Why I went to see Black Panther twice

*Beware:  spoilers*

I was really excited about seeing Black Panther, and when I did, last Monday, I loved it.

I loved the issues it addressed such as, "Should a wealthy country shut itself in to protect its way of life, or should it help others?" It touched my heart for very obvious reasons - after all, I work among refugees.

I felt encouraged to see so many positive, funny, smart, powerful (in the good sense of the term, not in the political sense) Black male AND female characters. I loved seeing those female warriors kicking ass!

I loved seeing what *could* have happened if African countries had been able to benefit from their own natural resources and build national wealth from it, rather than having it robbed from them by colonialists.

I felt moved by the villain's storyline and felt sympathetic to a lot of his grievances (even though I disagreed with his methods to try and put things to rights). He was a very human and relatable character, I thought. And when he said, "the world will be reborn, and this time, WE'll be on top", I felt deeply the pain of a people who have been oppressed, enslaved, exploited and discriminated against, not to mention having seen their resources plundered (including by my own country) - and yet I felt a pang as I thought, "As long as someone is on top, it means someone is at the bottom". And so what the villain wanted to create, no matter what his initial motivations were, was another injustice.

I loved how, when Jabari leader M'Baku is offered the chance to take the Black Panther's power by taking the Heart-Shaped Herb, he chooses to help T'Challa instead, when he could so easily grab power for himself.

And especially, I loved hearing the king of Wakanda's speech to the United Nations at the end:

Wakanda will no longer watch from the shadows. We can not. We must not. We will work to be an example of how we, as brothers and sisters on this earth, should treat each other. Now, more than ever, the illusions of division threaten our very existence. We all know the truth: more connects us than separates us. But in times of crisis the wise build bridges, while the foolish build barriers. We must find a way to look after one another, as if we were one single tribe.

So I decided to take African asylum seekers to see it as a treat.

And then the debate begun as one of my colleagues argued that only taking African people see it was unfair. Well, yes and no. We are organizing special activities on Women's Day, for example... and you could argue that's unfair. But the reason we do it it to do something nice for people who have been oppressed one way or another. I thought this movie was uplifting and positive for the African community. We ended up going with 14 African people of both sexes (from Guinea, Sudan, Burkina Faso, Rwanda, Angola, Senegal), one Iraqi guy and a young Albanian girl. They loved the film. They giggled when T'Challa freezes upon seeing his ex-girlfriend Nakia. They roared with laughter when Shuri points to T'Challa's sandals, asking, "What are those???" They loved it when Agent Ross tries some whitesplaining on M'Baku, the Jabari leader, who proceeds to silence him by barking at him, together with his guards. They even applauded when the movie ended.

On the way back, I was driving the van and I remained silent. I could have told them why I took them to see this film. I could have told them what I loved about it, what my favourite moments were. But I decided not to. Because it was their film, their moment. I wanted to give them ownership of it and not rob it from them by putting my white words and emotions on their experience.

So I listened to them chat excitedly about it, discussing which countries and tribes inspired the costumes. And then, one of the guys said, "That was good." His friend approved, "Yeah, that was good". And in that moment, I felt filled with joy, as when two other guys came up to me before going back to their rooms, saying, "Thank you for taking us. It was your idea, thank you."

#OneTribe

Wake up.

I have been saying for a while now that the rise of fascism worries me. When I say this, friends and relatives look at with a patronizing smile and I can tell they think I'm over-reacting.

Yet, recent events show that there is real cause for concern. What happened in Charleston is a prime example. A Christian author who came as part of a counter protest writes this:

"Many came dressed in white shirts and khaki pants, reminding me of office workers or WalMart employees. Many wore helmets and carried hand-made shields. They looked like they came expecting to fight, threaten, and intimidate. Some came in paramilitary garb, heavily armed."

In the US, White supremacists are uniting in an organized way, expressing their ideas proudly, and coming to demonstrations armed and ready to fight. In Europe, they are openly declaring themselves; they organize boot camps to train; and raise funds to launch a boat whose sole purpose is to send refugees back where they came from.

I you wonder what you would have done during the rise of Nazism in Germany, YOU ARE DOING IT RIGHT NOW. 

Are you looking for scapegoats for everything you feel is wrong in today's society? In the 1930s, it was Jews, today it's refugees, Muslims, Blacks, Hispanics, oh and Jews too for good measure. 

Are you just living your lives in indifference? Do you shrug it off or turn a blind eye?

Or do you speak out, do you extend to hand of friendship to people who are different to you, do you educate yourself?

If you care about people's lives, if you strive to love and accept people no matter where they come from, please wake up. This is happening.

WAKE UP. Fascism is on the rise and human lives are at stake. Wake up.

Islam - no way out?

Sometimes I hear a sentence that just startles me and makes me want to scream in frustration. Maybe that makes me a "snowflake", but there are things that I cannot let pass.

Recently, a Christian friend and I were discussing Islam and I explained someone I know was contemplating converting to Islam. I saw it as a positive, because the lady in question came from an atheist background and embarked on a spiritual search. My friend, however, did not see it quite in the same way.

"I wonder if she realises that once converted to Islam, she has no way out - all schools of sharia law prescribe either imprisonment or death for apostasy".

My initial reaction was to want to bang my head against the wall. There are so many things that are wrong with this statement I don't even know where to start...

First and foremost, we live in Belgium, where religious freedoms are protected by law: people may not only choose their religion, but change it if they wish. This means if my friend became a Muslim, she could change her mind afterwards. Moreover, if her Muslim friends are open-minded, they will respect her choice either way. I personally know a young girl who converted to Christiniaty from a Muslim background, and her family respected and supported her choice.

I love and respect the Muslims I've come to know. I feel blessed to count them as friends, and I get sad and angry when people tar them all with the same brush. When they ask me about my faith I always tell them I am a Christian. I have never felt any hostility from them, quite the opposite. They are some of the most respectful and hospitable people I have ever met. In addition, I have great respect for their piety. Who among us Christians prays 5 times a day, or fasts for 40 days, or learns significant portions of Scripture by heart? Their devotion is an inspiration. Of course, this doesn't mean I want to become a Muslim myself - I have explained before how and why I chose to follow Jesus.

"All schools of sharia law prescribe either imprisonment or death for apostasy" is a blanket statement that fails to consider the diversity that exists within Islam. True, some fringes of Islam want to impose sharia law throughout the world, which includes severe punishment for apostasy. But the key words here are "some fringes". Not all Muslims are Wahhabi - the fundamentalist, often violent branch of Islam who want to "spread purified Islam through the world, both Muslim and non-Muslim", only making up 0.5% of the global Muslim population (source: Wikipedia). There is a lot of diversity in Muslim doctrine (just like there are many branches of Christianity), from the most fundamentalist to the most progressive, and from decidedly violent to completely non-violent.

Finally, I think such talk about Islam goes against the teachings of Jesus. Equating the whole of Islam with violent fundamentalism is a narrative that, sadly, I have heard in some churches. In fact, I used to believe it… It presents Islam as a frightful threat, and Muslims as would-be invaders who want to take over the world, by violent means if necessary. As I’ve outline above, not only is it untrue, but it also has a perverse effect. It instils fears and therefore hostility within the hearts of Christians. How can we be effective witnesses of Christ if we feel fear and hostility towards a whole group of people? How can we love them as ourselves if we see them as dangerous enemies? Some Christians’ fear of Muslims is already turning to hatred, and politicians are using it to their advantage. Instead of welcoming the stranger as the Bible commands, many self-professing Christians openly reject them and even claim the need to protect ‘Christendom’ from the ‘Muslim invasion’, by force if necessary… while Christ teaches us that His Kingdom is not of this world anyway.

When confronted to a teaching in church, I try to look at the fruit that teaching produces. Does it bring love, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness? Or does it instil fear, hatred, selfishness, conflict and discord? Ask yourself this.

 

My goals for 2017

I know it’s a week into 2017 already, a little late to write out resolutions. But there are still 358 days to go, so I figure I’m good. I wanted to think carefully about what I would like to achieve this year, and how. Resolutions can be so vague that it makes it all the harder to keep them, because we don’t even know where the heck to start. For this reason, I wanted to reflect upon my priorities, upon the values I would like to cultivate in 2017, and the goals I would like to achieve.

 

As a Christian, my #1 goal is to become more and more like Jesus. I’m not afraid to say it and I’m couldn’t care less if it makes me sound like a religious nutter. To me, it’s not about being a religious nut, but about bearing spiritual fruit (I didn’t come up with that one, but I think it's a great phrase).

To become more like Jesus, I mean to study his life and character more closely than ever. So I have decided not only to read through the gospels again, but also to read (or read again) books that help me know Jesus more and better. I am currently reading NT Wright’s “The Day The Revolution Began: Rethinking the Meaning of Jesus’ Crucifixion”. I will read others, too : Philip Yancey, CS Lewis, Stanley Hauerwas and Rachel Held Evans are on my to-read list.

The issue with sticking to this is that I get distracted easily. And guess what it my main distraction: the Internet. I spend a lot of time on social media. I do not intend to take extreme measures, however, as the Internet is a valuable tool, and social media enables me to keep in touch with loved ones who live far away.

 

I am going to have a day off the internet, every week. It will benefit me in lots of ways. Whenever I want to sit down and concentrate on something, I always think, “Hang on, let me check what’s going on on Facebook first”. If I give myself a day off a week, I will be able to answer myself  back, “Today is your day off, girl. You can always catch up with the world tomorrow.”

 

I intend to study Jesus’ life and character, but there are already numerous things I know about him, so I would like to emulate the aspects of his personality I alread know. Jesus preached non-violence (Matthew 5:5, 9:38-42) and taught us to love our enemies (Matthew 5:43-48). His Kingdom is one where there will be justice and the oppressed will be defended (Matthew 5:6, 7, 10; Matthew 25:34-40, Luke 4:18-21). He told us we were to be recognisable by our love for one another (John 13:34-35). I’m going to try and cultivate those attitudes and actions, through specific courses (I am going to register for a course on non-violent social action and I am going to complete an online Amnesty International course about the rights of refugees). I also want to pray for my enemies - for people I don’t like.

 

In order to reach my goals, here are my resolutions:

 

1. Every Sunday, I will keep off the internet. My laptop will be closed. I will read instead from the New Testament and from Christian authors.

2. I will pray for loved ones every day, even if it’s only for a few minutes.

3. I will write to, make a call to or visit someone every week.

4. Every Friday, I will spend some time praying for people I dislike.

5. I will enrol for the peaceful social action course and attend it; and I will complete the Amnesty International course about the rights of refugees. I will set aside half a day every week to work on the Amnesty course. The day I set aside will depend on my work schedule (it’s different every week) as I will need to be at home to do this, obviously.

6. Every time I want to curse someone (be it a driver who cuts me off, an internet troll or some politicians whose views I abhor), I will say a quick prayer for them.

 

Have a wonderful 2017. Be the change you want to see. Be kind to yourself and to others. Plant flowers; plant hope. Cultivate joy.

 

 

If I am not part of the solution, I am part of the problem.

When Trump first announced he was running as a candidate for the Republican party, I dismissed it as a joke. Then, as months passed, mockery gave way to disbelief, then to anger, frustration and indignation. How could such racism, bigotry, and misoginy appeal to so many people? How could someone whose speeches had no substance and no content convince voters? 

I cried and shouted and poured contempt on Trump supporters, and on all those who supported fascist politicians. I despised them for their perceived stupidity and bigotry and for their hatred. I felt proud that I was "not like them" (Parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector, anyone?).

Tonight, I read this article, and it dawned on me that like any other story, it's not all simple; it's not all black and white. It's not just stubborn Fundies. It's also people who have been left behind by an elitist system, and felt more support was given to minorities than to them. And they have been deceived into believing Trump will fix that. (Or that a fascist European politician will fix that.)

And suddenly it dawned on me. I cannot humilate them into changing their minds. I cannot bully them into behaving like decent human beings. I cannot even try to "educate" them because by doing this, I am only arrogantly putting myself above them. Humiliating and despising them will only reinforce the problem. 

The only helpful, Jesus-like thing I can do is the same thing I have been doing for Muslims in my centre for asylum seekers, despite my initial fears and misgivings about Muslims: love them. Reach out to them. Listen to them. Seek to understand them. Show them empathy.

So this is where I want to start. Holy Spirit, enable me, because I cannot do this on my own.

I want to follow Jesus, and I foolishly believe love will save the world. You may tell me I am a fucking fool. You're most probably right.

Let us fight terrorism

22 March 2016. I was having breakfast when I heard the news. Terrorists had struck Brussels.

I felt immense grief. My heart went out to victims and their families. I have no idea how such pain and terror must feel.

All the same, I remember that this pain and terror is part of daily life for millions of human beings in Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan or Yemen. My heart grieves for those suffering every day all around the world.

And I feel overwhelmed by the same fear and grief than after the Paris attacks: fear for Muslims, as Daesh tries to create a rift between them and the rest of the Western population.  

Just as I did in November, I refuse to be consumed by fear, hostility and hate, and more than ever, I stand by my decision to love my Muslim brothers and sisters and to pray for my enemies. 

I choose love. I choose to fight terrorism in my own way. Would you join me? 

Terrorism, by its very definition, aims to terrorize us, and, in the more specific case of Daesh, to drive us apart from each other through fear, hostility, hate and rejection. If we're scared, the terrorists have won. And if we are overcome by fear and hatred for those who are Muslims, for refugees and strangers, they have won, too. So here is my plan to fight terrorists:

1. Let's not give into fear. Let's not allow them ruin our lives. We will all die, my friends, but, contrary to people in the Middle East, we are very unlikely to die in a terrorist attack. So let's not be afraid to go out, travel, go to big cities such as Brussels, Paris or London. Let's carry on with our lives and enjoy our freedom.

2. Let's not give in to hatred. Let's reach out to the other, the stranger. Let's welcome everyone without prejudice, whatever their nationality, ethnicity, religion; whether they have been living among us for decades or whether they have just arrived as immigrants.

3. Let's build relationships. If we have friends who are from another culture (even - gasp! - Muslims), let's spend time with them, deepen our friendship. Let's ask them about their culture, their passions, their values. We live in a multicultural society: they are among us. They're our neighbours, our colleagues, our local shopkeepers. They sit next to us on public transport. So if we don't know them, let's get to know them! Let's say hello; let's invite them for coffee, for a meal or for a movie.
 
4. Let's get informed. Let's not believe everything we see in the media (especially social media). Let's check information - check sources. Let's read serious articles and books about issues that concern us. Let's talk to people who are insiders and know their stuff: ask Muslims about their faith. If we want to know about refugees, let's ask the refugees and people who work with them (ask me about my work! I love to talk about it. What would you like to know?).
 
5. Let's celebrate diversity - the human race is made up of so many beautifully different people!

6. If we are believers, let's pray. Let's pray for peace, for love, and for unity; let's pray for compassion and mutual understanding. Let's pray for God's Kingdom to come - the Kingdom of reconciliation that Jesus came to bring.

I love this picture of my two friends, Lexi and Sara, because to me it represents friendship beyond our differences. My hope and prayer is that events such as the Paris and Brussels attacks will bring people together, not drive them apart.

Fleeing war

I was 13 when the army invaded. Those who were around the last time it happened had told us about the atrocities they committed, and we were really scared. So, along with many others, my family and I packed a few belongings and fled.

My mother took our little dog along and he became our air strike warning. He would hear - or feel, I'm not sure - the planes before we did, so whenever he started whining, we took cover, often in ditches. My mother would cover us with a big red blanket. I don't know what kind of protection she thought that was! The noise from the planes was terrifying, the bombs were even more so.

We crossed the border, but we were not welcome. Villages had signs saying there was no water for us. We were exhausted. We had to sleep in ditches.

At one point we met another family who came from the same village as we did. One of the boys, who would become my husband once we grew up, wrote me a card. I still have it. But we lost each other again  that time and only saw each other again when we came back to our village.

I understand those people fleeing war. We did the same thing.

- my grandmother

When the German army invaded Belgium in 1940, 2 millions Belgians, Dutch and Luxemburgers fled and became refugees in France.

What is it like to work in a centre for asylum seekers?

So what is it like to work at a Red Cross centre for asylum seekers? Well, it is many things.

It's challenging. 

We house about 500 people from over 10 different nationalities, with a broad range of culture, education and background. Most are Muslims, some are Christians, a few are atheists. Some come from big cities, others from remote villages. We have single men, families (up to 10 children), single women, couples (including a few gay couples) and a few unaccompanied minors (teenagers). There's bound to be tensions and disagreements, and if you don't manage to calm things down and find a compromise everybody agrees on, you may very well have a fight on your hands. 

Because let's face it: this is a human population like any other. Some people are hard-working and offer to help out straight away, others are lazy. Some are kind and meek, others are angry and aggressive. They all have qualities and faults like the rest of us. Being asylum seekers doesn't make them angels (and equally, it doesn't make them demons either!). And all of them are under a huge amount of anxiety and stress, having gone through a rough journey (not to speak about the horrors of war and persecution), being housed in far-from-ideal conditions in a strange country, and living in complete uncertainty about their own future, as they don't know whether and when their asylum request will be granted.

Moreover, the centre is actually an old, de-commissioned hospital. Not only was it not in very good conditions to begin with, but it was never designed to accomodate 500 people. We get daily complaints about leaks, heating or water failures, or broken electrics. To top it all, we are in an rural area. The nearest village is 30 minutes away on foot, and the nearest town is 30 minutes away by bus (and busses don't run at the weekend). Residents feel isolated.

Then there is the language barrier. The majority of them only speak very, very basic English (or none at all), so communication can be a huge issue. When a mother comes to you in a panic, speaking quickly in Farsi while holding her child, and there is no one near who could translate what she is so urgently trying to tell you, it's intensely frustrating and stressful, because you know she needs you, but you can't help her until you've found someone who speaks Farsi AND English.

It's chaotic.

The centre only opened on October 1st, and a lot of repairs and refurbishment had to be done. We've had days when we knew a coach of 50 people would arrive an hour later, and workmen were still putting in showers and kitchens in the block where we were supposed to house them. The beds that were initially ordered turned out to be a disaster, as most of them broke, and we had to order new ones. Some rooms don't have a lock yet, resulting in children pillaging a room where we had stocked donated toys - I wanted to cry when I saw the state of the room afterwards. Fortunately, parents came to help us tidy up. In any case, we're often running around like headless chickens because there is so much to do.

It's heartbreaking. 

One man broke down in tears in front of me after being transferred to our centre. After enduring a dangerous journey, he had been temporarily housed in a camp under tents and had started making himself useful and getting to know people around him, only to be suddendly transferred here where he knew no one and felt useless. It was the last straw for him, and he cried and cried. Another man has no contact with his family at all - they live in Taliban country and he has no idea whether they're alive or dead. Yet another one, aged 24, lost his young son in an explosion.

It's wonderful.

You get to meet people from all walks of life and get a glimpse of their culture. If you're in the hallways at meal times, more often than not you're invited to share food with them. And then, they tell you their stories. They're doctors, engineers, barbers, singers, pilots, plumbers, therapists, artists. Theirs are human stories of joy and pain and loss and hope. A Muslim lady and her husband took a young lesbian couple under their wings - the girls now call them "Mama" and "Papa". Yesterday, a father and his daughter were reunited with his wife and 2 other children - they had been separated during the journey and we helped them trace each other. Seeing a 3-year-old girl scream, "Mama!", run down the corridor and throw herself around her mother's neck, then lifting up her 18-months-old brother and hugging him tight, is priceless.

It's joyful. 

I attended a "mutlicultural party" in another centre nearby. Afghan, Iraqi and Somali people showed us some traditional dancing, culminating in a big round dance where they grabbed by mother, my partner and myself, so we found ourselves in the middle of the dance floor. We're having such a party in our centre tomorrow night and I can't wait!

It's never dull, as we never know what might happen and there's always a funny anecdote waiting to be told. Yesterday, a resident came to me at 6:30 pm asking to see his social worker. I straighfacedly informed him that she had gone home, and that contrary to what it may seem at times, we do not sleep on the premises (we both burst out laughing at that point).

As a Christian, it is a true blessing.

I have a unique opportunity to serve people, and thus, to serve Jesus. When many hostile voices are rising against Muslims and refugees, I can show them love in a practical way (which, in terms of sharing the Gospel, speaks louder than any sermon). I am getting used to seeing different faces and this helps me overcome the fear we naturally feel when confronted to "the stranger". I am daily humbled by people's stories, and by my own lack of patience. I am learning daily to see people as Jesus sees them - beloved children of God. And trust me, that doesn't come easy when the same person comes for the same minor complaint for the third time while you're trying to deal with a sick child, or you have to face an angry, shouting man. It's a blessing, and it's humbling.

I love my job. Truly.

The need to be touched

Last week, I wrote a post about the need to be touched. Today I'd like to share a conversation I've had with one of the Red Cross volunteers who help out at our asylum seekers centre.

This lady is a trained reflexology therapist. She comes twice a week to give free foot reflexology massages to residents. Many of them have had to walk long distances, often with unsuitable shoes; and their feet are in a sore state (no pun intended). Add to that the stress of war trauma and of a perilous journey, the uncertainty about their own future, and the feeling of loss of control over their own lives. Our residents are under a lot of stress, and reflexology can really help. I am incredibly grateful to this lady for giving her time and skills for them. From two anecdotes she recounted, they are grateful too.

Those who come and see her often open up about what they've been through, as the treatment allows them to finally relax. At the end of the session, one of them took her hands in his and thanked her, saying, "You remind me of my mother. I miss her so much!" With that, he burst into tears and ran out of the room.

At the end of his treatment, another one said to her, "Now you sit down, madam." He then gave her a back massage. Turns out he was a trained massage therapist back home.

I think these stories speak from themselves about the importance of touch.

 

Never a dull moment...

Yesterday was fun. In the morning, I had to go around and check room occupancy. Most residents offered me food (which I had to turn down, except once as the man wouldn't let me leave without having some of his tomato and onion scrambled eggs) and one made me a cup of shockingly sweet tea. At some point, I sat on the floor in a corridor to check which rooms I hadn't seen yet - and someone came out and gave me a chair.

I left work on time (for once) after a busy day, singing to myself in the car. As I drove into my village (15 minutes away from the asylum centre), I did a double take. Standing at the crossroads were a dozen residents from my centre. Rather puzzled, I parked the car and walked up to them.

Turns out they were coming back from the train station and had taken the wrong bus. "It's all Mr Abib's* fault", they said, laughing. "He said we had to get on that bus!" There were men, as well as a mother with her two young children. Bear in mind the cold weather is settling now, and it was dark and freezing. I picked up my phone and called the centre, who sent someone with the minibus to pick them up. I waited with them, and phoned Nicholas to warn him I'd be late - but his phone was off. So the residents started asking me about him. "What time does your husband get back from work?" When I explained we had to go buy some food, one of them looked a little puzzled. "Does your husband need to tell you what to buy?" "No, we go shopping together." This earned Nicholas a round of applause, so I added, "He also cooks for me most of the time, you know!" Second round of applause.

Our residents are fun.

(*Name changed for privacy reasons)