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Reflection on displacement, aging and integration

I have been working hard for 35 years and was so immerged in my work that I rarely thought of my age. I loved my job: teaching. But, things turned upside down all of a sudden, and a ferocious tsunami has flung me violently into other shores.

At the refugee camp, I was in constant combat with all visions of my past. The attempts to kick them out by various means: meditation, yoga… came to nothing. Being a passionate fan of reading, I frequented the public libraries which provide a quiet and tranquil place for readers as well as for nappers! These libraries were very much like a kitchen full of mouth-watering food and delicacies, forbidden for me to eat. The shelves were packed with all sorts of books and publications mainly in French, a language I knew nothing about save few expressions and words which still lingered in my memory from the distant past. I was very much like a blind man groping his way in a room crammed with furniture. Ironically, during my practice as an English teacher I stuffed the heads of my students over years with advises on how to learn a foreign language. Now, I find myself at a loss.

I still remember an incident which happened to me some times ago. One day, while I was engaged in reading a book in a quiet park, I felt something is sniffing my hand. I pulled it out instinctively and found myself facing a dog barking at me, followed immediately by a barrage of angry words in French from a lady, the owner of the dog. What I could make out was that: “The dog would not eat you!” Had I knew French well, I would have told her “I know Madam! But your dog might have bitten me!” We both lacked something, I the language, she some manners.

Nevertheless, the thought of my upcoming French language courses – given to refugees as a part of integration program – would sometimes lift up my spirits. Kind of light at the end of the tunnel.  I would see everyday lots of students streaming down the main camp-route, heading towards “École”, and was wondering why my name was not included in the lists!

Then, one day my social assistant told me rather softly, to make it sound less painful: “The Establishment encourages young refugees to integrate not people at your age“. A shiver ran through my body. How time passes quickly ! Psychologists say teachers are most prone to the traumatic effects of aging as soon as they quit their job or retire. Yet, this was not what I felt. It was not the realization that I am growing old. It was something else, more poignant more distressing.

Had I been here 20 years ago, things would have been different! Completely different! But, there was no time for self-pity and pathetic feelings. I needed badly these courses; otherwise, I was going to “disintegrate” in no time between the four walls of my small cell.

Fortunately, the word “motivated “, a term commonly used here, came to my rescue. I was motivated! So, I started my intensive courses, together with many young refugees who spoke every other language except French; a good number of them were “unmotivated”! Even so, at the start of each new course, the word “aged” would replace “motivated”, and I had to struggle again to have my name included in the lists. Interestingly, the responsible of the courses, a very nice person of my age would argue in favor of the “rules”, while I would request an “exception”. Then as if to comfort me, he would tell me that he too was going to retire very soon!  What a comfort!

Yet, I have to admit that “old age” had at least one “advantage”! I was elected each time as a “delegate” of the class, not so much for my competences, but rather out of respect the African and Asian students still have for the grey hair! Moreover, teachers were considerate and one of them made some nice remarks about the age 60, saying that it is the period of maturity, relaxation and vacationing…!

Finally, I know well that “motivation” and “old age” do not go hand in hand as far as “labor market” is concerned. Yet, I know also that the key to “integration“, in the broader sense of the word (cultural, social, and psychological) is, the acquisition of the language skills  of the country, no matter whether the person is old or young, or else the incident above of the lady with the dog will be the alternative.

Hayrenik DONO  

Membre de la rédaction vaudoise de Voix d’Exils

Infos:

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The world needs more than ever compassion and sympathy, not wars!

One of the most memorable characters, created by the Russian writer Nicolas Gogol (1809-1852) in his wonderful short story « The Overcoat » (1843), is Akaky Akakievich. The tragic hero whose pathetic death is a constant reminder of the sad ending of the vulnerable man in an environment void of human empathy.

The story narrates the short life of an unfortunate lowest-grade clerk in Saint Petersburg who is being pushed to his death by a bureaucratic system and callousness of people around him. It brings sharply into focus the fundamental issue of “brutality of man to man”.

Some of my dearest memories are connected with “The Overcoat”. The story had impressed me first as an adolescent. Later in the eighties, I taught it as a teacher of English to the high-school girls in my home-town Qamishli, Syria.

Teaching, as a matter of fact, was not at all an easy job in that rural, neglected, north-eastern part of the country, mostly populated by  offsprings of traumatized refugees fled from atrocities in Turkey during and after the First World War: like Syriacs, Armenians ,Kurds , Assyrians, Chaldeans and of course  Arabs. Schools reflected very much the divisions in the community. The ambiance was far from being friendly. Students regrouped in classrooms according to their strong ethnic, tribal and religious affiliations. Communication between them was rare while ethnic languages regularly resonated everywhere. Add to that, neither the students nor their parents cared much about English as a school-subject.

 As for teachers, they had first to go through the long and arduous trial of prejudice and stereotyping, before winning the confidence of students. Unfortunately, I was one of those teachers, being a descendant of an Armenian refugee family.

Nevertheless, my experience in teaching “The Overcoat” had completely different results. From the first reading of the story (normally, it took 3 reading-periods to finish, each 50 minute, over a span of 2 weeks) I would notice a notable change in the comportment of my students. An unusual interest in the narrative as well as a profound sympathy for the poor little clerk, would replace everyday classroom chatting and apathy. They would passionately follow the dramatic decline of Akakyievich, having received insults and injuries one after another. Strangely enough, it looked that the tragedy of our hero was bringing the different groups closer together. The class was gradually discarding the usual restrictions, revealing more intimacy and friendliness. Chats in the official Arabic language would become frequent among them. Some girls would even start sharing the same bench and read in the same textbooks, something which was not common. But, it was the death of Akakyievich that deeply distressed them and made their eyes glisten with innocent tears. It was a means of catharsis for them.

I was always wondering how come all this transformation over a very short period of time? How come that the layers of prejudice and mistrust would melt down in few days and spontaneous human sentiments of compassion, pity and love would shine beneath? What was the secret?

To my surprise, the answer came from one of the girls. “Sir” she said in Arabic, “The Overcoat narrates our sad history. We are actually lamenting our own destiny, not that of Akakievich’s! ”. Overwhelmed by emotions, she could not continue further.

Now that war in Syria has entered its seventh year and half of the population has become displaced, I sometimes recall the prophetic words of that 16 years-old girl and wonder where destiny has thrown her amid this senseless game of wars.

H.Dono

Membre de la rédaction vaudoise de Voix d’Exils

09 May 2017