Donation protected
While collecting stories at an East Africa Regional Population, Health, and Environment Symposium in Uganda in 2017, I interviewed a conservationist who shared his experiences growing up as an orphaned refugee in East Africa. He spoke about how he cared for the land, because when he had no one, the land cared for him. I’ve interviewed hundreds of people, but this person and his story stayed with me. Now he needs more help than Rich and I can give alone.
After a long political nightmare, he was granted asylum by the U.S. last year. Since then, I’ve learned with horror just how few safety nets there are here in the U.S. for people like him who were driven from their home countries by persecution, torture, and death threats and attempts because of their refusal to aid and abet authoritarian regimes in their human rights violations.
My friend has scraped by this past year, only surviving the unimaginable hardship because it is what he has had to do his whole life. Rich and I have lent support, sending books, furniture, a laptop, rent money, and grocery money when things were especially hard. But his needs are greater than we can meet alone. Without a green card, he has little chance of finding a job that will lift him above survival mode. Currently, he needs $1225 to pay for his Green Card application. God knows he needs more than that, but this is the immediate need. Can you help? Can you share this with anyone who might be moved to help?
Anything you can contribute helps him know he’s not alone. If you cannot contribute money, I would love to pass on messages of support and other shows of kindness and solidarity. After surviving trauma upon trauma, including attempts on his life, he has asked, for now, to remain unidentified. Thank you so much, friends.
I leave you with his words, from our 2017 interview:
"I grew up as a refugee child without a mom and dad. I used to graze cattle when I was six years old in the village where I grew up. I got so sensitive to life. Imagine a person unable to get medication, a person sleeping on an empty stomach. A person failing to get a blanket. A person failing to get shelter. I know it. I know how it feels. I can’t stand it.
Every day I wake up and ask myself, “How much am I contributing to the welfare of other people?” I’m a human. That’s how I feel, and that’s why I wake up to work every day. It’s passion.
Nobody wishes to be a refugee. Everybody who has been a refugee would not wish another person to go through the same experience. Imagine yourself being homeless, having no place to call home. Having no right or access to anything. Only being given handouts and rations. Yet you believe the world is so enormous and so big and so rich. It gives us everything. Then, being a refugee, you’re denied the chance to get all that. We can be refugees in many ways. In health, in security, in finance—we can be financial refugees. Being a refugee means you don’t have a right to what you’re entitled to. You’re given it as a favor.
Life is not a favor, life is a right."
After a long political nightmare, he was granted asylum by the U.S. last year. Since then, I’ve learned with horror just how few safety nets there are here in the U.S. for people like him who were driven from their home countries by persecution, torture, and death threats and attempts because of their refusal to aid and abet authoritarian regimes in their human rights violations.
My friend has scraped by this past year, only surviving the unimaginable hardship because it is what he has had to do his whole life. Rich and I have lent support, sending books, furniture, a laptop, rent money, and grocery money when things were especially hard. But his needs are greater than we can meet alone. Without a green card, he has little chance of finding a job that will lift him above survival mode. Currently, he needs $1225 to pay for his Green Card application. God knows he needs more than that, but this is the immediate need. Can you help? Can you share this with anyone who might be moved to help?
Anything you can contribute helps him know he’s not alone. If you cannot contribute money, I would love to pass on messages of support and other shows of kindness and solidarity. After surviving trauma upon trauma, including attempts on his life, he has asked, for now, to remain unidentified. Thank you so much, friends.
I leave you with his words, from our 2017 interview:
"I grew up as a refugee child without a mom and dad. I used to graze cattle when I was six years old in the village where I grew up. I got so sensitive to life. Imagine a person unable to get medication, a person sleeping on an empty stomach. A person failing to get a blanket. A person failing to get shelter. I know it. I know how it feels. I can’t stand it.
Every day I wake up and ask myself, “How much am I contributing to the welfare of other people?” I’m a human. That’s how I feel, and that’s why I wake up to work every day. It’s passion.
Nobody wishes to be a refugee. Everybody who has been a refugee would not wish another person to go through the same experience. Imagine yourself being homeless, having no place to call home. Having no right or access to anything. Only being given handouts and rations. Yet you believe the world is so enormous and so big and so rich. It gives us everything. Then, being a refugee, you’re denied the chance to get all that. We can be refugees in many ways. In health, in security, in finance—we can be financial refugees. Being a refugee means you don’t have a right to what you’re entitled to. You’re given it as a favor.
Life is not a favor, life is a right."
Organizer
Elizabeth Futrell
Organizer
Chicago, IL