During my time in Rome, I was able to do my service learning at the Joel Nauma Refugee Center. Located below St. Paul’s, the refugee center is a place for refugees from all over the Middle East, Asia, Africa, and some parts of Europe to come to a safe haven. There, aid and assistance is given out to those who seek it. Tea and snacks are provided daily as well as a selection of clothes and toiletries. The refugees who go to the center are all male. Many of them have been forced out of their countries and are trying to return home, while others have been traveling around Europe for a long time, never setting in one place for more than a few months. The center provides refugees with a warm place during the day to come and gather with others who are in the same dilemma as them. People from the same places can come and share their language. News and bulletins from around the world are available for the men to read and watch. There are also programs, such as English and Italian classes, offered to refugees in order to help them adjust to their time in Italy. The Joel Nafuma Refugee Center is more than just a place for these people to go, it’s a place they can rely on.
The first time I went to service learning, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I remember meeting with a bishop, who gave us a brief overview of their mission and the work we would be helping with. One thing that stood out to me at the time, was when he warned the girls about their dress. He said that girls should be careful about what they wear; no short skirts or low cut tops. His words made me a little nervous for what to expect when our first “real day” would arrived. I had images of refugees being unwelcoming or acting like inappropriately. On the first day, we also were able to go down and look at the refugee center. Since it was past two, there were no more refugees there. There was plenty of artwork on the walls, giving me a taste of what they people might be like. After our orientation, I still felt nervous about what to expect. I viewed the refugees as people I needed to help and who would be receptive of the services we would offer, but I soon realized that they didn’t always want our help.
The center is run solely by the efforts of several volunteers. One of which is Tuana, a man I barely had the chance to get to know. From what I observed, he worked tirelessly to operate and run the center. There were a couple other volunteers I was able to meet while working at the center, like Sandra and Salva. I was amazed at how hard these people worked and the modesty of their actions. Throughout the quarter we went to the center every Tuesday morning and Thursday afternoon. Tuesday became my favorite day to go since there was more for us to do. In the mornings some of us were able to help Salva prepare the tea, while a few others worked with Sandra to hand stuff out to the refugees. Those who prepared the tea would work in the kitchen and be responsible for making, pouring and handing out the tea. When the tea was ready to be passed out, a refugee would be asked to hand out the snacks, which were usually individually wrapped cornetti (croissants) or five or six little cracker cookies. The line for tea would wrap around the center and on most mornings there was enough tea for some refugees to get a second cup. Unfortunately, I was never able to help out with tea too much on Tuesday mornings, since I usually worked with Sandra handing out supplies to the refugees. Before tea we would pass out toiletries, like razors, tissues, shampoo, cologne, and lotion. After tea was served we handed out clothes and other provisions. While some of us worked with Sandra, the others usually went into the classroom to host an English class. On Thursdays since, there wasn’t anything to help with, like tea or handing out supplies, we would all go into the classroom and teach an English class or help those who wanted to learn how to use the computer. Our English classes were usually all over the place, from learning how to tell time to saying names to learning words and phrases that would be beneficial in the job market. Each lesson was different and there were always new faces attending the classes. Every time we held class, the lessons and people would always be as a little different from the last.
Before coming to Rome, the only teaching experience I’d had, was teaching swimming lessons at a local pool, but trying to teach English is a whole other world! I never realized how hard it is to teach someone something that I’ve grown up doing. Often I found myself trying to break things down more than they had to be, since I’m so used to teaching younger students. I forgot that these were adults who understand basic concepts. It was also hard to teach classes since there were always new people attending. Since many of the refugees are constantly moving, people who attend class one week could be gone by the next. It was hard to develop a relationship with people when their attendance was inconsistent. Language lessons were hard and deciding what to teach mainly ended up with us asking them what they wanted to learn. Many times they responded saying that they wanted to learn how to speak and pronounce words in English. I believe they wanted to speak English so that they fit in. Since English is a universal language, knowing it is better than speaking their native languages. It also makes them appear as if they fit in more.
Getting to work with Sandra on Tuesdays were my favorite service learning days. With Sandra’s guidance I began to communicate with the refugees. Through a combination of hand motions, my little Italian, and their little bit of English I soon started recognizing the words for the items. Facileta or softi meant tissues and gillet paired with a shaving motion meant a razor. I also became familiar with the words for shampoo, lotion and cologne. Handing out the little things was easy after the first few times, but giving out clothes was tougher. All the clothes the center passes out are brought in through donations. Socks used to be bought by the church and then passed out, but due to a lack of funds, they are no longer available. Sometimes Sandra goes out of her way to buy socks or other items of clothing that certain refugees need. Pants, socks and shirts seemed to be the most wanted item. Shoes were also in high demand, but often there aren’t many to give out. One thing that I noticed when handing out clothes was how picky the refugees sometimes were. When I first started, I thought that since many of the refugees had nothing, they wouldn’t be so selective about their attire; that they would take whatever people presented to them. I was surprised to see how choosey they were. If the pants I held up for them weren’t what they wanted, they left without pants. Many times, they came wanting a jacket, but the only jackets the center had to give were business suit coats, which remained there for along time since the refugees didn’t want them. The selectiveness in their attire made me wonder why they didn’t take whatever they could. I believe that having the ability to choose what they wear gives them a sense of pride and ownership. Being forced out of a country and left with nothing can really bring a person down, but even the small things such as being able to choose the clothes they wear can give them a sense of dignity. They still have the right to choose what they want to put on their bodies. I believe it also ties into the integration factor as well. Italian’s definitely have a distinct way of dressing and what a person wears can make them seem like an inside or outsider. Like one of the stories in Multicultural Literature in Contemporary Italy, Light Beer and Peanuts, the main character feels the need to straighten her curly hair in order to fit into Italian society. Having straight hair or dressing like an Italian are signs of those who fit and those who stand out. Although it’s a small act, the ability to choose the donated clothes at the refugee center is a small act that speaks volumes.
Working with Sandra was an amazing experience. Sandra was an inspiration to me during my time volunteering at the refugee center and will continue to be one of my personal heroes. Even if we had refugees who were demanding or would treat her with disrespect, she never once lost her temper. Sandra usually works by herself on Tuesday handing out stuff. I can’t imagine how tiring it must be, for me one day was exhausting! After my first day with her I expressed to her that the work she does was truly amazing; her reply was that it was nothing; that she only does a little. I couldn’t believe how humble she was about what she was doing. Many of the refugees at the center call Sandra more than just a volunteer at the center she is a friend. She told us how just the other week an Afghan refugee had called her in the middle of the night to see if she could do anything about a boat of refugees that was sinking. The only thing she could think of doing was giving the number of the Coast Guard to the refugee in hopes that they would provide more help that she could. This little instances shows how much the refugees count on her and what her relationship means to them. Sandra may only be a volunteer but she provides more than just clothes and supplies to them, she is someone they know and can trust in Italy.
After a few visits I started getting acquainted with the refugees there. I started seeing familiar faces and to remember the names of those who were consistently there. I became used to the stares we would get when we first entered and how no one ever really approached us. I remember thinking before I even started, that I would have this wonderful experience there, hopefully connecting with the refugees and learning their stories. What I didn’t expect to run into was the language barrier. I never realized how hard it would be to communicate with them. My limited Italian and their small amount of English only let me get as far as “what’s your name”, “how are you”, and “where are you from”? Only being able to ask those questions, to the limited amount of refugees who know Italian, made me rethink what kind of experience I would have at the center. Despite my inability to communicate with many of them, I felt my relationship with Sandra grow as I got to know her better. There was a point during one of our visits when a young boy, about nine years old, was limping around. WE found out that a car had hit him earlier that day. Sandra immediately tried to find someone to take him to the hospital, but soon realized that no one would. She decided that she would take him, leaving Marson and I to run the window (where we handed out supplies and clothes) ourselves. I was a little nervous at first and was unsure how the language barriers would prevent us from doing as good of a job as Sandra. By the end of our visit I felt as though I had accomplished something. I had helped these refugees. Even if it was something as small as handing out a toothbrush or giving someone a pair of pants, every little bit had helped in one way or another. My experience at the refugee center has opened my eyes to those less fortunate. The stories they share and the obstacles they have overcome makes them who they are. Each refugee has a story, a life, and a future.
Some further questions I have are what happens to the women and children, do they refugees keep traveling or do they make Italy their home, and do they ever eventually get to return back home? In order to answer these questions, I believe that I would need to talk with the refugees; maybe learn their languages and develop a relationship with them.
The Joel Nafuma Refugee Center caters to a wide variety of refugees; people from all over who have been forced out of their homes and away from their families. I can’t imagine going through what these people have overcome. Visiting the refugee center has made me realize just how lucky I am to live where I want to and to be with my family. I’m thankful for the freedoms of America and the luxuries that I have. The work the refugee center does may not seem like a lot, but it makes a difference.
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