CULTURAL ART,REFUGEES AND FORMER CHILD SOLDIERS; A TEACHER'S EXPERIENCE

We always take for granted simple life experiences such as playing as a child, sports, music and a good nights sleep. Its not until, we listen to their experiences that we take a step back and appreciate life.

I miss home. I miss playing with my friends.”

“I got so used to the shot sounds, cries and wails that I don’t remember how it felt like to sleep peacefully without worry.”

“I made a friend today, they are also from my country.”

Hello Friend, how are you? How did your day start?

That’s how mine did.

I am taking my 3rd cup of tea,  Dunia Tunapita by Orchestre Virunga and Samba Mapangala playing in the background with a few distant “car noises” of people rushing home before the curfew.

Strange times huh.

I’m writing this article after a short stint of a once in a lifetime opportunity. The once in a lifetime being the audience themselves and not really the mentorship and teaching. A friend of mine who works in a school was talking about their class having people from different backgrounds, sometimes making it difficult for them to find a middle ground when it comes to decision making. That week’s problem question was how to conduct the ”Mental Health and Integration Program” they wanted to host.

Seizing the opportunity to learn something new, I offered to do it. Little did I know it’ll change my perspective.

The youth in question, High Schoolers in their final years, were finding it hard to accept that they were getting into a new stage in life. There had been lots of unrest before, with some of them missing school, not participating in class and others going as far as being rude to their teachers. In return the school management introduced tougher “laws” and punishments. One of the teachers had even joked about the punishments reminded him of the “Mandela Prison rules”.

I shuddered.

On the material day, walking along the clean [but poorly maintained corridors} I remember telling myself, “Just wing it, then leave.” But the closer I got to the class, the more anxious I became. It became worse by the step, as the fear moved from “What am I going to say” to “Please don’t have a panic attack!” This especially with the fact that I was briefed that there were students from South Sudan, Ethiopia, Somalia, Tanzania, Rwanda and Eritrea.

Anyways, all went well as I did bring some snacks which I distributed to the students, which made them accept me as one of their own. Hahahaha.

I did decide to wing it, starting with a few terrible puns then easing into the conversation, starting with why they felt there was unrest in the school and what they thought about their education. It was encouraging to see the pupils open up and it was not until I opened up about my boarding school experience that they felt safe enough to fully open up.

I learnt about their harrowing experience during their escape from their countries into the refugee camps. One of the student bluntly pointed out that they were a former child soldier and had to take life in order to survive. It was quite emotional for others who talked about running away from home to escape ritual killings of Albinos and find safe spaces to survive, let alone enjoy childhood. It was quite hard for me as most of their experiences, I had only received through the African Novels I had read as a child [and still do]. The more they shared the experienced, the more drained I became. Full of questions. How comes no one talks about this?

By the time the session was over, all parties involved, Teachers Students and us, had been able to open up, laugh about great times and even managed to play games. I resolved to make more effort with the students, introducing an “Art Friday” where the students stick their artwork on the wall with little description of Art. It later on morphed to Culture and Food Friday which provided a sense of belonging for the students, a program that continued before the pandemic began.

I write this as I reminisce on the good work people do and impact we have on the lives of those we help. It is never really for the fame, glory and money, especially for the money. It’s for the fact that you made someone’s day. I remember trying to budget my monthly expenses to ensure I was able to print out my “mobile museum” or save up to buy soap just to give the kids a good day.

Yes I know we have such institutions like UNICEF, UNHCR and the African Union whom we rarely hear from {I’ll get back to this}, but we should also ask ourselves, “What am I personally doing to make someone’s day?” We may be waiting a long time before we get the help that we need. In the meantime, aside from the physical help we usually provide to refugees and former child soldiers, what other emotional and psychological needs are we providing?

We can include Iraqi Cellist Karim Wasfi who would play his cello on an explosion site, the famed Sarajevo Interfaith Choir that promoted Dialogue and Peace during the Bosnia War among others, but when will we actually consider it [as] necessary?

Are we also including Sports, Music Culture and the Arts into Refugee Programs?

Think about it.

No, I have not forgotten. The African Union? Well a boost to the African Rehabilitation Institute will go a long way in easing the situation when it comes to Transitional Justice, Rehabilitation and Peace Building. The Gacaca Courts have proven this right. Inclusion and the support of such simple initiatives such as Fridays being “Utamaduni Day” in the EAC also provide a sense of acceptance to the refugees and Former Child Soldiers as it reminds them of good times and provides hope for the future. But despite the disappointment, we’re always here to help.

I am really good at this huh.

International Law and Refugee Rights. Hmm…alright then.

Well, I’m done with my tea, let me now look for something to watch before I got to sleep.

Thank you for taking the time to read my article.