Imagine a World Experiences 2

Imagine a World Enriched by Diversity

Day Event
Central Hall Westminster, London - June 19th

The Day was entitled: Imagine a World Enriched by Diversity and Chiara's talk addressed the question: "What future for a multi-ethnic, multi-cultural, multi-faith society?". The following are some more of the personal experiences shared on the day:

I live with my daughter who is 14, and my son who is 11. I have known the Focolare Movement and it’s spirituality for over 25 years now, and it is on this, that we try and base our everyday lives.

When my husband walked out on us just over 7 years ago now, it was both sudden and unexpected. Looking back, it was probably the most difficult experience of my life to date. I felt stunned, shocked, angry alone and empty, I had to hang on to the fact that God loved me immensely. It was that thought which got me through those first difficult days.

Soon however, I realized that I was facing an all or nothing situation. If I had chosen to base my life on the teachings of the Gospel, then I couldn’t live a type of ‘Pick and Mix’ Christianity. I couldn’t say to the children, ‘The Gospel teaches us to love everyone, but not him because he left us, or her, because he left us for her.’ Everyone really did have to mean everyone.

So I began to encourage the children to continue to build their own relationships based on love. It was a delicate situation, to love in a supernatural way, without condoning what had happened.

The situation was not easy. My ex-husband was dissuaded by his partner from seeing or contacting the children. She refused to spend time with them, while not allowing their father to see them either. However, love rises above these things. I was always so proud of my children when they came back from one of their rare visits to their dad, and shared with me how they had always tried to be the first to love.

Last December, Hugo cut his hand badly, and had to go in to hospital for plastic surgery, skin grafts etc. The children were naturally worried about him and wanted to go to visit him, which we did. We stayed longer than expected, and were still there when Anita, now his wife, arrived. We hadn’t seen each other, or said more than a strained hello for well over six years. I realised that the situation could be difficult, but tried only to love, talking about the accident, the traffic and other general topics until Hugo was taken down to theatre and we left.

About a week later, Hugo rang me to say that because of the operation on his hand, and the skin graft from his leg, he would not be able to come over and bring the children their Christmas presents as planned, and invited us to go over to their house instead. Somewhat surprised I agreed.
On the day, I was so worried about the journey and finding the house, that I didn’t really give much thought to what it would be like when we got there. It was only when walking into the house, that I realised that there is no real etiquette to tell you what to do when visiting your ex-husband and his wife, so decided that the only etiquette needed was that of love. Anita has two dogs that she adores. I am not an animal lover, but felt that to make a fuss of the dogs, was a way of making myself one with Anita. The children, Keith and Christina then exchanged Christmas presents, and while they went upstairs to play on the computer with their dad, I had the opportunity to sit and talk to Christina for about an hour, before she went and made us a magnificent tea. All in all, it was a good afternoon.

Since that day, things have completely changed. Christina no longer seems to resent the children, and is happy for Keith to have as much contact with them as he wants. The children no longer feel awkward when calling or visiting, and other family members can talk about them without the fear of provoking a negative reaction.

Love really does conquer all.

From my work I became involved with members of various refugee communities. However, in order to enter more deeply into their lives I understood that I needed to learn more about their religions and cultures.

I soon found myself in a different world. People came from many countries. The evidence of torture was all over their bodies. Many had epilepsy. Most had broken bones, often set badly. In many cases the scars were so deep that their bones could be seen. Some people had so much shrapnel in their bodies, that it became extremely cold in the winter. Sometimes it was so close to vital organs that it could not even be surgically removed. Many had no teeth as a result of either electric shocks or blows. Many were brain damaged from repeatedly being knocked unconscious and many were internally damaged from having to eat acidic food or from starvation, or from injuries or sexual torture.

Many had witnessed the savage massacre of their loved ones. Many did not to know where their family members were. Often when news of the murder of a relative would arrive, the tears would flow but there would be no funeral and no relatives to grieve with. In fact often in their own countries, there would equally be no service as often bodies were thrown into mass graves sometimes still alive. I began to arrange services for the dead according to their own faith whether Muslim, Sikh, Buddhist or Christian in order to help the relatives to say goodbye with dignity and to remember the dead.

Usually, the people that I see suffer from a condition called post traumatic stress disorder. This means that they have recurrent nightmares often three or four times a night. They also have lots of flashbacks, which means that they suddenly feel as if they are back again in that situation, which maybe one of imprisonment, torture chamber, a battle or a capture. They avoid anything, which reminds them of their trauma. Therefore, they become very frightened of loud noises, men in the uniforms, letters from the Home Office and anything else associated with their particular trauma, such as even a colour for example. Their inability to sleep adds to their health problems. It is well established that the health of refugees declines significantly within 2 years of coming here. They suffer from depression, fear, and worry about people at home and of course from physical illness.

In order to be able to speak with the people in a way that they’d understand, I found very beautiful passages from their own religions and cultures. For example, the manner in which Rumi describes death is a way that both Muslims and Sikhs can identify with. I as a Christian can also identify with this and so our dialogue is authentic. Also the style of the meditations is easier for people of similar backgrounds to comprehend and many people with abnormal bereavement reactions have been helped enormously. Similarly by identifying the African concept of an afterlife with their concepts of nature has helped us to understand each other. By knowing the cultural beliefs and religious books of others, solutions to mistaken beliefs about their own religions can be found without expecting people to accept alternative belief systems. It is not that I am a religious teacher but that false beliefs can cause or contribute to psychological blocks.

I have always found that people are reluctant to make the first move. They naturally assume that as a white person, I cannot know anything about their culture. But when I ask a question which indicates that I might understand, they usually respond very positively and begin to open about their beliefs. To give an example, one day I asked a Hindu woman where she thought her suffering came from. She was initially hesitant. Then I enquired, "Have you ever thought that it might come from a former life? "She immediately answered, "I have often wondered about that because I know that I have done nothing in this life to deserve it. " After discussing awhile, she then concluded that the suffering was God’s way of making her remember him.

In my experience, religion plays a huge part in the ability of refugees and asylum seekers to come to terms with what has happened to them and what they continue to live here in exile. In many cases, it gives people the courage to go on living with the fear of deportation. I often see a growing strength in those facing deportation, especially as they begin to believe that God will be their protection and their strength.

In trying to treat victims of torture, one of the ways that I tried to make myself one was by getting as much music from the different cultures as I could. In some cases, this really made a difference. For example Tamils are so severely tortured that it is almost impossible to get them to relax. However, I discovered that when they hear their own music they become so relaxed that they almost fall asleep and become much easier to treat. Some friends knew that I needed small tape recorders to assist in the treatment. They sent e-mails around their places of work and many people responded. In that way, some people who were too poor to afford even a Walkman where able to listen to music and to have their treatment put on tape.

Sometimes other people helped too. Once a man came to translate for me. He turned out to be quite a significant person in a Gurdwara in central London. When he asked what I needed I told him that I sometimes need services for the dead Sikhs who died in wars or atrocities. He immediately replied that that would be no problem. "And what else?" he asked. I replied that sometimes when benefits are cut off and people are not allowed to work, that they are hungry and need food. He not only offered the food of the Temple but even to have it brought to those who for cultural reasons might be too embarrassed to go into the Gurdwara. He even offered to help with rooms and translations. Other people offered the services of musicians and translators, at times even offering to write music that would assist treatment.

One thing that strikes me always is that, there is a resurrection. Often when I have thought that it would be impossible to treat certain people, I have been proved wrong. Again and again I have seen the smiles return and the nightmares and flashbacks vanish. Slowly, people begin to find hope again. It is rare to hear them speak of a desire for revenge. Many show a heroic acceptance of their lives. Many are so generous though they live in poverty.

It helps me to remember that Jesus, Mary and Joseph were refugees and that Jesus Himself died a victim of torture.