It was the second time in my life that I felt so.. powerless… The feeling that I couldn’t do anything to help pierced my heart. The first time I felt this overwhelming emotion was in the face of death. Hearing the news of the death of one of my closest friends had driven me to shock and unimaginable grief. I had felt so small and powerless, I wanted to resist but knowing that nothing I could do or could’ve done would change the situation left me feeling fragile and broken.
It happened again.
On Monday, three Palestinian refugees from Syria came to the Refuge pNan, the NGO that I am currently working for as a legal aid intern. I have been interested in helping Palestinian refugees since two years ago when I went to the states and learned intensively about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. My heart went out to those people who were victims of an unending conflict. Perhaps it was the shock of discovery of a modern-day conflict and unresolved hurt. I understood the narratives of both sides and I did not want to associate myself with any political side, but it was inevitable that I empathized with those whose pain and suffering were most clearly evident in their confined lives within refugee camps. That was how my interest in the Middle East was sparked. Here was something that was pulling my heart strings, something I did not want to leave at book knowledge, and something that was beyond ephemeral infatuation or mere fascination. That led me to apply for internships to the various field offices of UNRWA (the UN Relief and Works Agency for Palestinian Refugees in the Near East) in Beirut and Amman, and also to the Seoul UNHCR office. Unfortunately, I never heard back which made me realize that I was underqualified. As a recent college graduate, I had no practical experience working with refugees and furthermore I did not have the language. This year, I have been blessed to work with a Korean NGO that aids international refugees/asylum seekers in Korea and with the help of amazing people, to begin studying Modern Standard Arabic and Egyptian Colloquial Arabic. It’s very exciting times because of how much I am learning and how it is daily shaping my thoughts.
Coming back to Monday, all of this made me very excited to interview/talk with these people who had visited our office and to listen to their story. They were impatient. They were helpless. It wasn’t their country of choice, but they wanted to stay in Korea. They wanted a chance to study further. They wanted to work. “For a better life,” they said. As procedure, I had to ask about the difficulties they faced if they returned to Syria. “Neither Assad or anti-Assad [forces] want us.” And when I pressed for more details, they said “We could talk all day and all night.” They showed me their travel documents issued by the Palestine Center and Syrian government. They showed me the UNRWA papers stating they were Palestinian refugees. They did not want to be called refugees. They did not want to be called Syrian or Palestinian. “We are not Syrian citizens. We are not Palestinians. We are stateless.”
As a third culture kid, I can slightly imagine what it feels like to not belong anywhere. They were born in a refugee camp. They grew up in a refugee camp. They are not Syrian citizens. They have never been to Palestine. They have never been to what is now, the state of Israel.
They wanted a better opportunity. They are entitled to a better opportunity.
My greatest question was, was it not enough that they were internationally recognized refugees? The answer was no.
The conclusion of the staff discussion over this case was that they had absolutely no chance of being recognized by the South Korean government because they already have international protection by the UNRWA. What that means is that the UNRWA recognizes the need for international protection and has granted them this in the form of refugee camps. As long as they remain in the refugee camps, they are ‘protected.’ It means they have a place that can return to and as long as they stay there, they are ‘safe from persecution.’
I did not go to the office today, but I heard that they came back and the grim reality was described. It is heartbreaking because the choice that they have is not a choice anyone wants to have. They have to go back or they can apply to seek aslyum in Korea but they will become trapped within the country for an indefinite amount of time. If they choose to apply, during the application period, the South Korean government does not legally allow them to work. They cannot study. They cannot work. This is probably what they had to hear today. This is what I realized was the reality for them on Monday.
I heard that they did not take it well. If I were in their shoes, I would not take it well. I would be angry. I would not think that it was fair.
His travel document told me he was the same age as me. He spoke English like me. He was educated like me. He was just someone like me.
I had a glimpse of the things that I will encounter in the future. It makes me wonder is empathy enough. It made me wonder if there was actually anything I could do (in the future) – I have a story of healing and a story of love – is this simplistic naivety?
It made me understand why some Palestinian youth become suicide bombers (not in any way to suggest that the people I met will engage in terrorism) especially if they have had family members killed. I know what it feels like to want to blame someone for the hurt that you feel. The vicious cycle continues – eye for eye and tooth for tooth. But I understood where it comes from. Because you feel powerless. I think they believe (wrongly, of course) that it empowers them. I don’t support it, but don’t you understand where it comes from?
Again, I want to reiterate that I am neither pro-Palestine nor pro-Israel – I am pro-peace.
But, I feel powerless. It is hard to control my feelings and one good cry isn’t enough. I feel powerless.
my blush unseen 