A long breath is needed to change societies. Welcoming strangers is nothing you do by snapping your finger and pop, it happens: former strangers become friends and do not feel excluded anymore. It needs safe places and continuity. Alena Fendrychova runs one of these places in Prague:
Alena Fendrychova: Welcoming strangers in Prague
Ljudmila from Siberia. Nastja from Ural. Marwa from Syria. Eva from Iraq. Mohamad from Sudan. Hanna from Lebanon. Marja from Ukraine. Iva from China. Ahmed from Iraq. Ljuba from Russia…and the others.
Behind these names there are people, women and men. People from different countries who came to Czech Republic to find their new home. Some are refugees, some economic migrants, some married a Czech partner. Someone arrived recently, others have lived here for a long time. Some are Christians, some are Muslims, some do not have any faith.
We meet every Wednesday afternoon for Kafe Obýváček (Cosy Coffee). Seemingly nothing big or important is happening here. We sit around a table, eat some cake, drink tea and coffee and talk. We play board games. We hear personal stories. We remember how we went to school and compare how it varies in different countries and at different times. We look at the photos. We recite poems. We speak…
What attracts people to join the group? It could be a steadiness; we organise a meeting every week no matter what. It is about acceptance; everybody is welcomed. It is in the openness and friendly atmosphere. It is an opportunity to come out of the isolation many foreigners face in the Czech Republic.
And some people have their personal reasons to come. Ahmed is an old man, in Iraq he was an important person, a professor at a University. He was used to giving lectures to the whole auditorium, students were hanging on his every word. In the Czech society he is just an old man addicted to social benefits. But here in the group he is important for the others. He has a place to come and to be heard.
Ljudmila has lived in Czech Republic for sixteen years. For twelve years she worked without papers, and she was detained several times. She does precarious work, and after sixteen years she still has no permanent residence. She has no Czech friends, she is just another “labour migrant”, the smallest of the small. But here in the group she is important for the others. She has a place to come and to be heard.
Ljuba is an old lady. She comes nearly every Wednesday. During the meeting she does not speak a lot. The barriers are too high, both those of language and the age. But at the end of each meeting Ljuba says – “you are my family. I will come again.”
I wish our society could be like that. To be open to strangers, respect the difference. We need dialogue, where people hear and respect each other.
St Andrews Refugee Service (StARS) in Cairo, Egypt
Christie Manisto reflects on Matthew 5: 1-11 The Beatitudes: Blessed to action
These words of blessing from Jesus spoken from a mountaintop are not commandments to be meek, they are not a call to be passive, they are statements of fact and words that call for action— a call to get up and go be a part of God’s action. Jesus is proclaiming God’s vision to the world where all are the recipients of God’s blessing. A hope for a world through Jesus turned upside down where “weakness is powerful and peacemakers thrive and persecution is a site for blessed transformation.”1 Promises for the raw spaces in our world and in our hearts, a poetic invocation that lifts up those who are suffering and are in need of wholeness and God’s grace. That calls people of faith to see suffering in this world and respond with real action and a boldness in spirit. Challenging the powers that create poverty, displacement and despair.
St Andrews Refugee Service (StARS) in Cairo Egypt is such a place that answers Jesus call to blessed action. Walking with people such as Amira and her family who face the reality of displacement in every facet of society. When the Syrian war forced them to move to Cairo, Ameria expected hard times, not malice. But after watching Ahmed, her ten-year-old son, come home from Egyptian public school with dirty clothes a few days in a row, she got suspicious. When he came home with a few scratches and hair disheveled, Amira pried past Mohamed’s reluctance to speak about his day. It turned out that months of harassment from his peers had culminated in a few of them beating him up after school. Within the week Amira removed Mohamed and his sister from this school and placed them in an educational centre run by Syrian refugees called Watten. Watten means “homeland” in Syrian Arabic, and that’s just how it felt to Amira when she first arrived. In the Egyptian schools her children fell behind as peers teased them and as they struggled to understand their teachers’ Arabic.
At Watten she noticed their confidence growing. As fellow Syrian refugees, students and teachers are almost friends there, partners in a mission to make it through Cairo as best they can. Because Watten does not receive significant external funding, Syrian families must pay tuition fees out of their own pocket – about 1000 Egyptian pounds per semester, per child. After one year of scraping together the fees, Amira was hit by a minibus and broke her leg just before her children’s second year began. Two surgeries failed to improve her knee injury, and unable to work, she lost her job. Because their family could not spare her husband’s income past living expenses, she feared her kids would have to either return to the Egyptian school, or drop out entirely. StARS coordinated a grant with Watten that awarded her 1,000 Egyptian pounds to pay for her children’s education. Today both her children continue to attend Watten, and she says they keep coming home with more words to share, in English and in Arabic. Although the effects of her injury – a fattening body, the loss of her working identity, the threat of disease – still bring tears some nights, she’s deeply grateful StARS could fill the gap. “My only hope is that my children might live as children,” she says, “not as people suffering.”
What does it mean to say we are “blessed?”
In what ways have these words of Jesus been interpreted in our society? Are all interpretations helpful? How have they been hurtful?
How through our action can we be a blessing in our communities and in our world?
Lebanon: A story from Embrace the Middle East
Our partners at Tahaddi health centre help some of Lebanon’s poorest families to get the healthcare they would otherwise go without. They work in an overcrowded and poor neighbourhood where Lebanese and Syrian people face poverty, insecurity and dangerous living conditions. Tahaddi not only provides 1,000s of medical appointments each year, but also offers financial assistance to those struggling with hospital bills.
A story from our partner
Sama is a 33-year-old Syrian woman who is married with 4 children, one girl who is 11, and three boys aged 9, 7, and 4. She lives at home with her family, but her youngest son lives with her uncle. They escaped Syria during the war 7 years ago, and came to Hay El Gharbeh 4 years ago.
Sama’s house has two rooms: a kitchen and a bathroom. The house is dark with very little access to direct sunlight. The roof also leaks, letting water in when it rains.
Sama’s family lives in Hay El Gharbeh, a poor and overpopulated neighbourhood in Beirut. Hay El Gharbeh is an underserved area, where residents do not have adequate access to basic necessities like drinking water, electricity and basic infrastructure. Syrian refugee families and Lebanese of Dom live side by side due to the affordability of housing in the area. The majority of residents live in overcrowded structurally unsafe housing. Because many of these dwellings have corrugated metal sheets for roofs they are not protected against extreme weather conditions. Few families have access to a kitchen, with the majority of families instead relying on countertop burners to prepare their food.
Those around Sama say she is very sociable and loving. She is very caring to those around her. She goes out of her way to help others. She loves to care for garden and tend to her plants. She cares about having to have a nice space around her and is always trying to tidy and create a nice ambiance in her home. Her dream is to learn to read and write, and she shares that her hobby is to learn whatever she can.
For years, Sama felt very tired and fatigued. She visited the Tahaddi Health Centre on and off but often missed follow-up appointments. Three months ago, Sama came urgently to the THC after fainting. The THC discovered she had severe hypothyroidism and severe anaemia. Sama received intensive follow-up from the social work and medical team who arranged treatment for her. This treatment was subsided through this project.
Prior to this, due to lack of funds, Sama found difficulty in getting the medical treatment she urgently needed. The family struggled daily to make ends meet. Her husband works as a shoe shiner and cleaner, and summer season is difficult since fewer people wear closed shoes. Before she fell sick, Sama used to go with her husband to the streets of Beirut and sell tissue boxes to passing cars. She would often take her daughter with her. Given the summer season and her not being able to work, they were often very short on money and were late paying their rent.
None of Sama’s children entered school or have any form of education. Sama tried to enrol them multiple times but something would always come up. Three months ago, she registered her children in educational activities, where they participated for 1 week, until she got sick again. Due to her illness, she was no longer able to drop them and pick them up. She also needed her 11-year-old daughter’s help in the home.
Sama is now a regular visitor at the THC. The THC was able to diagnosis her illness. The THC cover her diagnostic and ER expenses, paying for her medicine and all other medical tests, in addition to regular check-ups. She still feels faint from time to time, an issue the THC follows up on and works on improving. However, all-in-all, Sama is feeling much better and stronger. At some points she could barely walk very short distances, now she can finally take care of herself. “I feel much better after being followed up by Tahaddi” she says, “so many different things have changed now because of the help I am receiving”. Sama feels more at ease now with herself after the treatment.
Lebanon: A story from Embrace the Middle East
Our partner JCC (Joint Christian Committee), the Lebanese branch of DSPR (the Department of Service to Palestinian Refugees) works in Dbayeh refugee camp, 12 km north of Beirut. The camp was originally built in 1952 to accommodate Palestinian refugees, but the ongoing Syrian crisis has led to an influx of Syrian refugees and Palestinian refugees from Syria in the camp. It is overcrowded and jobs are scarce, so resentment and frustration are always close to the surface. JCC’s community centre provides space and peace in this challenging environment. Children and adults can find a library, craft workshops, language classes, job training, life skills courses and even summer carnivals to bring the community together.
A story from our partner
Many Syrian families who have taken refuge in Lebanon share the same living quarters so as to afford the rent. In the Dbayeh camp many of these Syrian refugee families seek to do the same. And so 5 year old Syrian refugee Ghulam and his 6 year old cousin Adnan find themselves sharing the same house in Dbayeh camp where they have been for the last year. Their parents were unable to get them into school as the government schools were already full and the private schools were too expensive for them. The neighbours did not allow their children to play with these boys and so the boys were left on their own. In the beginning, their parents did not worry as they saw the two boys playing together and thought they were not in need of anybody else. But, as time passed, the parents felt the lack of playmates in their boys’ lives and realized that they had to do something. Asking other Syrian neighbours and explaining their situation, they were told about the JCC Library/ Community Centre.
Once they knew about this Centre and its activities, and that the Centre receives all children no matter what the nationality or religion is, they didn’t hesitate to come. They came; attended programs, gathered information and enrolled their children in the different activities, and even the women enrolled in some activities.
In the beginning the children were afraid to talk to anybody or socialise with anybody. They stuck together. They gave their mothers much trouble in coming to the Centre. But, as the activity leaders showed them affection and encouraged other children to play with them, the boys began to relax and showed joy as they joined the numerous activities carried out for children of their age. As time passed, and with the love they experienced from the JCC children and leaders, they came to JCC with enthusiasm. At present, JCC is the only place they go to which has made a big change in their lives.
They are now happy children, have gained many friends and are learning a lot. This has also made an impact on the lives of their parents who have become happier and more relaxed
Home
When they left,
they didn’t know their destination.
All they knew was
that they had never felt such longing before.
They had seen this star.
And they decided to follow it. Crazy, many said.
Now they are here, in this foreign country,
and there is nothing that would be familiar to them:
not the language, not the religion, nor the smells and sounds.
And yet, they still feel they will find their home here.
Redemption.
Even if they cannot explain exactly what they mean. When they ask for the new-born child, the king, people gave them the cold shoulder. The people see their strange clothes, hear their accents, always looking up at the stars.
A king? Outside the city? Impossible!
But there is an uncertainty in the people’s hearts.
What, if they are right? They leave the city behind. Holding their gifts firmly in their hands, the most precious, the most holy, the dearest they have. They trust the star which brought them all the way here.
And who will lead them further on.
To the unknown God.
Heimat by Susanne Niemeyer, according to Mt 2, 1-12, from: ach! Das kleine Buch vom großen Staunen, Hamburg: Andere Zeiten e. V., 2013
Birthday
Fiona Kendall
She sat in the scruffy office, mistrusting.
For so long now, her life had been scarred by betrayal.
Her feisty spirit; her rejection of long-held truths; her refusal to stay silent
Were not welcome in her society nor, indeed, in her own family.
Hers was not behaviour befitting of a woman;
She learned early that all that she thought, did and said was “haram”.
Her male relatives told everyone she was shameful
And, when the war came, people could do what they liked.
The marriage was arranged to restore honour to the family
And, since he lived elsewhere, to get her out of the way.
Away, where she could not influence her mother or her sisters.
Away, where her ideas would cease to challenge the old order.
But she wanted none of it.
She fled to another place where she thought she could be safe
But her new friendships with Westerners,
People not of her kind,
People who might be cast as spies,
Caught the eye of the authorities.
The men would come to her flat unannounced,
Sometimes in civilian clothes, sometimes in military uniform.
She understood that the she had to let them in.
“Aren’t you scared we’ll plant something?” they called,
as they searched her small bedroom for the fortieth time.
She would come home from work to find they had been there.
Despite the locked door, they left signs to tell her:
Cigarette butts, their mess in the toilet;
Reminders that they were in control.
She did her best to endure that,
And the casual violence that came with it,
But when her best friend was picked up,
Imprisoned,
Without trial,
She knew she had to flee again, this time much further.
And now, in a faraway land
She sat in the scruffy office, mistrusting
But hoping.
“When were you born?” they asked her.
“Two weeks ago,” she replied, “ when I made it here.
If Parables Mean Nothing
Lucy Berry
If parables mean nothing
then we could go ahead,
and pass by; offering no room,
no medicine, no bed.
If Bible now means nothing,
tell Joseph to go home
and tell the pregnant Mary
she never should have come.
If all of it all means nothing
then we can close the door
on ancient ways of welcome
that we believed before,
and write to Abram and his wife
and tell them of the danger,
the foolishness, the silliness,
of welcoming the stranger;
and email Jesus right away
and, gently, tell him how
the hungry and the naked
just aren’t our business now.
If what He said means nothing,
just throw away the Book,
for it has no authority
and we are off the hook.
But if the things He told us
still mean good news to you,
then open up your hearts, minds, arms –
for there is loads to do!
Waves
Lucy Berry
No-one’s arriving in waves;
but on waves of terror and hope.
Who will they see if they land
who might throw them a rope?
Old waves, so oil-black, so high,
so bitterly huge in the channel
offering waterlogged death
if you can’t take the tunnel.
Fathom on fathom beneath
of sickening water to harm them,
waves freezing, queasy and deep;
and no saviour to calm them.
Fast flowing water at night
few scared and despaired people brave.
And if they should get to this land,
who will give them a wave?
Foreigner
But he had to go through Samaria. John 4:4
He could have chosen the longer route,
But for some reason, he didn’t.
He chose to go through
A strange land.
They told Him there would be bandits,
Robbers, no gooders
Who would strip Him of His clothes,
His possessions,
His pride. (Or was it theirs that troubled them?)
They told Him that
‘nothing good comes out of that place’
That it was
‘safer to stick with our own folks’.
The woman he met, though,
Was humble, generous and kind.
She gave him water from her sacred well.
And they talked. Of thirst. Of deep wells. Of living water. Of springs gushing up to eternal life.
And although her people and His usually kept each other at arm’s length,
and although their history, their rituals, their language were different –
there was a shared need for a new life that drew them together
as strangers, no longer, but friends.
From Stories of Encounter, Saint Andrew Press.
Amude, Syria
Ahmed Tamo (aged 19)
In Amude I was born
I played football there
Every day
But my first home
The first land
In which I lived
Was my mother
In Germany I would like
To marry a German woman
I want the opportunity
To see my own children grow up
Ahmed, a Kurd, came to Berlin from Syria. He lives in a shipping-container camp on the Tempelhofer Feld. After school he would like to train as a mechanic.
