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I think that many refugees live lives of paradox. They are among the most vulnerable and yet the most strong and courageous of people. They make the difficult decision to leave their homes, their families, their cultures, and everything that is familiar to them, not because they want a better income or a bigger house or a better job, but because their lives are in danger. They do not wake up one morning and say "Oh, I think I'd like to move to Canada (or wherever)." They wake up and think, "If I do not leave the home I love, RIGHT NOW, my family and I will die." They flee, in fear of their lives, to places where they are not welcome, that are already overcrowded with other refugees, but at least they are a tiny bit safer than they were before. They hope and pray that either their homelands will become safe again, or that they will find another home where they can live in safety and peace. They leave family that they love, who, in all likelihood, they will never see again. They cannot go back for a vacation, or to see a dying parent, or for weddings.
Some refugees come from poor or disadvantaged backgrounds. But many of them come from lives that were, at one time, good. They had jobs, homes, things to look forward to in their lives. They had choices. They never dreamed that one day they would have to leave all that behind. Some of them have to leave in a hurry, in the middle of the night, taking only what they can carry with them. Some of them are born and raised in refugee camps, children of refugees, and know no other life.
If they are very lucky, they can register as refugees with the UNHCR, and then, they have a shot at being selected for resettlement in a new country. But that's only if they are refugees outside their home country. There are millions of people who have left their homes but are still within the borders of their home country, and these displaced people are not considered “refugees” under UNHCR guidelines.
In 2018, Canada settled the highest number of refugees of any country in the world -- 28,100 – followed by a slight increase to 29,950 refugees in 2019. That's great, and we can be proud of that for the most part (I won't go into problems with how the government does or does not assist refugees once they arrive; also, if you are a student of Canadian history, you will know that despite official government rhetoric, Canada has not always been the most welcoming nation, and in fact, has a strong history of racism and exclusionary policies with it comes to refugees and immigration... but that’s another story). But in today’s context, before we get too smug and self-satisfied, consider this: that figure represents only about 1.1% of the world’s refugee population, if my math is correct. Current statistics from the UNHCR (https://www.unhcr.org/figures-at-a-glance.html) show that as of last year, there are almost 80 million -- MILLION! -- people displaced by war and violence. 26 million of them are refugees (i.e. they have left their countries of origin), and HALF of those are children under the age of 18.
Some refugees live in refugee camps. If you think living in a refugee camp is easy, I challenge you to do some research; there are many videos online that will take you to directly there (Za’atari, Kakuma, and Dadaab are three of the largest camps). Refugees are not given “free passes.” They are not “economic migrants.” Many of them face years living as refugees. Many of them do not have legal standing in their host countries, so they are not able to work or to send their children to school. Some of them live in fear of being beaten by hostile residents, or worse, being deported back to the countries they came from, where some of them are executed. People who are displaced from their homes but have not left their countries face many of the same situations as refugees: overcrowding, lack of employment, fear, death.
Refugees often wait for years before they are resettled in countries like Canada. They face many obstacles – long wait times in host countries, difficulties that come from not having the proper official papers, expiration dates for medical and security screening, and often times, illegal demands for money from those who are supposed to be helping them. When they apply for resettlement with the UNHCR, refugees are screened for security and medical purposes. Then, once Canada indicates an interest in them, they are screened again by Canadian government officials. CSIS checks for security issues, including all affiliations, and criminal records, and refugees receive medical exams. If everything is satisfactory, the visa office can accept them as permanent residents. It sounds simple, but it isn’t; it can take years, and medicals and security clearances can be expensive if they have to be redone every two years because the government has moved too slowly.
Often, they do not choose the country where they will settle, and sometimes they arrive in their new country not knowing anything about it. When they arrive, they are allowed the same amount of luggage as any other traveller. There is no opportunity to pack up their possessions and ship them later. It is a humbling experience to stand in an airport arrivals area and realize that the middle-aged couple you are welcoming has all of their worldly possessions, their entire life, in 4 suitcases.
We can do better. First and foremost, we can educate ourselves about refugees, asylum seekers (which I haven’t dealt with here), displaced persons, and the issues surrounding them. Second, we can support policies that will end war and conflict. That includes things like food security, disarmament, poverty, women and girls, and tolerance. Third, we can financially support organizations that work with refugees overseas. Fourth, we can make the issues concerning refugees personal by doing what we can to support refugees in our communities, and by building relationships with people who have come to Canada as refugees, and hearing their stories. And there is so much more.
Today, and every day, I honour those that I have come to know who have lived this paradox, who have been so vulnerable and yet whose lives are filled with resilience, strength and courage, and more than anything, who share their joy and generosity with people like us who already have more than we need. I honour my friends Soz and Nizar and their children, and Nokar. I honour Ahmet and Feride, Jafari and Mwaliasha and their children, and Kintu. I honour Maluk, Maisaa, Debbie, Shinda, Jabar, and so many others. And I thank them for everything they have taught me about life, love, and joy.
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