In 2006, I spent my last undergraduate summer in Rwanda on my first overseas internship. It was a difficult and amazing experience in many ways and some memories have stuck more than others.
On one occasion, my friend and I had the amazing opportunity to cross the border into Eastern DRC and fly in a little bush plane to a small town inland. It was exhilarating! And perhaps a tad ill-advised, in hindsight - we met the pilots the evening before at dinner and the town we flew to we found out later was controlled by a warlord-type. Oops.
The flight was awesome. We flew for about 30 minutes, over nothing but dense jungle; it looked like tightly packed broccoli heads. We even each got the chance to "fly" for a couple minutes. And all of a sudden we were descending and a longish dirt path appeared onto which we landed. We didn't stay long, just walked around a bit while the plane was unloaded, and off we went again. What an adventure!
A short while later, I was sitting in the office of the small faith-based organisation with which I was interning. A pastor was visiting from his town and we were chatting casually. I ended up telling him about our little DRC jaunt and how beautiful the flight was and the village we ended up in, which was called Wali Kali.
And then he said, "Ah yes! Wali Kali. I walked there once."
In 1994, when his country was being torn apart from the inside out, he gathered up a few provisions, and he and his wife and their small children had gotten out of Rwanda and walked through that broccoli head jungle. With the poisonous snakes and dangerous animals and even more dangerous rebel groups and armies.
I think that was the first time in my life I started to understand what it means to be a refugee. The lengths someone will go to and the risk they will undertake if it means they might save their children. The resilience and strength, physically, psychologically, and spiritually, it must take to make that long and uncertain journey. The desperation of needing to get out and the faith that you can find something better, something safer.
That pastor humbled me. I will probably never have the firsthand experience of having to place my child on a boat into the unknown. I am humbled by privilege. So I pray. And I try to act.
If you're interested in getting involved in refugee support, here are some links (Canada-specific):
- Overview of International agencies you can support who are involved in the Syrian refugee crisis: http://www.cbc.ca/news/trending/how-to-help-syrian-refugees-1.3215006
- Learn how you can sponsor a refugee: http://www.cic.gc.ca/english/refugees/crisis/syria-iraq/sponsor.asp#blended
- Learn about how you can become involved in Collective Sponsorship of refugees in Quebec: http://www.immigration-quebec.gouv.qc.ca/en/immigrate-settle/refugees-other/collective-sponsorship/index.html
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