Tag Archives: refugees

Ellis Island: Stories of Our Past and Present

What is more representative of America than New York City? I was going to write that a trip to New York is the quintessential American experience, but the United States of America is too broad and too mulita-faceted for me to make that statement. Still, the diversity within New York is a fantastic sampling of the cultures and subcultures with the U.S. as a whole, and the city’s history and modern status makes it the perfect place for one to begin a journey through the States.

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Appropriately, just as my journey home from the Caribbean begins in New York, my ancestors’ journey from Europe also began here.

Statue of LibertyThe sight of the Statue of Liberty inspires me. It inspires me because it is a timeless representation of what the United States is supposed to be. No matter what political trends rise and fall, Lady Liberty stands at the edge of sea, beaconing the traveler and lighting the way to a place of hope. She inspires me because she is what America is, and the hope that America embodies. This is the first sight of our nations shores that my ancestors saw those many decades ago, and she still stands to welcome the immigrants of today. I hope that we never forget that most of our families came to these shores as immigrants and refugees from other places. I hope we won’t forget that it was once our great-grandparents who arrived, footsore and travel weary, hoping for a better life. Maybe the memory of our own narrative will help us to see the humanity in the great crowds who stand knocking at our gates and give us hearts of compassion.

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Those of us who have ancestors who arrived in the United States before 1954 have likely had at least one family member come through the processing center on Ellis Island. For me, the trip to the Ellis Island Museum was significant because I have many ancestors who came through this location. Although I know only a few names, it was amazing to me to stand in the same places that my first American family members stood. After learning about everything it took for people to make it to America and get through Ellis Island, I am in awe of how brave these men and women were. Today, although processes have changed, the people who have the tenacity and drive to make it here and thrive in an unfamiliar culture still must overcome a lot. I have a lot of respect for people who are brave enough to do that, and I’m thankful for my ancestors who made that leap for their children, grandchildren, and me. ellis island family

Two of my ancestors who traveled from Europe through Ellis Island are my great great great grandpa Nicholas Kocina and his wife,  Anna Kocina. Nicholas was Austrian and Anna was Czech. They arrived in the United States in the late 1800s and lived in Chicago before they settled in a Czech community in Nebraska. I tried to imagine what it must have been like for them to climb these stairs and enter the registry room. Although it was fairly empty when we visited, it was absolutely bursting with people when they arrived. IMG_4033 IMG_4036

Besides the Kocinas, my family arrived in the United States from Germany, Ireland, Norway, and England. Most of them came through Ellis Island,  I assume.

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Even more than the history of Ellis Island, I was very interested in the modern refugee and immigration exhibit. I’m working on a master’s in Refugee Protection and Forced Migration Studies, so I was able to glean a lot of useful information from the museum. The issues of refugee asylum and immigration are hot-button topics in the U.S. right now, and I found that the Ellis Island Museum did an excellent job at presenting an informative and well-balanced look at the aspects. There are so many facets to these issues and it’s valuable to be able to hear a variety of voices on the matters, just as the museum presented.American FLag NYCIf you’re ever in New York City, I’d highly recommend a stop at the Ellis Island Museum. A short ferry ride past the Statue of Liberty will take you there. If you’re short on time, bypassing a tour of the statue and opting for Ellis Island is well worth it. Come discover our nation’s past, our present, and our hope for the future.

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First Day of School (Again)

“So, what grade are you in?” the well-meaning youth pastor asked me, intending to invite me to high-school group. Ah, the familiar curse of eternal youthfulness. I smiled and explained that I’m actually in my twenties, swallowing the urge to snidely reply, “Seventeenth.”

Today, I can truly say that I am indeed in seventeenth grade; or, as it is better known, the first year of my master’s degree. Today is my first day of school, and I feel just like I did when I started my first day of kindergarten.

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Part of the reason that I’m so excited to start school again is that it does not involve any math this time. Can I get a hallelujah? The other part is that I get to study something that I enjoy and that I see as significantly impactful to the world. I’m earning an MA in Refugee Protection and Forced Migration Studies from the University of London International. The training will equip me to work with refugees, NGOs, and governments to be a part of the solution for people experiencing forced migration.

I don’t have a lot of experience working with refugees (a few days of volunteering at refugee events in Phoenix, a summer in East Africa, and many conversations with friends and family who have been displaced), but I’ve seen enough overseas and in my own hometown to show me the reality of the refugee situation and the great need for more workers in the refugee protection field.

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Photo Source: Rwandajournal

 

It’s a hard field in many ways, because you’re working with humans and not hard facts. This is one time when I do think math would be easier, because you either have the right answer or you don’t. Not so when you’re working with refugees. Often their wellbeing depends on what you do, there’s not one right answer when it comes to handling victims of conflict, and it’s often easier to see the right choice in retrospect. Just look at the knots that the Syrian refugee crises has put so many governments into. The U.S. is completely divided on how to handle the potential influx of immigrants. Europe is learning how to accept the change that a new population will bring. NGOs are working to protect people who have nowhere to go, and wicked people are doing everything they can to take advantage of their vulnerability. Somewhere in that mess, there are refugee experts working hard to make sure the displaced people are protected and resettled. It’s messy, it’s painful, and it’s amazing. I want to be in the middle of the chaos and the hurt and be a part of the solution.

I used to always ask God why I was born in a safe, privileged place. Why me, when so many people who are better than I am are born into places of suffering?  I eventually stopped asking Him why and started asking what. I don’t know if we’ll ever come up with an answer as to why God lets some people have more privileged lives than others. But I do think He gives us a very clear answer about what we can do with the opportunities we have. Sometime during my college days at Arizona Christian University, I heard a chapel speaker or a professor talk about pressing into places of pain. And it clicked with me. I can use my relatively painless existence to enter places of pain and suffering and “bring heaven down to places of Hell on earth,” as writer Palmer Chinchen puts it. That’s what I really want to do with my degree. I want to learn how to work at the highest level to alleviate that suffering as quickly as possible. I want to bring the messy warmth of humanity to the coldness of political policy. But most of all, I want to learn how I can enter into someone’s place of suffering and walk with them to the end.

To be honest, I don’t know what that looks like or feels like yet. I’m just sitting here at my kitchen table with my dog at my feet, first online assignment of my first class completed and an empty teacup next to me. I can’t image the realities of the things I’ll be studying over the next few weeks. I can’t picture what my life will look like in ten years when I finally get to get my hands dirty and do some real work with real issues and real people in East Africa. All I know is that for the next two years of my life, I’ll progress in my education, one step at a time, toward that unknown place. All I can do today is the task set in front of me.

It’s the first school day of many.

 

One Hour in France

One week after the attacks on Paris, the French flags in Marigot, French St. Martin fly at half-mast. Although the crowds of tourists seem to obliviously enjoy the sun, sand, and sea, the denizens of Saint Martin–on both sides of the island– feel a change in the atmosphere.

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Fort Louis in Marigot, French St. Martin flies the French flag at half-mast

 

Although French St. Martin’s port flies only France’s flag at half-mast, the Dutch side of the island is hoisting all flags at half-mast, a gesture of support and compassion for its French counterpart. “Je Suis France,” cries a sign in Simpson Bay. It is times like these that the unity of the nationally-divided island is most evident.

The significance of the bombing hits close to home for many– for us, exactly .70 miles from home. I’m sure you can image the underlying fear that many people on our island feel. Besides sharing our land with the French, many of us, Ben and I included, have loved ones who live in Paris.

Security on the island is tightening as events continue to unfold. On Monday, the Dutch-side newspaper announced the arrival of a small group of Arab men with false Greek passports. The men were detained as suspected potential terrorists. I’m pretty sure they’re not– real terrorists would certainly have more realistic passports and would know better than to use Greece as their cover country.

Tuesday, the police created a road block and checked every single car on the route to the capitol. I’m not sure why, but it certainly slowed down traffic and I was glad to be coming back rather than heading toward Philipsburg.

The attack in Paris not only brought our attention and compassion to Parisians, it also (finally) opened many Western eyes to similar tragedies around the world: West Bank, Somalia, Israel, Egypt, Lebanon, Iraq, Chad, and Cameroon all experienced acts of terrorism in the month of November, 2015 before Paris was bombed. We did not hear about those on the news because terrorism in Africa and the Middle East no longer shocks us.

Perhaps our horror at the attack on Paris will give us renewed perspective on terrorism in any country.

Maybe it will get our attention so that we will stop re-posting and start doing something about it.

Dutch Sint Maarten is not the only place Syrian refugees showed up with false papers. I heard of incidents in both Honduras and Texas in the last 24 hours. Of all the people currently affected by terrorism, certainly Syrians are at the top of the list. It seems they have nowhere to go, so they are going wherever they can. Wouldn’t you?

Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do for the suffering of Paris except put up a French flag on my Facebook account and bear with the haters and the cries of “white supremacy.” It’s not much, but it’s a way to join with St. Maarten in supporting St. Martin and France.

Fortunately, there are tangible ways that you and I can help the people escaping violence in Syria!

I found this article from a UK-based news source that gives practical ways that “regular people” can be a part of the solution.

One of my friends offered this updated Amazon link. You can spend that unused Amazon gift card and send needed items to be distributed to refugees.

Friends, the world can be a terrible place. The acts of wickedness shock us, petrify us, make us weep. But we don’t have to live in fear, without hope. We can be the hope. We can be part of the solution. We can pray for God to bring comfort, peace, and justice. Then we can stand up and be the answers to our own prayers. We can bring light into this dark world. We can extend the hand of compassion to those who are hurting. This is what God has called us to do, and we can all do it, wherever we are.