Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
How Do We Approach Advocacy at JRS?
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'Helping Hands' by Alec
Peever (2011)
photo by Snapshooter46 from Foter.com
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Advocacy is part of JRS’ threefold mission, along with accompaniment and service. Here is a short reflection that shares some of the important characteristics of “Ignatian” advocacy, that staff member Kate has found helpful as presented by Jesuit Frank Turner SJ.
In the same way that we treat each refugee who comes to JRS with dignity and respect, our advocacy work is shaped by values that are the foundation for our whole mission. When engaging policy or decision-makers, we try to start with an attitude that assumes acceptance of the other person, even if we do not accept their position, so our dialogue retains the relationship whilst raising specific concerns. It is too easy to reject or be dismissive of someone else who is working in government or a public service.
In a similar way, a Jesuit approach to advocacy looks at both rescue of individuals who are suffering and the structure of injustice within society as a whole, thereby seeking a common good. We are not lobbying for our own interests, and want to show that a solution, e.g. for us as the host community is not possible without dignity for all. And when speaking about the perspective of those who might be “oppressed” or “excluded”, we do not label or objectify and where possible we always promote refugees themselves to speak. If it is only safe for us do so, we speak out only where we are connected through our service, so our advocacy is action based, not in the form of intellectual positions.
We hope that our dialogue with decision-makers and fellow campaigners comes with an openness - almost a spiritual attitude - that recognises that truth and goodness come from unexpected places. To do this, we try to create spaces for encounter and mutual meeting, rooted in community, honesty and information sharing. This comes with wisdom and clarity of message. So, at JRS, we try to ensure that our advocacy is both prophetic and pragmatic, holding up principles and seeking practical improvements in lives of those we are working on behalf, moving towards right relationship and reconciliation for refugees and all of us.
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A Poem
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| Photo by Dunbar Gardens, Fotor.com |
One of our refugees, Momodu wrote a poem titled Tuesday. Tuesday is not Sunday, Friday, or Monday. Shall we listen to what he has to say about this day of the week?
Tuesday be lucky
by Momodu
Tuesday be lucky
wake me up stronger
let me catch bus on time
make me not worry
Tuesday be lucky
let me strong
and keep long in the street
bring me knowledge
Tuesday be lucky
day of hardwork
take me safely on my journey
bring not any rain
Tuesday be lucky
let my talent show
bring me peace
Tuesday be lucky
you help me with my day
my day bless
and now I can rest
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Let Us Listen to Your Voices: Keep Calm and Send the Feedback In!
Dear Readers,
This week, JRS-UK community blog wants to ask you about how you think of our blog. Since 2013, we have been posting different stories from our JRS-UK community members: refugees, volunteers, and staff. We try to include various voices that constitute our JRS UK community.
Among different stories in our blog, what post do you like most and why? What kind of stories would you like to hear? We would like to listen to your opinions. Please feel free to send in your feedback by emailing us at uk@jrs.net.
Thank you very much!
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Poem for This Month, February
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| Photo by Robert Couse-Baker from Foter.com |
One of our refugees, Charles, wrote a poem about this month, February.
The Month of February
by Charles
The month, the contrasting month of February
You are the shortest month of year
You can be long short rainy or wintry
I saw a thousand souls falling in love
On your fourteenth day
I saw a thousand souls proposing
Wedding on your twenty ninth day
The month of February the lovely month of February
You are the month that determines
How the year would be
You are the month that says
This the gap year to be
You are the month of love and lovers
Now, Valentine’s time has come
We will roses being sold exponentially
We will cards being sold at any corners for some
I don’t know how much longer
I can stay as bachelor
The month of February always
Reminds me that there is something wrong
The month of February is not poor
So Carpe Diem, married, single, rose bearers and rose sellers
February you make the world covered with roses once for all
But February you are also a month of battles and cryers
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Advent, Christmas 2014
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| Photo by lednichenkoolga from foter.com |
Sister Marguerite, a
volunteer with JRS, reflects on joy and suffering at this special time of
Christmas.
Today
is Gaudete Sunday, a day of rejoicing,
of joy as we await the birth of
Jesus. So many thoughts run through my mind as I write. Pope Francis’ Apostolic
Encyclical, ‘Evangelli Gaudium’, the Joy
of the Gospel, the Joy of the Good News, calls me and challenges us to
be people of joy. But how can there
be joy when there is so much suffering
and conflict in our beautiful but broken world right now? One has only to
turn on the TV or read the newspapers about Syria ,
Iraq
Paradox
of suffering suffused with joy, of joy embracing suffering. It
is just over two years now since I started volunteering with the Jesuit Refugee
Service. Only yesterday the person I had been visiting at the detention center was
deported, the pain of walking with
him in his suffering. But I need to
balance it with the wonderful surprise of a phone call last week from another
who was given permission to stay, her refugee status granted and inviting her
home for a meal to celebrate and share in her joy. Another courageous young man with astounding faith is still
in a detention centre. Paradoxically, instead of draining my energy, visiting
him gives me life. A terrific life example of one suffering intensely but with such faith and courage that brings a
deep joy in embracing his cross.
They,
each one, edify and challenge me and give me much, much more than what I am or
try to do for them. And yet, so many are still smiling amidst their suffering,
some for long years and wow! Their faith and courage are amazing. I would
probably have crumbled if I were in their shoes. ‘I see better now and my eyes hurt.’ (Audre Lorde). To keep believing
that God has become human, He knows, He understands and He is in everything,
both our joys and our sufferings. To learn again the great
paradox that the deeper the pain carved,
the more radiant the joy. In today’s
reading at Mass, the prophet Isaiah is also speaking to me and all of us, ‘He
has sent me to bring good news to the
poor, to bind up hearts that are broken…I
exult for joy in the Lord.’ Meister
Eckhart said, ‘What good is it to me for our Creator to give birth to His Son,
if I do not also give birth to Him in my place, my time, my culture?’
As
Christians prepare to mark Christ’s birth we can find ways to be more aware of
God’s presence in our world and our own lives right here and now! May God grant
us the grace to learn to be more aware of Her/His incarnate presence in
everyone and every experience, in joy and
in suffering. Let us pray earnestly
for peace which our world is in such need of today. May the Prince of Peace
give me, you, all people, peace in our hearts and homes, which will flow out to
our communities and the whole world. A Peace which only God can give, peace in
times of joy and especially in times of suffering. Joy to the world, the Prince
of Peace has come!
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A Poem - Cold and Rain
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| A photo by Elvis Payne from Foter.com |
Cold and Rain
by Muler
Cold and rain
is my patience
because it remind me
my past experiences.
Cold and rain
Is my experiences
For many reasons.
Cold and rain
Is my frustration
Because he is madness.
Cold and rain
He give me bad welcome
when I wake up on the morning.
Cold and rain
he is the one reminded me
my friends on my time
been sleeping on the street.
Cold and rain
he is my best friend
because he always is with me.
Cold and rain
when I think of you
I always remember
London. When I think of you
I think of London.
Cold and rain
You give hope when you show
You for light
Like the light on the fridge.
To me it is not be my part.
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Poem - In London
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| London Eye - by Christopher Chan |
Charles wrote a poem about this city London.
In London
by Charles
In a place where I thought that Big Ben is the best sight to see.
In a place where I thought that Buckingham Palace is the best castle to see.
In a place where I saw green because Wimbledon tournament is on grass and green.
In a place where I thought, women are powerful, because the ruler is a Queen.
In a place where women can choose regardless of their background, as dear Princess Diana did.
But London, with Hooliganism, you gave us the impression that you are not immaculate.
But London, you start your shy revolution with Protestantism.
But London, you gave us the impression that you are the best place to acquire education.
Although you, London are welcoming, life is hard in you.
Although you, London are very tolerant, racism still exists.
Although you, London are equal, competition is tough – London, you may have saved some lives but you did not save our soul.
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A Poem dedicated to JRS
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| Above: The Parents - Woodcut by Kathe Kollwitz(1867-1945) |
The following poem titled 'Refugees' is written by Fr Patrick Purnell SJ, especially for JRS. The poet gives us a vivid picture of refugees with a dignified voice despite their agonising situations.
Refugees
by Patrick Purnell SJ
Stealthily, we moved from the edges,
Drawn by dreams of plenitude,
Leaving our homes at the margins
Of the deserted flatlands,
Where nothing grows
And what we had of wheels and cogs
Grow rust and harbour cobwebs.
It was fear that urged us on,
Hacking at our hearts,
Fear of the demented power,
That fed upon its own illusions
And cut the naval string
Which bound us to our Tribal Story.
We were stripped at gunpoint
At the precise point of intersection
Between what passed as frontier of the
Nations.
We carry nothing with us
But the golden memories
Of a love that had once
Bound us together as a people,
The incense of a gifted race
Which had ministered a fruitful land for a thousand years
And we carry, like a sacrament,
The myrrh of our Nation’s woundedness
In which is mixed the wisdom of our ancestors.
This is who we are.
These are our gifts,
As we stand before your walls
And if this is not enough
To gain entry to your land,
Let the sun come down
Upon our dry bones
And the moon carve us a grave.
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My Name
When did your name change
From a proper noun to a charm?
It’s three vowels like
Jewels on the thread of my breath.
Its consonants brushing
My mouth like a kiss
I love my name
I say it again and again in this summer,
I see it it, discreet in the alphabet,
Like a wish
I pray it into the night
Till the letters are light
I hear my name
Rhyming, rhyming
Rhyming with everything.
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Nothing can stop you to become what you want to be
I did not know if I would be able to study this year as it was so expensive. I was so desperate to study this year, I did not believe I would be able to continue my course. Inside of me I was not sure, where could this money come from?
Last year I got a reduction in my college fees, as even if someone wanted to help me, the fees would still be a lot. So when I went to the college and showed them that there were people who would help me to study and explained to them my situation: as an asylum seeker, I am not working, I do not get benefits… so they gave me a 50% less, but this year they could not give me the discount.
I showed Louise at JRS how much they asked me to pay this year. But Louise said, why you are stressing too much? Don’t worry! I was stressed, but she made me not stressed… this time I felt it would not work, but she was very comfortable that we could do something. Let’s just try, she said, so we started to make applications.
Last week when I came for help from Jonathan, I had to come early, I really wanted to study! So I put my alarm at 6am, as I did not want to be late to miss my chance to see him. He was so surprised that I was so early, even at 8.30am! That day I had finished a letter and had put it in an envelope, when the message came to Louise. Louise came out of her office and said “stop, stop!” we don’t need any money, the people we first wrote to had replied.
Myself, I was very surprised, that someone who did not know me, would pay for these college fees. It solved all my problems in one go! At the same time, I was very, very shocked. I am so grateful, because when someone who does not know me would pay, just like that, I was quite touched. I wanted to cry, but I was happy at the same time. I am very, very grateful. Louise had the faith that it would be possible.
Going to college is very important for me, because in my situation, for me to continue to study means everything. It is very important, I am not isolated. If I am not doing anything, I will be thinking about my situation, about seeking asylum, it is not good for me. But at college, we are all the same, I am the same as other people, there is no barrier for me there… I am still going on with my life, nothing is lost.
This year, I will also be a team leader in my voluntary work, last year I was an ambassador there as well. I do other volunteering, mentoring, so many! Maybe when you are doing something positive, you don’t know where doing good things will lead you, I am not doing something for nothing.
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Last month my penfriend detainee disappeared
He was lost, perhaps deported. I was at a loss, someone I had come to know through the post had disappeared without my ever knowing the end or indeed the beginning of his story. As a pen befriender one is not permitted to ask about the detainee’s case or background and it would be irresponsible to ask after family, education or occupation when these lifelines have been severed. I had lost someone I would never know, yet whom I had come to cherish in my life.
My responses were those of bereavement - anger, sadness, bewilderment but also an urge to pray. My prayers were for my friend and for those who had befriended him, not least the art teacher of the detention centre who had encouraged him to create wonderful, exuberant cards, who had brought colour and life into his life. Prayers too for his future that he would be held in those arms of the Loving God we can none of us fall through.
What joy it was then to hear from the JRS intelligence network that he had been found, transferred to another unit in this country. Joy mixed with anger when I reflected on how someone could be disappeared by a people management system that needs to keep its statistics in good order.
And then a greater joy that dissolved all anger and created only compassion and thanks. A letter, or rather another exuberant card arrived from my friend addressed from his new detention centre, together with a printed message that someone, somewhere had helped him to write. His courage and love of life shine through, but can this story of one man contribute anything to the stories of unknown thousands displaced across the world?
I am reminded that there are many people out there involved in managing refugees, some, like the unknown art teacher are evidently good people helping detainees to be individuals not numbers, and it is not only the captives, but also all the captors who need our prayer.
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I can show people what it is like to be destitute
Destitute
Each journey entails a hundred possibilities.
I have been thinking of a safe place
When
Feeling my fatherland to this land,
When
Leaving my motherland this land.
But when I reached to this foreign land,
I saw myself in no man’s land,
I saw myself living in Alexander Island
In Antarctica.
A place where no one want to live,
But is the place where I live,
My new home.
Not Just Another Statistic
Thirty seven years, or so we are told, is the time it will take to clear the backlog of immigration cases. Thirty seven years if we continue work at the current rate and if no new cases are filed.
This is just the sort of statistic that both shocks me as a reader and numbs me. How can I take on this statistic when so many others about other dreadful issues follow in its wake? What can I possibly do about a 37 year waiting list?
Writing a letter each week to a man I know nothing about, in a detention centre I can hardly imagine, is a seemingly negligible response, and yet through the pen-friend service that JRS operates, I am able to reach out, to touch and be touched in a way that makes a statistic come alive.
No discussion of politics, religion or individual cases is permitted and every letter is scrutinised by staff at the centre so each week I write about life in rural England, MOR TV, festivals and celebrations. I write in faith that my commentary will be accepted by a stranger. Every month or so I am humbled to know, through the medium of an exuberant, greetings card made in the art class at the detention centre, that my gesture has been graciously received.
Because of this one to one contact, I've found myself reading, thinking and praying about refugees, those who serve them in the host country, those they leave behind in their home countries. I've found myself getting a sense of the scale of the problem, but rather than being overwhelmed as by dry statistics, I discover greater depths of compassion and am moved to immerse myself more fully. Let us hope that by the Grace of God another thirty seven years of letter writing for this particular cause will not be needed.
