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Mary Rose Kennedy (Class of 2016)
In my last blog I outlined not only the ways in which
the world’s growing refugee population is constructed by aid regimes and states,
but also the problems with such constructions. Today there are over fifteen million refugees worldwide, yet aid regimes and states tend to
clump all of these people (which total more than the combined populations of
New York City, Los Angeles, and Chicago) into a single understanding of what it
means to be a refugee. My
internship with Kentucky Refugee Ministries has helped me realize that no two
refugee experiences are alike, and every individual’s story (i.e. their construction of their experience –
not that of aid regimes or states) reflects the way in which a refugee has
drawn meaning from their experience as each is forced to actively choose which parts of the experience
that are worth telling.
Here is the story of one very remarkable woman and her
family:
Like many refugees, Fartuun (whose name has been changed for
confidentiality) has endured unimaginable tragedy – hunger, war, rape, and
loss. But her life has not been defined by these horrors. Outside of my internship, I spend 2-3
hours every Tuesday and Thursday evening mentoring her six children (four girls
and two boys ages 10-16). The
majority of my time with the children is spent helping with homework, teaching
English, and mentoring; but oftentimes I take time to sit down and visit with
their mother. One day as we were
sitting on the couch visiting, Fartuun grabbed my hand and sighed, “My husband
. . . [was killed in Somalia] . . . so I am [both] mother and father . . . but I am a happy mother. I am blessed with good children, praise
be to God.”
I do not know exactly when or how her husband died. I know that it must have happened some
time ago because Fartuun and her children fled Somalia with her sister’s
family, and they spent many years in both Yemen and Egypt before the United
Nations granted them resettlement to the United States. However, such details relating to the
pain and loss Fartuun endured are not the most important element of her
story. The most important element
of her story is the fact that she endured.
Fartuun is more than a ‘refugee.’
She is a proud mother of six children, all of whom have made
significant progress in learning English and acclimating to American
culture. The eldest daughter made
honor roll last semester, and she is driven by her dream of becoming a doctor.
Fartuun’s eldest son just enrolled in a hifz
course (i.e. classes that teach the memorization of the Qu’ran), and he
participates on his school’s soccer team.
The younger children are following suit, so Fartuun has every reason to
be “a happy mother.” More than
‘resettled person’ in Louisville, she is an active member within the Somali
community. When a friend visits
their home, she drops whatever she is doing to give that person her undivided
attention for hours. And Fartuun is
more than a KRM client whose children I mentor. She insists that I call her amaa (auntie), and tells me every time I visit that I am her habibati (a term of endearment given to
loved ones, e.g. darling).
Despite the pain and suffering she had
endured Fartuun is one of the most
loving people I know, and she finds joy in the simplest aspects of life.
Mary
Rose Kennedy is a senior McConnell Scholar from Owenton, KY. Kennedy is
studying political science, history, and Middle Eastern and Islamic
Studies.