde und Sandverwehungen, kein Regen im Norden Kenias seit Monaten, die Lebensmittelpreise gehen spuerbar nach oben, das Fleisch der Turkana-Ziegen wird kostbarer und (noch) zaeher, der Staub dringt durch alles Ritzen und legt sich auf mein Gesicht, sodass am Ende des Tages im Fluechtlingslager der Unterschied meiner Weisshaeutigkeit zur Schwarz- schwindet.
Danke fuer Eure gedankliche, spirituelle, finanzielle Unterstuetzung!
Kwa herini! Segen/Gutes fuer Euch!
Peter Hochrainer
PS: Wer fuer die Projekte von JRS-Kakuma spenden will:
Spendenkonto “Menschen für andere – Jesuitenaktion”
PSK KontoNr.: 7086 326
BLZ: 60 000
BIC: OPSKATWW
IBAN: AT52 6000 0000 0708 6326
Verwendungszweck “Peter Hochrainer JRS Ostafrika”
Ahsante! Danke!
