Dispelling Darkness

In the shroud of winter’s darkest night, before the first peek of sun’s light filters through the drape of day, hope seems to have been washed out and uncertainty appears to blanket wishful dreams. Fears and nightmares assault the mind causing body to tighten with anticipation of what it cannot fathom. Yet nothing is new under sun or moon when life’s final embers crackle, fizzle, and scar. The last grasping at what once was, the last scrabbling for lost life, gives way to submission and abandon as reality assaults the senses. Time nears its end; mortality awaits all men. A hush falls upon the whole self, a sense of unreality and disbelief.

The fighting and feinting from recent past years now ends as understanding and forlornness rise to reign in whole being. The grudging acceptance of inevitable passing of time, of heartbeat, of breath reveals the new reality. The dust of this one’s future began its last steps, its last breaths, its last thoughts.

Around the corner lies the creeping certain ceaseless canceling of creation – corporeal collapse.

The mental assault of its reality never more real than in the darkest moment of winter’s night. The hope of last sun’s rays rupturing the drapes of life soon drifts dizzily down when mind assaults that hope with the certainty of eternality’s nearness. With sudden gasp, this new and imminent reality rears its intention and nothingness makes its inevitability understood; this one’s time soon ends. Grasping and scrabbling ends. Acceptance begins to dawn within.

Still, silently biding its time comes a knowledge beyond all knowledge, beyond all reason. An understanding hard to acknowledge and accept by many until this time of nebulous in-between-ness becomes the inevitability. This oft pushed-aside reality, knowledge, and belief eases itself forward from the recesses of memory. This memory reminds of power, knowingness, and ever-presence. As it advances forward from mind’s recessive memory, a glimmer of hope, a glimpse of future, a gasping of possibility captures the remnants of corporeal body’s spirit and brightly shines hope, anticipation, and expectation. “Oh, what was that?” this one so near to winter’s eternal darkness asks? “What was that news told to me during Spring’s bright and hope-filled dawning?”

The grinding of old, unoiled wheels turns recalling from memory what someone said. The feeling of possibility springs forward giving last glimpses of hope before life’s final dawn fades away. “What was that news?” the spirit begs mind to recall. Picking through worthless words, actions, and thoughts, “There, move that detritus; I see a glorious shining!” Scrambling through stacks of senseless moments and memories, the unheard, unheeded, and unknown shines brighter until that Word is revealed in the bank of life’s detritus. The one Hope disregarded in the dizzying dance of life still shone dazzlingly even amidst forgotten goals, games, and gambits. Gazing upon this unheeded memory, this long-forgotten message, hope springs, heart sings, head soars with the light of possibility of new dawn.

This Hope, this Message, this Word unheeded still, but recognized as the One not to be missed parts the winter’s darkness giving glimpses at possible eternal gazing upon the Light during the non-time of eternity. Grasping, listening, learning, accepting, hope eternal rises as the sun of summer in the heart. Belief beats breath-takingly as winter’s dark night fades into gray as the Light of the world breaks into the midst of time’s sway bringing brilliance and wondrous joy.

Where once inevitable ending reigned in heart, mind, and body, now hope and life unending spring forth bringing bounteous joy and eternal life with the One Who is beyond all constraints, Who loves unrestrainedly, and gives life eternally because of His faithful love.

Who wants the misery and despair of winter’s shroud? Who chooses that option when Hope and Light from the eternal Spring is available? Hear the message. Believe the Truth. Walk in the way. Accept the gift of love given so that all who believe can have eternal life. No winter’s dark night ever casts its shroud upon it. No nothingness ever penetrates this glorious eternal kingdom of God. Hear. Believe. Be saved from the darkness of eternal death.

Come see and believe in the hope of the Gentiles.

Come believe and receive the God of hope.

Then in that day, the heir to David’s throne will be a banner of salvation to all the world. The nations will rally to Him, and the land where He lives will be a glorious place. (Isaiah 11:10 [NLT])

Isaiah said, ‘The heir to David’s throne will come, and He will rule over the Gentiles. They will place their hope on Him.’ I pray that the God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in Him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:12-13 [NLT])

In Their Words: Petra's and Fabrice's Stories

Refugee is a word almost everyone has heard in today’s world. The phenomenon of displaced people is rife now. Modern history has never seen this amount of people running to save their lives from political unrest within countries.

Media centers portray refugees trudging through rivers and mud, hiding in forests, carrying their meager goods, and looking at the world with desperation and hopelessness. Are these the true story? Is there more to the story? What is the background of each of these people? Do they want to return home or make our home nation their new home? Each of these questions are important, but their answers are often surprising, especially the answer to the last question. From interviews with refugees and asylum seekers, most want to return to their home countries. Let’s consider more refugee stories and understand them better.

In an earlier segment of this series, we heard from refugees and asylum seekers from three countries-Burundi, DRC, and Sudan. With this article, a refugee from Serbia and one from the Democratic Republic of the Congo will tell of their lives in their home countries and their refuge countries. Petra and Fabrice will answer three questions and provide color to refugee stories so we can learn more about them and the refugee crisis.

Interviews

Petra from Serbia

Question 1: What was life like in your home country?

My home country was very beautiful in many ways. My town of Banja Luka is beautiful. It sits on a pretty river called Vrbas and hills surround it. It is a picturesque town and if it was not for the war, I would have never left.

I have a great life until April 1992. Things had become politically complex. I was a child and did not understand much. All I knew was that the governments were changing and things were going to be different. My parents had great jobs. We had everything I now have in the United States. When war broke out suddenly, our very existence came into question. We were a Muslim family in a city that was majority becoming Serb territory.

Question 2: What made you decide to leave your country?

Bosnia and Herzegovina was a country that suffered horrible atrocities. The Yugoslavian Army overnight became the Serbian army and started attacking civilians and all those that did not identify as Serbs.

We left due to the genocide that our people experienced in the period between 1992-1995. It was the worst war crime committed against civilians since World War 2 in the heart of Europe. Little was done to help innocent people.

Question 3: What has life been like in your host/adopted country?

Life in the new country was a struggle in the beginning. We were eager to get acclimated as soon as possible. My parents are highly educated in their native land and were factory workers in the USA when we arrived and as we grew up. They sometimes held three jobs to keep the bills paid. My parents never complained. They just pushed my sisters and me to get our education.

We did not speak much English, and friends were few. We tended to socialize with those that also came from Bosnia since it was easier. Americans were extremely friendly, but due to coming at the awkward age of a teenager, we did not make many friends with the nationals. It became easier in college. Our accents always made us different and to this day I am asked from where my accent comes.

My sisters and I did well. One works as an accountant at a major oil firm in Dallas. The youngest is a pharmacist. I am a psychotherapist, but also work as a consultant for the patient experience division in a major health system in Texas.

I am telling you my story because refugees have been painted so negatively and almost as a threat to America. In all honesty, we just fled violence. I cannot express my gratitude to this country for welcoming us, and allowing us to work hard and live in peace. My heart bleeds for those that are somewhere in a camp on the other side of the world that will never get that chance.

Fabrice from the Democratic Republic of the Congo

Question 1: What was life like in your home country?

First of all, my country, Congo DRC, is nice and big. We have many riches, but people are suffering too much because they are not getting profit from those riches. Even if they study and get degrees, getting a job is very difficult. Some of us with degrees stayed home for a long time without getting a job. Those who are supposed to fight for the people so they can get profit from our natural riches are using all the riches for their own gain.

Life is good only for those who are working for the government. The rest of the people are suffering. Those people were supposed to speak on behalf of all DRC people. Politicians are getting rich, they and their families, while people are suffering. There is no food, no school, and no jobs.

My country’s politics are very bad because everyone is seeking his own interests, not the peoples’ interests. The few politicians who are fighting for the peoples’ interests are killed or put in prison for reasons that are not viable. The president is not respecting the constitution and is taking more mandate of his function by changing the constitution. Corruption is his top purpose in my country.

Question 2: What made you decide to leave your country?

The main reason I decided to leave my country was the political conflict. In fact, in 2016 there was a big conflict between two political parties, the UDPS, which was led by Mr. Tshisekedi Wa Mulumba Ethiene, and the PPRD, which is led by the current President of the country, Kabila Kabange Joseph.

I was studying at Petroleum and Gas Institute, which was in the same area as the UDPS general quarter. My father was an activist of the UDPS, as well as all my family. In the same year, our general quarter was burned by the PPRD activists. Some of the UDPS activists were burned inside the general quarter. Some researchers were killed by those PPRD activist. My family and I are part of the list of UDPS that the PPRD knows about. We were unsafe in the Congo from then.

We ran from them, the PPRD, me and my father, mother, three brothers and sister. Until now I don’t know where they are. I mean my family. I was running from the PPRD with my wife. We ran from the capital of Kinshasa to a city of Katanga province called Lubumbashi, but there we were still not safe because Lubumbashi is still Congo. I spoke with a truck driver about what happened to us and he drove us from Lubumbashi to Zambia. When we got to Zambia, he spoke to his friend, another driver, asking him to drive us to South Africa. He said we would be safe in that country. That driver drove us to Cape town.

Question 3: What has life been like in your host/adopted country?

Living in South Africa wasn’t easy for us when we arrived. Indeed, we arrived here on 23 December 2016. I didn’t know English. I didn’t have asylum seeker documents, and in January my wife got pregnant. It was very difficult for us to live here because I didn’t know what to do. Without a job and documents what could I do? Really, we suffered. 

At that time, a Congolese person advised me to go to the Scalabrini center to seek a document that would allow my wife to be assisted, and to give birth. That time I wasn’t working and by the grace of God my wife was doing a small job as a hairdresser. The little money she got helped us to get food to eat and to buy baby stuff.

When the baby was born, my wife couldn’t work again. Then one person in my church fellowship connected me to a lift job. After 3 months, that job was finished because I don’t have asylum documents. The little I’m getting now is helping to pay rent, to eat, and buy some baby stuff.

We were happy when Home Affairs said that it was going to give newcomers documents here in Cape Town, but until now they do nothing. It’s like they canceled it. We are willing to go in Pretoria, Durban, or Messina to seek documents, but we don’t have money for transportation.

Life in South Africa is difficult if you are foreigner because we are facing many problems: difficulty in getting documents, xenophobia, difficulty in getting jobs.

Conclusion

Often people consider refugees as people who will enter our home counties and take our jobs, introduce foreign religions and cultures, and take over our nations. Displaced people only seek asylum from the ravages of despair, hopelessness, and fear in their countries. They seek safety, rest, and reprieve. Refugees have no long-term goal of overthrowing and taking over another nation. Still, people fear them, their differences, their languages, and their influence on the people of the host countries. What will it take for us to realize these are people made in God’s image, too? They, too, are for whom He sent Jesus to die and give eternal life because of His sacrificial and dear love? These stories become the voice of refugees and asylum seekers. By them, we can learn the truth and accept these people, these voiceless and persecuted humanity, and love them as God asks us to love them, as our neighbor. What will it take for you to love them as your brothers and sisters? 

In Their Words: Mataa's Story

(for sale at Kakuma Market)

Allow me to introduce Mataa to you. One morning when I awoke, a message was on my phone. It said, “Hello.” No name was attached to the message and you know how reluctant people are to reply to an unknown message or call. Well, I felt God saying, “Go ahead. Talk to this person.” I replied tentatively back to this person and said, “Hello.” Those two initial words began a growing understanding for me about the plight of refugees. I have been working with refugees and asylum-seekers, who for this and other articles I will group all as refugees, for 7 ½ years. I have heard stories, seen where they live, watched as they grew thinner with each week, and regularly felt broken with them as the government refused to give them their official documents. This day, my eyes would be opened to another kind of story. [Note: There is some content that might disturb sensitive readers.]

After “Hello,” this person began telling me his story of how he became a refugee and what it is like to be a refugee in the world’s largest refugee camp, Kakuma, Kenya. This young 19-year-old man’s story unfolds like an interview. For this story, a pseudonym will be used.

Mataa is this young man’s name. He said, “Thank you so much for replying to me. I purposely inboxed you to give a story of mine, if it’s okay with you. I am a Sudanese refugee living in Kenya. And I thought to myself I should share my story with you in hope I can get any help concerning my academic issues. Thank you so much. I hope you would wish to hear me out.”

Gail: Mataa, please tell me your story. I don’t know if I can help with your academic issues, but I would like to hear your story.

Mataa: Thanks to you so much for understanding my point. It is long and sad.

Back when I was in Sudan, we used to live a life with much happiness until war broke out in some parts of our country, which left a lot of people dead, including many children and women.

My parents took us to some place they thought was safe, but all went worse there. I lost my cousins and uncle there when we were attacked in the dawn by rebels.

Before the final attack, early one morning when we were looking after our goats in the nearby forest, we saw some guys who were running while bending approaching us and we knew they were up to no good. We screamed and ran back to the village. A few minutes later they caught up with us. They began shooting guns at our village so people started running, but most women and children did not make it. They were laying down dead. It was a terrible situation, so I and my friend decided to hide inside the grass. My friend saw his mother and his 7-month-old sister on the back of his mother. He ran to them and hugged her. I called him to bend down since the bullet sounds were still too much. But they never heard me. He witnessed his mom being shot in the chest and die on the spot. As she fell, she fell on her child, too. They both died. My friend was so shocked he couldn’t believe what he saw. He stayed until evening.

Later that evening, my father who was away with my mother came and took me with my friend to the forest where I first saw my mom. I was so happy to see her. Days later, we took off to some villages in the west Sudan. There we stayed for days. In that village my friend was so stressed, so he got sick and died, too. Now, I feel he deserves justice in some way.

Later, the fighting continued. I ran away to the forest where I thought it was safe for me to stay. All our village members ran, too. While I was still in the bush, I used to hear wounded people screaming for help and screaming out the names of people who had been killed with their bodies just lying there. That made me run deeper into the forest to go and look for whoever was alive.

Days later, while I was in the forest, I found a hunter who said he would take me with him. He told me I should wait for him until he first got an animal to kill. I waited for him under that tree for 4 days, but he never returned. I used to sleep on the tree branch and drink water from the nearby water source. There was no food. The only food available was the tree leaves, which I ate, then I slept. Five days later, I gave up and left that place.

Guns were still being heard, so I decided to go to the banks of the river Nile where I found some people who were experiencing the same issues as me. We walked together to a small town where they believed people were being taken to a Kenyan refugee camp, so I followed them. When we reached that town, we stayed there for a month, then we were taken to the refugee camps. Life in that camp was a bit fair; I never heard any screams. The only worrying thing is where were my parents and siblings.

A year later, I joined a primary school where I learned small English. I am now in form 2 [form 2 is grade 11 or 12], but the schools are being turned into a private school system and require money to attend. In case I don’t get a chance to finish my high school, I would want to do some computer course and driving school, then go to Sudan and find a small job.   

I am praying hard. Going to school is a big dream nowadays.

Gail: What is the school’s name? Where is it located? How much are the fees?

Mataa: They charge 18,000 Kenyan shillings per term (3 times a year). [That’s about $180 three times a year.] I am taking grade 12 classes. The school is called Kakuma Secondary School and is outside the camp. No one in my family has ever gone to high school or university. I had never been to school until I arrived in Kakuma. [They didn’t use to charge tuition, but another organization oversees the schools as of this year.]

Gail: Is there a school inside the camp?

Mataa: Yes, but it is more expensive.

Gail: Do you live inside the camp?

Mataa: Yes. The saddest thing in my life is knowing that my mother brought me into this world and I feel it is my obligation to give her a life she deserves along with women of her age by bringing peace to our country. The only way of bringing peace to our country is through forgiving those who have killed our beloved people. The past is in the past.

"The only way of bringing peace to our country is through forgiving those who have killed our beloved people. The past is in the past."

My biggest dream is one day I can be a peace ambassador in my country and in the world in general.

Gail: How many years have you lived at the camp? How old are you now?

Mataa:  I’ve been in this camp 6 years. I am 19-years-old now.

Gail: That’s a long time to be without your parents to love on and care for you. Who took their place in the camp?

Mataa: We stayed as boys only in our compound and we cook for ourselves. I am used to it now. I am good. But I have been lonely.

Gail: Where are your parents now?

Mataa: My mom is in Sudan. My dad passed away in 2012 in the conflict.

Mataa experienced atrocities most people will never see or understand. He faced them with almost no adult help. Mataa has learned to live with other orphaned boys in the camp. He tells me they are violent boys, and it is very dangerous to live in the camp. Mataa sent a picture to me of a young man, maybe 18-years-old that had stitches put in across his scalp this week because none of the boys wanted to cook for the group, so they fought about it.

Just because a refugee makes it to a refugee camp, does not mean life will be rosy. Please pray for Mataa and other orphaned refugee children living in camps or in places where there are no camps. Pray for all the refugees to be able to have enough food, a place to live, free education, and a place of safety.

One final note, Mataa wants to return to his home country of Sudan. Most refugees I have spoken with want the same thing. Their host country is a temporary refuge. Mataa wants to be a peace ambassador. The other day he told me he wants to open an orphanage for children in Sudan. And just in case this matters to anyone, Mataa is a professing believer. He is humble and cares for other people.

Mataa ended our last conversation saying that he now has two moms, the one in Sudan and me. We speak almost every day now. We don’t need to live close to someone to develop this relationship. We need to be genuine to build relationships with refugees, just like any relationship, ones that feel like family and involve trust.