As you may have noticed, it's difficult for me to blog about many of my experiences here. The thing that has come most naturally for me is to write articles about isolated experiences which give you guys a bit of idea of the situations that I am dealing with. Even still it's most definitely inadequate.
The following "poem" is something I wrote a while back after helping a refugee family move their belongings out of their apartment and into our project's "refugee safe house" after they had several frightening experiences which caused lots of anxiety and fear. Here in Quito as he was waiting in line to receive humanitarian aid, the husband of the family spotted the same person from the Aguilas Negras (paramilitary group) who had threatened to kill him in Colombia. Additionally, the mother of the husband, who is still currently living in Colombia, called the family in Ecuador saying that 2 anonymous men had knocked on her door and had asked, using the husbands full name, when he would be coming back from Quito (when the family left Colombia suddenly a few months ago, they only told 2 trustworthy family members that they were going to Quito). Apart from this, they found out that in the neighborhood where they were living among other Colombians, there were several former members of paramilitary groups (this is one of the reasons that many Colombians are afraid to interact with each other here...you never quite know who you are dealing with). It is also a difficulty for the government and for us as a aid project.
Anyhow, I dont know how much this piece will mean to you guys, but as I wrote this, each phrase came with a face, a name and a story. Everything I have written is based on my observations, experiences and accompaniment to the displaced/refugee population here in Ecuador, but this poem is certainly not nor intends to be an exhaustive list of what is means to be a Colombian refugee in Ecuador. As I wrote and reflected on people's experiences, I realized how the act of being displaced affects absolutely every aspect of one's life...I think that is what this poem reflects.
Displacement is More Than a Word
Displacement is more than a word.
it's a pickup truck full of belongings,
it's sleepless nights,
it's not leaving your house because of fear,
it's separation from family members,
it's tears shed and having no one to dry them,
it's being along,
it's a loss of one's identity,
it's not having food on your table,
it's desperation,
it's living in hiding,
it's dehumanizing,
it's begging for help,
it's uprooting roots,
it's instability,
it's changing jobs every month,
it's not trusting anyone, yet relying on strangers,
it's depression,
it's starting over and starting over again....and again,
it's searching for community,
it's hell,
it's always looking over your back,
it's the opposite of peace,
it's being afraid of even those you most love,
it's pain,
it's overwhelming,
it's feeling guilty about a situation you couldn't control,
it's the end to one life and the beginning of another,
it's feeling death on your doorstep,
it's lonely bus rides,
it's crossing foreign borders,
it's counting pennies,
it's long lines in immigration offices,
it's being "denied",
it's wondering what the meaning of "future" is,
it's doing anything to survive,
it's visits to the psychologist,
it's permanent,
it's a bad dream that you never wake up from,
it's learning to be uncomfortable,
it's sleeping on cold, hard floors,
it's working and not getting paid,
it's sharing space with others,
it's an invasion of your privacy,
it's losing loved ones,
it's haunting memories,
it's injustice,
it's being humiliated,
it's perseverance,
it's a complete lack of hope,
it's getting kicked out by your landlord,
it's losing everything,
it's saying good-bye,
it's changing your appearance,
it's paranoia,
it's feeling helpless,
Displacement is more than a word, it's a way of life for 5 million people in Colombia, hundreds of thousands seeking refuge in Ecuador and millions more around the world...
To contrast that poem a bit, here are a few beautiful photos that I took today from my window.
Hey buddy, the poem did a great job giving a glimpse of the emotionally charged situations you are dealing with. I've got a pretty polar opposite situation going on here, on Thanksgiving Day. Sitting across from me are two people, also on laptops. Today is the day that somehow became an occasion to stuff one's face with rich foods. As the years continue to pass, it feels that today is just becoming more of a prep day for Black Friday shopping in the larger American society. Which is to say that Christmas music and themes were spotted before Halloween this year. I guess the gluttony of both food and consumerism coincide in an ugly parody of the image of the Pilgrims and Native Americans eating in fellowship together,which, in itself, is a fabrication. Delving into minority history has made me quite a bit more cynical. The silver lining is that I get to spend time with family. This time of the year always makes me think of being with those I love most. I hope you are finding yourself in situations where you can feel that in Ecuador. Keep doing your incredible things. We'll be thinking of you during the holiday season.
ReplyDeleteDerek
yo d rock, thanks for the comment. glad you read the poem and that you are looking beyond the turkey on thanksgiving. things definitely look different historically from the bottom up...and that continues in todays society. it looks like there's beginning to be a massive shift in that perspective with the occupy wall street stuff, ive been fascinated watching the US news recently. i hope you had a great thanksgiving, i was definitely thinking of you guys and many others. i didnt have any turkey but i did get to hang out with friends and i made some green bean casserole that was delicious. take er easy boss, hope to talk with you soon.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the poem Dave, it's good to remember and imagine the hard realities of our neighbors. And thanks for the pictures too. The pictures and your comments reminded me of a line from a poem I just read: "in no circumstance can man be comfortable without art." The South Korean poet wrote this line in 1950, tucking it amidst her father's experience of the Korean war. Beauty and horror often come together, and finding the beauty amidst the horror is a little bit of what it means to hope. Thanks for giving us an image of both.
ReplyDeletethanks for the comment amy. i dont think ive experienced the clash of beauty and horror as much as i have here. i dont think ive had to consciously seek beauty as much as i have here in order to counter balance the horror. its an interesting feeling to feel the need to seek that therapeutic beauty that takes some weight off my shoulders....i think in the past it's been given to me at no cost. anyhow, i like that quote that you shared because im realizing that art in whatever form is to a certain extent a necessity even though it sometimes gets written off as child's play.
ReplyDeleteWhat a moving poem, David, which gives a glimpse of the nightmare so many live with. It feels like in contrast, what I have to give is less than a fish and loaf of bread. The posted comment on beauty/art reminds me that in accounts of the Soviet gulag, this is one of the things that helped people survive. Blessings in your work.
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