Dzaleka Refugee Camp
It was my true honor and privilege to get to spent the weekend at the Dzaleka Refugee Camp for the Tumani Festival 2018. I am ashamed to tell you that I was nervous about going and staying at a refugee camp. I thought it would be dirty, and smelling and I would be uncomfortable. However I am so ashamed and embarrassed that I felt that way. I was excited to see the cultural dances and buy from the vendors but the staying there overnight part scared me.
We took a 5 hour bus ride to get there. That was an experience in itself, however we arrived and met our host families, who took us deep into the camp to their home. It was modest, but much cleaner than the other houses seemed. They had a living room, three bedrooms, a kitchen and a kitchen table. Out back is where they kept their chickens, and had a shower and a toilet. By shower I mean a empty cement room with a bucket you filled with water, and by toilet I mean hole in the ground.
We spent the rest of the day buying from vendors and listening to live music and trying see as much as we could. It didn't take long for me to realize that there are so many people in this camp. Children just running around freely, and the camp grounds itself is very large. They have hundreds, if not thousands of houses all attached together. You walk around in little alley ways to get around the camp and find your way back to the house you are staying at. I was surprised to see a lot of white people there for the festival. I am not sure if they came to Africa for the festival, or if they were around and just decided to come, they seemed to be mostly Australians, and they were very nice.
The children loved us and would follow us around yelling "How are you?" I am pretty sure that is the only English phrase they know so they just say it over and over again no matter how many times you answer. Some brave children will run up and hug you, most just wave and smile, enjoying the fact that you look different than they do.
The family we stayed with was composed for four people, two parents and two teenage children. They were from Congo, the parents were still learning English so their daughter did a lot of translating but they graciously opened their home to us and made us meals while we were there and heated bath water for us twice a day. It is very dusty and windy there so you have to shower multiple times because your skin gets dusty and mixes with your sweat to make a nice layer of mud. They shared their story more and more with us over the time we stayed with them. They were well off people, quite involved in their church and community, (the father is an elder) but after their pastor was arrested for being a political figure, all the elders had bounties on their heads for the deaths. So they decided one night to just leave everything and escape. They lost everything. What breaks their fathers heart the most is that his children are not getting a very good education. He wants to someday move somewhere where they can truly have an education.
This seemed to be the theme of the weekend. People highly educated, with good paying jobs, good lives, suddenly leaving to save their lives, yet this camp doesn't really seem to be living. They are struggling. They can't work, they don't make money, they can't really leave the camp, and they have to petition to get placed in a country that could take them. Hundreds of people flood in every month and maybe 80 a year leave. Countries don't want refugees, especially African countries. Finland, Denmark, Australia, Canada, and the US take the most. However, since Trump became president placements in the US have stopped because they aren't allowed in anymore.
People from Congo, Burundi, Rwanda, and Ethiopia flood the place. They volunteer around the camp, and receive aid from UNCHR, a UN based organization that provides food and clothing to refugees. You can tell the people hate not being able to do anything. They are just in limbo, its a waiting game. They want to be able to provide for themselves, but Malawi won't let them become citizens so they really can't do anything.
Over and over I heard stories of families being separated, families members left behind, running at night on a whim just to save your life. They lost everything. They had jobs and lives, and now they have nothing. You can tell they feel stripped of their dignity. My heart just kept breaking. I kept it together until I was talking with my host family in their living room the night before I left. The father asked me what I thought about the camp. I couldn't take it any longer, I started crying right there on his couch. I told him it broke my heart and I wanted them to be able to have the same opportunities as everyone else. I told him I wanted to be able to help but I didn't know how. The Mother smiled and told me to keep their family in my prayers because living in a refugee camp is not easy and it is not ideal for anyone. They begged me as a family to make sure that I always pray because prayer is the key to change. They told me they loved me and that the fact that we were from different places, different colors, speaking different languages, and we could live together meant we are children of God.
I love this family's faith. I told them I would always pray for them and I would do whatever I could. I told them they were my congolese family and family takes care of each other. The father said he would pray they got relocated to the US so that we could see each other again. Their love and generosity overwhelmed me. They had really next to nothing yet they did everything they could to make sure I was comfortable and loved.
I was once again embarrassed about feeling nervous before, these people don't like their situation anymore than I do. They are just making the most of a crappy situation and how dare I feel like I was "stooping" to their level. We are all children of God and we need to take care of one another.
While we were there two cattle trucks pulled up filled with people. The whole camp stopped what they were doing and flooded the trucks. Thousands of people huddled around these trucks. These were new loads of refugees and everyone was looking to see if it was their family members. The sight was something to behold and it broke my heart once again. I felt so helpless. What do you do for these people? How do you help them?
There is a school at the camp. But only 3,000 children can attend and 14,000 are school age. Do that math. That is thousands of children not in school. Not getting an education because there are too many people and not enough space in the school.
On sabbath we went to the Adventist church in the camp. It had to be translated from Rwandan, to Chichewa (language of Malawi), then from Chichewa into English for us. The people were so kind and welcoming as all African churches are. I was asked to write an article about the church for an adventist magazine so we ended up going back for their sundown worship service. I talked to several people through a translator, and they have amazing stories to tell. The church elders thanked us so much for coming, because believe it or not we are the first visitors to visit this little adventist church in the refugee camp. They have over 300 members in two branches of the church. One branch is in Rwandan language, and Chichewa, the other in Swahili so everyone can understand the church service. They have a very active AY program with over 120 members. This church does a lot of evangelism in and out of the camp and asked us to see if we could help in any way. I told them I hoped my article would bring awareness to their situation and that they do in fact exist there.
Some people have been in the camp for over 20 years, some were born in the camp, some came as small children, came of age in the camp, and can no longer leave with their family because they are no longer a minor and have to file their own placement case. Families are being separated left and right on both ends of the camp. The whole situation just broke my heart and I cried myself to sleep the last night I was there. I met so many amazing people with amazing experiences and great education yet, they just sit in this camp helpless and frustrated.
The pictures below are from my time in the camp. You will not see many faces because they don't want people taking pictures and exploiting the refugees, I tried to be as sensitive to this as possible. I wanted to honor their privacy. But hopefully this will give you a little taste of what it was like.
We took a 5 hour bus ride to get there. That was an experience in itself, however we arrived and met our host families, who took us deep into the camp to their home. It was modest, but much cleaner than the other houses seemed. They had a living room, three bedrooms, a kitchen and a kitchen table. Out back is where they kept their chickens, and had a shower and a toilet. By shower I mean a empty cement room with a bucket you filled with water, and by toilet I mean hole in the ground.
We spent the rest of the day buying from vendors and listening to live music and trying see as much as we could. It didn't take long for me to realize that there are so many people in this camp. Children just running around freely, and the camp grounds itself is very large. They have hundreds, if not thousands of houses all attached together. You walk around in little alley ways to get around the camp and find your way back to the house you are staying at. I was surprised to see a lot of white people there for the festival. I am not sure if they came to Africa for the festival, or if they were around and just decided to come, they seemed to be mostly Australians, and they were very nice.
The children loved us and would follow us around yelling "How are you?" I am pretty sure that is the only English phrase they know so they just say it over and over again no matter how many times you answer. Some brave children will run up and hug you, most just wave and smile, enjoying the fact that you look different than they do.
The family we stayed with was composed for four people, two parents and two teenage children. They were from Congo, the parents were still learning English so their daughter did a lot of translating but they graciously opened their home to us and made us meals while we were there and heated bath water for us twice a day. It is very dusty and windy there so you have to shower multiple times because your skin gets dusty and mixes with your sweat to make a nice layer of mud. They shared their story more and more with us over the time we stayed with them. They were well off people, quite involved in their church and community, (the father is an elder) but after their pastor was arrested for being a political figure, all the elders had bounties on their heads for the deaths. So they decided one night to just leave everything and escape. They lost everything. What breaks their fathers heart the most is that his children are not getting a very good education. He wants to someday move somewhere where they can truly have an education.
This seemed to be the theme of the weekend. People highly educated, with good paying jobs, good lives, suddenly leaving to save their lives, yet this camp doesn't really seem to be living. They are struggling. They can't work, they don't make money, they can't really leave the camp, and they have to petition to get placed in a country that could take them. Hundreds of people flood in every month and maybe 80 a year leave. Countries don't want refugees, especially African countries. Finland, Denmark, Australia, Canada, and the US take the most. However, since Trump became president placements in the US have stopped because they aren't allowed in anymore.
People from Congo, Burundi, Rwanda, and Ethiopia flood the place. They volunteer around the camp, and receive aid from UNCHR, a UN based organization that provides food and clothing to refugees. You can tell the people hate not being able to do anything. They are just in limbo, its a waiting game. They want to be able to provide for themselves, but Malawi won't let them become citizens so they really can't do anything.
Over and over I heard stories of families being separated, families members left behind, running at night on a whim just to save your life. They lost everything. They had jobs and lives, and now they have nothing. You can tell they feel stripped of their dignity. My heart just kept breaking. I kept it together until I was talking with my host family in their living room the night before I left. The father asked me what I thought about the camp. I couldn't take it any longer, I started crying right there on his couch. I told him it broke my heart and I wanted them to be able to have the same opportunities as everyone else. I told him I wanted to be able to help but I didn't know how. The Mother smiled and told me to keep their family in my prayers because living in a refugee camp is not easy and it is not ideal for anyone. They begged me as a family to make sure that I always pray because prayer is the key to change. They told me they loved me and that the fact that we were from different places, different colors, speaking different languages, and we could live together meant we are children of God.
I love this family's faith. I told them I would always pray for them and I would do whatever I could. I told them they were my congolese family and family takes care of each other. The father said he would pray they got relocated to the US so that we could see each other again. Their love and generosity overwhelmed me. They had really next to nothing yet they did everything they could to make sure I was comfortable and loved.
I was once again embarrassed about feeling nervous before, these people don't like their situation anymore than I do. They are just making the most of a crappy situation and how dare I feel like I was "stooping" to their level. We are all children of God and we need to take care of one another.
While we were there two cattle trucks pulled up filled with people. The whole camp stopped what they were doing and flooded the trucks. Thousands of people huddled around these trucks. These were new loads of refugees and everyone was looking to see if it was their family members. The sight was something to behold and it broke my heart once again. I felt so helpless. What do you do for these people? How do you help them?
There is a school at the camp. But only 3,000 children can attend and 14,000 are school age. Do that math. That is thousands of children not in school. Not getting an education because there are too many people and not enough space in the school.
On sabbath we went to the Adventist church in the camp. It had to be translated from Rwandan, to Chichewa (language of Malawi), then from Chichewa into English for us. The people were so kind and welcoming as all African churches are. I was asked to write an article about the church for an adventist magazine so we ended up going back for their sundown worship service. I talked to several people through a translator, and they have amazing stories to tell. The church elders thanked us so much for coming, because believe it or not we are the first visitors to visit this little adventist church in the refugee camp. They have over 300 members in two branches of the church. One branch is in Rwandan language, and Chichewa, the other in Swahili so everyone can understand the church service. They have a very active AY program with over 120 members. This church does a lot of evangelism in and out of the camp and asked us to see if we could help in any way. I told them I hoped my article would bring awareness to their situation and that they do in fact exist there.
Some people have been in the camp for over 20 years, some were born in the camp, some came as small children, came of age in the camp, and can no longer leave with their family because they are no longer a minor and have to file their own placement case. Families are being separated left and right on both ends of the camp. The whole situation just broke my heart and I cried myself to sleep the last night I was there. I met so many amazing people with amazing experiences and great education yet, they just sit in this camp helpless and frustrated.
The pictures below are from my time in the camp. You will not see many faces because they don't want people taking pictures and exploiting the refugees, I tried to be as sensitive to this as possible. I wanted to honor their privacy. But hopefully this will give you a little taste of what it was like.
Leather shop
SDA church we went to. Your typical brick building with tin roof. Also fun fact: Africans have started to refuse Maranatha 24 hour churches because they are poorly constructed and fall down in the wind.
African women carrying babies. Babies are always just strapped to mamma's back happier than can be
Best Chapatis I have ever had.
Market stores
African dresses for sale.
Burundi Cultural dance
Look how they balance the drums on their head.
They danced, played drums, chanted, jumped, yelled. It was great.
Turns out I make a great photo opt.
Very interesting and heart warming. It seems to be a very humbling work that you're doing. Very proud of you, Lauren. Praying for you and your wonderful heart. Also for your anxiety. I'm sure that plays a big part in what you're doing.
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