Surviving a Refugee Complex
8
That is the number of times I’ve moved in my life as of right now, not including my involuntary arrival on earth. Only jokes, I’ve honestly been beginning to appreciate my journey here as a spiritual being having a human experience. Life has embraced me and kept me curious, like a film I wonder what new lens I’ll get to see the Dunia (world) through. I recall my time living in Dadaab, a district located in Garissa, Kenya specifically in a refugee complex by the name of Ifo. Pictured below is a photograph of a Dadaab refugee. There were three complexes within Dadaab refugee camp. These camps included Dagahaley, Hagadera, Ifo, and more recent additions Ifo II and Kambioos. After fleeing the Somalian civil war my parents were forced to settle here. They left behind everything that they knew for another country in fear for their lives and that of their newborn, my eldest brother at the time.
“Dadaab was initially established as a temporary haven for 90,000 refugees fleeing the 1991 clan fighting.” — The Gaurdian
Although it was meant to be a temporary haven at the time. The reality is that there are generations and generations of displaced Somali’s who to this day reside in these refugee complexes. The reason: “ under Kenyan law, Dadaab’s 330,000 refugees are not allowed to settle outside”. — Moulid Hujale
Not only is this a gross denial of their basic human rights but this law happens to exile thousands of refugees in encampments that barely have the resources to support the growing number of people who have come to the realization that this might be an unfavorable long-term solution.
As a child growing up all I knew was this complex. I’ve never seen my home country of Somalia. I recall my family living off of UNCHR rations. Although helpful this aide wasn’t enough for a family of five or the thousands of families that fled as a result of clan violence. I saw my mother formerly a student studying to join the agricultural ministry of Somalia struggling to feed a family of five while my father attempted to secure sponsorship to America. There were days my parents sacrificed meals to make sure that myself and my brothers had something to eat.
Our hope came in November of 2005. My father finally secured a sponsorship to America. My family gathered what little belongings we had, sold anything of value, and departed for a new destiny. A destiny that thousands would probably never have in this lifetime as generations and generations of families continue to reside in these complexes to this day. The opportunity to create a stable life in America, the opportunity to achieve the American dream.
Every time I look back I imagine how truly blessed my family has been to receive such an opportunity. I also can’t help but have survivor's guilt. There are families that might never see or experience the chance my family did. Since our time here my mom has sent aid in the form of donations, clothes, and whatever she could while also building a foundation here and starting over completely in a new country. Today I am making it my life’s work to find a durable solution to a problem that continues to plague the community I grew up in one day at a time.Follow my journey as a real estate investor whose dream is to build a durable complex with electricity, running water, and potentially a healthcare resource center for the families of refugees who have little hope in the Kenyan government to reform existing complexes.
©HajiThePoet
A Word From The Author
Thank you so much tribe for taking the time to read my article. I am deeply honored that you have chosen to follow my introspective journey as a transient being in healing. Much love and light!
Support me here and get access to all of my articles.Thank you!
Tony Karumba/AFP/Getty Images
