Berkley Center

Among all of the incredible experiences I had in Kenya the last four months, one sticks out as the most profoundly gratifying, and challenging. I interned with an amazing group of young refugees in Nairobi, a truly eye-opening experience that banished from my mind the CNN-wrought images of refugees as all desperate, hardened souls, walking across unforgiving deserts, surviving off hand-outs in overcrowded camps, and forming armed revenge militias. Instead, the 60 refugees I worked with were boisterous, cheerful pranksters, delighting in sneaking chili peppers into my lunch, not plotting acts of revenge. Admittedly I was working with teenage girls, ages 13 to 25, not exactly the profile of armed militias. Nonetheless, what changed my perspective of refugees was that despite their horrific past experiences that included rape, near starvation, and forced labor, there was grace and humility in the way these young girls carried the burden of their plight and adapted to radically new conditions.

The 60 girls I taught and worked with in Nairobi were from all over East and Central Africa. While possessing a diverse wealth of languages and experiences, the refugees all faced political oppression forcing them to separate from, but not lose, their distinct identities, cultures, and ambitions. Unanimously, those with whom I could speak English (two-thirds) prioritized peace for their country and simple kinship amongst their people far more than revenge or even foreign assistance.

That desired peace and kinship is often out of reach for the estimated 500,000 refugees presently in Kenya. Kenya has become a magnet for refugees because it represents an island of relative safety and stability in conflict-riddled eastern and central Africa. In Kenya’s neighborhood are such infamous refugee-causing conflicts as Somalia, Sudan, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Rwanda. Every corner of Kenya now hosts refugee camps for these various countries’ refugees, many now famous for their size (Dadaab has >300,000 refugees) and longevity (many in operation for almost 20 years). An estimated 100,000 refugees that don’t get pushed into these overcrowded, headline-making camps make it to Nairobi, the bustling capital city of five million, in search of jobs and a new life. They are greeted by a hard, fast-paced urban lifestyle with new laws, new norms, unfamiliar languages, and plenty of other desperate people eager to take advantage of the refugees’ naiveté.

Why are there no mechanisms or agencies in place to greet these vulnerable urban refugees? When I asked, Kenyans simply laughed in disbelief that I would consider foreign refugees a high priority in a country with as many beggars, slums, and unemployed college graduates as Kenya. Politically, Kenyan parliamentarians are in the tricky position to employ Kenyans first rather than help foreign job-seekers, just as US Congress is pressured domestically on questions of aiding Mexican immigrants. In addition to economic pressures, Kenya faces regular terrorism threats from Al-Shabaab and over 8,000 Somali refugees still flowing across their northeastern border monthly. These security pressures from Somalia stretched Kenyan capacities to a breaking point this February when the government militarily closed the border, turning their back on the refugee crisis. The government’s attitude feeds a vicious political cycle; because official Kenyan government policy is to deny entry or send refugees straight to the camps, NGOs are all largely focused on aiding the rural camps, leaving Nairobi’s urban refugees particularly vulnerable and underserviced.

Heshima Kenya, where I interned with the 60 refugee girls this spring, is one of the first and only organizations dealing with urban refugees. Beginning only four years ago, two young American women decided they wanted to help the adolescent refugees who have fallen through the cracks of large aid organizations, who focus on helping families and small children. UNHCR estimates 5,000 to 10,000 orphaned refugees live in Nairobi, and this need has only begun to be addressed. In just four years, Heshima has fed, housed, and educated over 200 orphaned refugees, accomplishing a staggering amount of good that the United Nations and larger organizations can or will not replicate.

Walking down one long dirt road to another unmarked dirt path in attempt to find Heshima’s unmarked offices on my first day of work, I formed false assumptions about whom I would be helping. I was caught off guard by enthusiastic hugs, Facebook invites, and spontaneous cultural dancing minutes upon my arrival into the refugees’ shelter. After years of hardship fleeing their countries, a journey that left one-third of the 13 to 17 year olds with babies, the girls embraced this opportunity at Heshima in Nairobi and one another as a new beginning. With formidable political obstacles preventing them from accessing services and integrating normally into Kenyan society, the refugee girls still displayed a humbling wealth of hope and optimism for their futures.