Talking with the young adults in the camp, I was again
reminded of how arbitrary much of a culture can be. It’s hard to see it when you are living it; it’s
not until you take a step back and try to explain it to someone with
essentially no shared background that you realize how strange your customs can
be. I feel as though I have this
experience often as I travel around and it always surprises and humbles me
before putting things back into perspective and extending my compassion. In this particular instance, I was answering
questions about how the American education system works. The youth couldn't understand a system where
age carries so more weight than skill level when determining classes, which, if
you ask me, isn't an unreasonable argument.
I can see both sides (though I would tend to side more with the refugees
to some degree).
Cultural differences aside, life in Kakuma is difficult. Over and over I heard about a lack of
resources. Youth talked about not being
able to go to school for lack of space, foster parents lamented their ability
to get enough clothing and otherwise support their children. The camp helps to meet these basic needs, but
there is never enough to give everything to everyone in the endless stream of
refugees pouring in. And, just as in any
society, the people here face a variety of social pressures. Youth are teased for being different or
coming up for resettlement before their friends. Foster parents are discriminated against socially
and sometimes passed over for resettlement because of the difficulties in
resettling a family with a foster child.
Throughout all of these conversations, I felt like the most
important word here was hope. The hope
of getting out someday, either returning home or going to a new country, is
what carried everyone forward each day. Without
that, I think it would be too difficult.
That said, many had a relatively positive perspective on their current
situation. Those that remembered living
through conflict recognized that being here was better than being there. At least in Kakuma they aren’t hiding in the
bush starving, constantly running. Here they
are safe and have steady food. It’s not
home, and nothing is ever as good as home, but at least it’s safe.
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