You are my Friend

The news that we will be building shelters for nursing mothers came as the perfect representation of the coming Christmas.  It suddenly made a lot of sense to welcome every small baby and their mothers who were coming from God knows how far – from Syria, Iraq, even Afghanistan. We quickly understood that it was not us delivering gifts to them. They became a precious gift to us.

So the threatening look and feel of the camp, emerging grey from the thick fog, became just a brilliant stage set for the next play in our lives.  It was time to leave the fancy costumes behind, and put on the heavy work suits and stoop down into the mud. It was time for the fingers used to playing an instrument, to be bruised by nails and hammers.

Did we curse when hammer missed the nail?  Did we argue with each other and with ourselves?  Oh, yes!  And for that each of us asked for forgiveness - from our Master and from each other. But the point was that the lower we got, the more mud we tasted, the colder we got, the more the white buildings grew.

One day, Conrad and I dropped the tools and went around the corner to help with yet another group of refugees coming by a special refugee train. I do not know any more who it was, but someone gave me a bag and told me, "It is full with the winter stuff: gloves and hats and scarfs".  I started taking loads of that stuff into my arms and moved into the crowd, observing who needed that extra protection from cold.  I made sure I matched colors, especially for the women. 

I gave one man a scarf and I immediately observed his son was in great need of winter clothes, which I did not have. I only had a hand full of scarfs.  I chose one and gave it to him - it was a nice one, with many colors, the kind you can wear around your neck, or transform it into a head band, or even into a nice, warm hood.  The little boy loved it!  He was smiling and smiling and smiling.  He was addressing his father in their own language.  And suddenly he turned to me and said, "You are my friend!". And he kept smiling.  And then I did the most stupid thing. Because I didn't know what else to do - I ruffled his dark hair and I turned around and... left.

Keeping a sense of fashion in the middle of that dirty madness; and putting our hearts out, filled with the holy touch of friendship - bold signs of humanity, as the cold and wet and dark slime of death is visiting the nations! That was just a little bit of how we, a small group of friends from several countries, learned more about humanity and grace, suspended in time and fog, just before Christmas 2015 in the Croatian Refugee Camp in Slavonski Brod.

Liviu Bocaniala

Who are the Refugees

ROM Response Team, Croatia, December 2015

Violeta and Conrad Altmann

With a pinch of humor (a lot of it actually), a touch of humanity, forgetting for a moment that they are refugees (purposely or not) these people are coping with their reality keeping a sense of normality, or trying to.


So who are the refugees?

They are the old lady who was in need of winter boots. We found purple ones in her size. But she said: “I’m old, do you have them in black?”

The lady was asking for a warm sweater for her. Then she said for baby. She switched the request a few times and I thought to myself “make up your mind lady”. I went close to check over the barrier to see the kid but what I saw was that she was pregnant. She wanted a maternity sweater. The next time this happened I caught on faster. 

The couple carrying a large blanket. They were asking for a little bit of milk. As it turned out they had two newborn babies (twins) in the blanket. They were two days old. They went to the pediatrician tent and got aid. The babies were born while fleeing… Who knows under what conditions. The journey from Syria, Turkey – Greece – Macedonia – Serbia – Croatia – Slovenia – Germany… by boat, foot and train. 

The little kid who came to our Palestinian team member and said “I’m so cold!”. She grabbed the first gloves in her reach and put them on the kids hands. They were orange. His face lit up. He went and grabbed his sister and asked if she could get gloves too. They were so jolly …just because of some colorful gloves. 

The refugees are the mother with four kids, 7 years old and under. Three of them needed newer shoes but couldn’t say what size. Conrad moved to the side and helped a girl take one of her broken sneakers off. I went to find a good pair for her. And she kept her cold little foot on Conrad’s knee as she waited and he helped her put the shoes on. Conrad was so gentle with them. We found shoes for all and they were so grateful. They all said thank you for every little thing they received. And they would not take more than they needed.

The man who knew what shoe size would fit his sister, at a glance. Because in Syria he owned a shoe-shop. 

The teenage girl with a strong opinion about what she would wear or not. She whispered to her mother “I will never wear those pants!” they were the wrong color. My friend who understood the language gracefully offered a different pair of pants (purple). The teenage girl’s eyes lit up and said “Yes! Those!” 

Thousands of people passed daily though this very well organized camp. Supported by many humanitarian organizations and police. Everyone was kind, to them, to us.

Treating people with dignity and kindness, regardless of what we assume about their circumstance, will make this world a better place. 

We were in Croatia, not far away from the Bosnian border, building transit shelters for nursing mothers. Over the last few months, over a million people have been in a continuous exodus from their unsafe country. Over the course of the week we saw so many kids. So many!

They are people fleeing political or religious persecution—often violent—from Syria, Iran and Afghanistan. They are mothers, children, fathers, brothers and sisters; business owners, entrepreneurs, designers; Christians, Muslims or people who don’t follow any god. They just want to protect themselves and their families. They are humble, proud, confused and in need. They are people just like us, they think the same way, struggle with the same issues, desire the same cars and clothes and like to hang out at the mall.

Many of us have a hard time imagining who the refugees are that are fleeing their homes and spilling into Europe and the US. The conservative media doesn’t help put things into perspective either, often quite the opposite. Just try to imagine if you had your home destroyed (literally in many cases) and were forced to walk for three months into a country and culture that was totally foreign to you. How would you feel? What if you had to flee from your million dollar home in California and sneak onto a crowded boat to go to China, where they didn’t want you, where they irrationally feared you, where your entire life was on your back and your future was so uncertain that you didn’t know what language you needed to start learning to live.

This is the plight of so many people in need right now. Give money or clothes if you can, volunteer if you can’t. The best way to help is to offer your hand to someone in need.

Violeta and Conrad Altmann

Christmas Metaphor

The first thing I noticed as I entered the Refugee Camp in Slavonski Brod, Croatia less than three weeks ago was a big Christmas tree shining in the middle of the camp. It was a sign of hope in a place through which thousands of the world homeless journey, day and night on their way to a hopefully better place and better future. 

The second thing that made me think about the birth of Jesus every day in the refugee camp were the two shelters our ROM team was building. We were told that they would be used as the nursing places for the refugee mothers with babies during the cold and wet winter months. In a way they would be to the refugee mothers and refugee babies what the sheltering manger was to Mary and the baby Jesus on the cold and uninviting night in Bethlehem the night Jesus was born. 

The third thing that made me reflect on Christmas was the picture of constant movement of refugees - families with children, young and old alike, through the camp and onto the trains ready to take the refugees further, to Slovenia, Austria, Germany. They made me think of how Joseph, Mary and Jesus were forced to run away from their country after Herod had decided to kill the child. In alike manner those refugees are continuing to run for their lives away from their homelands in which the blood-thirsty warlords are seeking to destroy their lives.

And the forth thing that reflected the spirit of Christmas were the volunteers, full of enthusiasm, serving and blessing the refugees with the gifts of warm clothes, hats, gloves, jackets, shoes, food and hot tea in the way the shepherds and the wise men of the East blessed the new born Jesus with their presence and gifts. 

Yes, there is much that links the birth of Jesus with the fate of the millions of refugees and immigrants. In fact, singing “Silent Night, Holy Night” passionately at this time and indulging in many Christmas gifts without noticing or caring about the global movement of the millions of the world homeless will make us hypocritical followers of Jesus, who might be good Christians according to the standards of the popular and convenient Christianity, but are profoundly disconnected with the heart of Jesus.

The same Jesus whom we romantically adore as a helpless baby later in His life said quite seriously, “Whatever you did for the list of those you did for me”. He meant a business because He said He would judge us on the basis of what we do about it.