To say that my time on Yahel has developed my social conscience is a vast understatement. Due to my involvement with Yahel, I am not only more aware of the social problems that exist in my community, but also of those that I am exposed to on a daily basis but do not always recognize. In this sense, Yahel has taught me to not be afraid to look deeply into my surroundings and face the challenging issues that impact the people who live in my backyard, not just my community at large.
I was introduced to this concept through my recent visits to South Tel Aviv. This is an area I pass through many times because it is the location of the Tel Aviv Central Bus Station. Though so many people use this venue as their gateway to enter of one Israel's most popular destinations, it is arguably one of the most feared areas in the country. Due to the large population of asylum seekers from Eritrea and Sudan living there, South Tel Aviv has been associated by Israelis with the most horrible of conditions, some of which include poverty, homelessness, and crime. Even though I live in Lod, which is extremely stigmatized as one of Israel's most dangerous cities, many Israelis have just as negative reactions, if not more negative, when I say I need to travel through South Tel Aviv. I have heard, among other things, that I could be killed, assaulted, or robbed while walking through the streets adjacent to the Central Bus Station, and if possible I should make an effort to avoid the area. These comments have greatly influenced my perception of South Tel Aviv, and have made me extra cautious whenever I need to go there to take a bus or monit sherut.
While the stigmas associated with South Tel Aviv may be legitimate in some cases, I have learned if you look a little deeper it is possible that things are not as bad as they seem. Over the past couple of weeks, I have had many chances to be introduced to the South Tel Aviv asylum seeker community, and I have discovered that the inspirational stories of these inhabitants far outweigh the negative messages conveyed about them. The first opportunity came a couple of Sundays ago, when I attended one of the events included in a week-long initiative by a group called B'nai Darfur. This group, which was formed by Darfurian asylum seekers who traveled to seek refuge in Israel, arranged this week of programming with the purpose of educating the Israeli public about the atrocities occurring in Darfur. At the event I attended, I had the opportunity to hear these people's stories and actually talk to people living in displacement camps in Darfur through live Skype conversations. I was surprised and enlightened to receive such direct exposure to this significant conflict, and even more so to receive it in a place where I walk around and bypass so often.
This event was so helpful in allowing me to understand the nature of the conflict from the perspective of a Darfurian. Before then, I had generally been exposed to the Darfur genocide through mass media campaigns that seemed impersonal and gimmicky. I had never personally become active in the Save Darfur campaign because I had no personal connection to the conflict that motivated me to do so. After hearing these Darfurians and communicating with people who were going through the conflict as we spoke, I finally got the personal connection I was looking for. For once, I felt like I had a stake in the genocide, knowing people who had escaped its horrors and were tortured with them at the present moment. At this time, the conflict just felt real to me, and when something feels real it is hard to ignore or avoid. I knew then that I had a responsibility to take action.
This responsibility strengthened in my heart after a day trip the Yahel participants took to South Tel Aviv two Thursdays ago. One of the most meaningful moments was when we met Mutasim Ali, the CEO of the African Refugee Development Center (ARDC). The Lod group was able to learn about this inspiring man earlier at one of our weekly group check-ins, when we watched a TED Talk he presented. From both this speech and our in-person meeting, we learned much about Mutasim's long journey from the horrors of Darfur to his awaited asylum in Israel. After escaping the persistent attacks on his village by the janjaweed militia to live with his grandmother, thereby forever leaving his parents behind, Mutasim became committed to fulfilling his parents' sacrifice and discovering a better life for himself. He attended university and used his education and position in society to protest against the Sudanese government's actions in Darfur, which resulted in his arrest and torture by the Sudanese police. Following his release from prison, Mutasim realized that the best way to help his people and secure a prosperous future was to leave the country and go somewhere safe. He originally entered into Egypt, but soon left due to Egypt's diplomatic relations with Sudan. Ultimately, Mutasim decided his most viable option for asylum would be Israel, the only democratic state in the region that also had no diplomatic relationship with Sudan.
Soon after his arrival, Mutasim discovered that Israel would not be as welcoming as he had hoped. Instead of a friendly welcome, Mutasim, along with many other asylum seekers from Eritrea and Sudan, were sent to the Holot Detention Center in the Negev. Stationed in the middle of a desert wilderness, Holot houses more than 3,300 asylum seekers, which is over its full capacity. It is considered an open facility, meaning prisoners can come and go whenever they please. However, they need to check in three times a day, and with Holot's isolated location, the asylum seekers cannot travel far distances without needing to return for their required check-ins. Though this "open" policy is seen as an improvement compared to Holot's previous more restrictive policies, Mutasim saw this measure as a trap to prohibit his mobility and prevent him from obtaining the rights he deserved as a refugee.
Today, Israel has over 43,000 asylum seekers from Eritrea and Sudan in its midst. Though there are no more asylum seekers who continue to arrive, due to Holot's reputation and other preventative measures such as a large fence on the Egyptian border, Israel still needs to deal with the large asylum seeker population under its jurisdiction, most of which it refuses to grant refugee status to (only four special cases have ever received refugee status). This is because the guiding ideology in Israel regarding refugees is to maintain a Jewish majority demographic, meaning reducing the number of non-Jews becoming legal citizens. Currently, the typical visa an African asylum seeker obtains in Israel is a 2(a)(5) visa. This visa does not allow the asylum seekers to own property or to receive workers' rights, though employers are able to hire them if they wish. It also needs to be renewed each year, meaning these asylum seekers are faced yearly with the arduous Israeli bureaucratic process and the threat of deportation.
Though still struggling to obtain equal rights and become integrated into Israeli society, many asylum seekers, Mutasim included, have been able to make their way out of Holot and begin new lives for themselves in South Tel Aviv. Of course, just because they are out of prison does not mean they live comfortably. After being sent to live in South Tel Aviv, as Israel does with many Holot prisoners post-release to place all of their problems in one location, the asylum seekers were exposed to a brand new environment and were not taught how to deal with it properly. Mutasim described to us how overwhelming it was just to step foot in the Central Bus Station; he had never seen escalators before, and it was almost impossible for him to find his way through this wide, spread out building. As more people starting arriving in this area, it became more and more driven with crime, poverty, and unemployment, and it began to show throughout the public spaces. A great example of such a space is Levinsky Park, a recreational area adjacent to the Central Bus Station which was the first stop on our day trip. Kayla, our tour guide, told us that just a couple of years ago, the entire park was filled with shelters of homeless asylum seekers. To this day, the park is used by asylum seekers as a place to sleep, sit, and even go to the bathroom. Levinsky Park is also a main center for the asylum seekers to find day-to-day work. As we were sitting in the park, we could see people lining up to get their jobs for that day. This clearly showed that even though these people escaped detention and persecution and are living in a big city, they are still living under horrible conditions.
|Group photo with Mutasim Ali|
Despite the adversity they experience, the African asylum seekers in Israel are resilient and continue to work toward providing better lives for themselves. One of the most inspiring examples I witnessed of this was that of Kuchinate – the African Refugees Women's Collective. Through this initiative, Eritrean and Sudanese women are able to meet and create baskets as a form of art therapy. These women sell their baskets for money, and also receive counseling to help them cope with their psychological issues deriving from the tragedies they escaped from. We were welcomed very warmly into this community with homemade popcorn and coffee (and according to Eritrean tradition, we needed to drink three cups!). We then met with a psychologist who works with the women, who was able to describe the initiative and her clients' backgrounds in English. After our group discussion, I walked over to an Eritrean woman making coffee and started a conversation with her in Hebrew (not every asylum seeker has a good knowledge of Hebrew, but these women are fortunate enough to be receiving Hebrew lessons within the community). From talking to this woman, I learned that her husband and daughters are still in Eritrea, and she had to take her journey to Israel alone in order to escape forced conscription into the Eritrean army. There were so many questions that I wanted to ask this inspiring woman, and all others who undertook this life-threatening voyage in order to seek a better life. The main message I received from our chat was that she misses her home greatly, but she knows that creating a successful living environment in Israel is the best thing for her at the moment. Hopefully, if she can continue to provide for herself, there is a chance she can see her husband and daughters again.
|Eritrean and Sudanese women who work for Kuchinate|
|Some of the baskets made at Kuchinate|
This interaction taught me how much the problems these people face impact us on a human level. This woman, along with the other asylum seekers, has needed to endure unbearable hardships, and now here they all are living right next to where I take my busses to and from Tel Aviv. I pass by these people all the time as they suffer before my eyes, and I believe I have the responsibility to do something about it. As one who has the power to create social change in Israeli society, I believe my role in this situation is to ensure that the State of Israel is providing these individuals with the rights and resources they are entitled to.
We just started the holiday of Pesach, during which we remember the Jews' miserable slavery in Egypt and celebrate the joy of our freedom. As part of our final group learning session before our Pesach break, Yahel's programming coordinator in Lod, Mike, had the Lod group look at different interpretations of a verse from the Torah that is commonly referenced during Pesach. The verse goes, "Be kind to the stranger in your midst, for you were once strangers in the land of Egypt." As someone who has always brought this verse to mind while sitting at the Pesach seder table, I have often thought of what it means practically in my day-to-day life. After meeting Mutasim and hearing the stories of the asylum seekers living in my backyard, it became clear to me that implementing this moral lesson means reaching out to these strangers who are in dire need of assistance. As the world's only Jewish state, I believe Israel has the responsibility to act upon this Jewish value and provide kindness and mercy to the innocent people under its jurisdiction who have gone through immeasurable trauma. Just as the Jewish people were relieved of their suffering in Egypt, it is just and right for the same to occur to the Eritrean and Sudanese peoples. We, as a global collective, have known too much suffering, and now is the time to help end any suffering when we have the opportunity. And now, Israel has its opportunity.