The Reclamation Project

 in·te·gra·tion — noun

 

So, What Does Integration Look Like?

 Good question. And it’s one that TRP has been on journey in understanding for almost 9 years now. Depending on who you are, this word could carry with it some negative connotations. It certainly did not leave a favorable taste in the mouths of many who lived in the deep south during the Civil Rights era. However, at TRP, we’d like to think that the essence of the word suggests an opportunity for each of us to learn more about what it’s like to walk in the shoes of another. This developing sense of compassion and understanding is what empowers us toward building a better community. 

 

This month, we’d like to share a few short stories of how our wonderful volunteers and some refugee friends have entered into this process of integration… perhaps it’s not as illusive, or intrusive, as we might think.

“We don’t accomplish anything in the world alone…whatever happens is the result of the whole tapestry of one’s life and all the weavings of individual threads from one to another that creates something.”

 ~Sandra Day O’Connor

~Other News~

  ”2614”

Are you an Artist?

We’d love to have you join us in a little project!

Our office and meeting space at the Rialto Gallery (photo on right) could use some help in updating the address numbers in the window. Sure, we could just go out and buy some new fancy numbers and hang ‘em up. But why do that when there are so many creative people in the community who might enjoy helping us out?

We are looking for expressions of ”2614” that can either be painted on the window, placed on the sill, hung or sculpted so that they can be displayed and seen from inside our window. And we are hoping for multiple creations that we can rotate throughout the year, along with information about the artist behind the work.

If you are someone who likes to create, we’d love to hear from you! Contact us at 260.494.5742, orangie@thereclamationproject.org

More than Teachers…

~ ~

 I went to another wedding this weekend. …I saw one of my favorite students … He’s seventy years old. His wife speaks English very well and finished university back in Burma.  He gave one of the speeches, (during the reception) and I guess he’s just as funny in Zo as he is in English!  I got some pictures of myself with the students, and my picture with him is my favorite.

 ~Joel

 

  ~ ~ ~

 

…(my students) turned the A/C on for me yesterday after I sweated through class last week….I could tell they did it for me because it was running when I walked in (and) became cooler as class went on. I haven’t even turned on the A/C in my own house!  Anyway, I’ve noticed more students 
(improving) trying to answer my questions, which is awesome. 

Did you Catch This?

When people are engaged, equipped and empowered, the whole community wins!

 

Or send a check to:

The Reclamation Project

2614 S Calhoun St

Fort Wayne IN 46807

 in·te·gra·tion

 

So, What Does Integration Look Like?

 Good question. And it’s one that TRP has been on journey in understanding for almost 9 years now. Depending on who you are, this word could carry with it some negative connotations. It certainly did not leave a favorable taste in the mouths of many who lived in the deep south during the Civil Rights era. However, at TRP, we’d like to think that the essence of the word suggests an opportunity for each of us to learn more about what it’s like to walk in the shoes of another. This developing sense of compassion and understanding is what empowers us toward building a better community. 

 

This month, we’d like to share a few short stories of how our wonderful volunteers and some refugee friends have entered into this process of integration… perhaps it’s not as illusive, or intrusive, as we might think.

“We don’t accomplish anything in the world alone…whatever happens is the result of the whole tapestry of one’s life and all the weavings of individual threads from one to another that creates something.”

 ~Sandra Day O’Connor

 More than Teachers…

~ ~

 I went to another wedding this weekend. …I saw one of my favorite students … He’s seventy years old. His wife speaks English very well and finished university back in Burma.  He gave one of the speeches, (during the reception) and I guess he’s just a

I love pictures. I can sit with my kids and look at photo album after photo album. Yes, it’s true I still get my pictures printed AND put them in photo albums. I believe it’s not just “nice” to look back at old pictures, but it’s significant to take time to reflect on the past and see how far we have come today. Looking through a few old flash drives the other day, I came across some old pictures from our “early years” at the Rialto (back in 2004 & 2005) and thought they would be fun to post. Some of these areas look the same, but then there are some huge improvements too. We have had hundreds and hundreds of volunteers in that cavernous hulk of a building over the years. People that have been committed to our journey to create a welcoming place for people from all over the City as well as all over the world. It will be a glorious place to see completed one day, but for now enjoy a glimpse at the work days of long ago:-)

All I Receive from Teaching & Giving

My experience with refugees, in particular the Burmese, has been an amazing gift. My efforts have ranged from being a classroom buddy for several elementary school kids, to organizing a “kitchen garden project,” to teaching English to a group of adults.

Unfortunately, along this trail I hear people say “they never show up on time,” or “I give them something and it disappears.” Sometimes I hear, “they ask for things that are very expensive.”

On the surface that sounds like people are talking about a very selfish and unappreciative group, but my few years of being alongside these wonderful Burmese people has given me a perspective that one doesn’t typically get by watching from the sidelines. Yes, their sensitivity to time is different, but if I had spent 17 years of my life in a detention camp, I probably would lose sight of time also. I’ve found that the reason gifts (clothing, food, strollers, furniture) disappear is because they give them to someone that they feel needs it more. And yes they may ask for my car, but again, think of their perspective. Most of us have two cars and nice homes and they have 17 years on average in a detention camp with very little. And here they are, living with very little again.

Being a friend to many of the refugees has become a passion for me, maybe for selfish reasons. The joy that I feel when a seven-year-old in school (for the first time) is placed in age appropriate 2^nd grade and gets 10 out of 10 spelling words correct is priceless. Or perhaps the joy of hearing, “Mr. Hy, thank you for helping feed my baby.” Sometimes it’s just the giggles of several Burmese ladies who aren’t afraid to get on a Citilink bus anymore because we took a ride to the mall together.

Who benefits more from our relationship? I bet it’s me.

God has given me many gifts but the opportunity to be with and work with people less fortunate than me has made me a better person and given me friends I’ll have forever. The Reclamation Project has been instrumental in giving me the skills to be a friend to our new neighbors. If you’re not involved, get involved. You don’t need to be a teacher, nurse or executive. Just bring your heart and become a friend.

Heroes, Black History & Refugees

Imagine a society where there are no heroes.

A place and time where there are no stories of people who have endured, fought, or risen above injustice.

It’s hard for me to imagine a society like this. I grew up hearing and learning about all kinds of people and movements in our history that stood for or against all sorts of things. It seems natural to consider that people should and do have a voice that stems from convictions held deep within. Perhaps we don’t all agree on what to stand for or against, but the notion of being free to ‘stand’ is woven into the essence of our American fabric.

This is not the case for everyone in the world.

The freedom to speak, stand, and advocate on behalf of self or others does not exist in much of the world. There is a great cost to assert a position against injustice. And it is places like that which tend to produce the worst kind of suffering and injustice this world knows. These places are the ones that yield conditions where people must seek refuge because their government is either unable or unwilling to provide protection and justice that they seek.

The DR Congo is one of these places.

Recently, two dear friends of The Reclamation Project journeyed into the DRC as part of a team working on a peace building project. Their mission was to encourage local church leaders to stand against the violence and injustice inflicted on so many in their society by choosing Love instead of Hate, by choosing the Strength of Integrity instead of the Weakness of Corruption, and by Believing that their Faith calls them to something better than the forces of destruction that dominate their world. The time our friends spent there was tremendous, even in the midst of trials and danger.

But one thing that came as a great surprise to them (and me) was the fact that these church leaders had no knowledge of Heroes of Justice from their own society, or any other. They had never heard of Ghandi. They had never heard of Dr Martin Luther King, Jr. They had no example of others who faced adversity and injustice and had led others in doing the same. How could this be!? As someone who grew up in a culture that has practiced observances such as Black History Month, I realize more now than before that observances like this may have more bearing on injustice than I’ve ever considered. Hearing stories of Black Americans rising above injustice not only acknowledges and respects accomplishments made by so many, but it helps us to also keep in view the inspiration which moves people to action.

It’s amazing what the stories of modern heroes can do in providing inspiration and encouragement. When we are able to see that we are not alone, that others have endured and stood for Peace and Justice, we find the strength to take the next right step in our pursuit of what we believe to be good and true.

Every society needs heroes. And as we choose to observe Black History during this month, may I also suggest we choose to appreciate and acknowledge those who continue to stand against adversity and injustice, locally and abroad.

TRP is grateful for the legacy of Black Americans who have helped strengthen the integrity of our communities, even in the midst of adversity. And we are thankful for our refugee friends and the many volunteers who choose to enter into the issues of injustice that so many have endured.

You are our heroes.

Post by Angie Harrison, TRP Executive Director

This post is written by a dear friend, Lisa Miller, who is a long time supporter of TRP and a fellow seeker of justice in our world.

                          

Penelakut Island. When spoken, those two words immediately take us 16 short-term trip participants far away to a place where two cultures connected profoundly and lovingly this past summer.

Prior to our departure to the 8-square kilometer island off the coast of Vancouver Island in British Columbia, our team trained and prayed. Our Frontline missionaries, who left Indiana in ’97 to live and serve First Nations people in British Columbia, helped prepare and guide us. We were keenly aware of the potential challenges and risks for all involved as we anticipated our week together with the Penelakut First Nations. Our team, made up of seven children, ages 6-13, and nine adults, learned about Penelakut history, culture and way of life.

We honed in on one long, painful legacy of Penelakut history – forced native assimilation into western culture through residential schools. From 1840 until the 1990’s, these schools were maintained and run by both the Canadian government and Christian churches. The goal of these schools was nothing short than to “kill the Indian in the Child.” Children were separated from their families, were punished for speaking in their native tongue, and were exposed to overcrowding and poor sanitary conditions, which led to the increased spread of tuberculosis among the children. Many children were both physically and sexually abused.

Until the 1970’s, one such school existed on Kuper Island, which recently was renamed Penelakut Island to reflect the identity of the nation that inhabits it. The Penelakut Adult Education Center now stands where the old residential school used to be, and, interestingly, that was where our team stayed this summer. We could look out any number of windows on the west side of the building and see the former residential school’s concrete steps just below, steps that far too many children were forced to climb, leaving their families and culture behind. We could only imagine the long-lasting effects on these children, many who now live on Penelakut Island as elders. They have stories and memories that we never expected to hear first-hand. But we did. Ironically, God used both the children to bring our two cultures together through a simple game of soccer!

On the second evening of our week on the island, about 30 kids and adults gathered for the evening soccer game, while several adults stood and cheered from the sidelines. Pleasant conversations took place between several Indiana and Penelakut people. Along with another woman from our team, I was getting to know one particular elder, who was very warm and engaging. His grandchildren and our children were playing soccer together as we chatted and watched.

We learned about Jim and his family and a little bit about his background. My friend and I listened intently as he shared from his heart-searing past at the residential school. Without going into much detail, he shared about the hatred and anger he had felt about one priest in particular who had abused him as a child. Jim shared that he was scarred from that point on and had difficulty knowing how to love. To illustrate this sad reality, Jim also shared that he had been through four marriages. The eyes of my friend and mine filled with tears as Jim shared about what it meant to lose his dignity as an Indian man. We felt humbled that this man shared something so personal and hurtful with two people who probably sounded and looked like the people who ran that residential school.

Jim also told us that he’d like to show us the residential school’s marching band drum that he claimed before the building was demolished. Back when the school was operational, the drum was strictly used for a marching band – yet another reflection of the efforts to assimilate native people into “white” ways. Using it for cultural ceremonies was forbidden. He told us that the back side of the drum has an image of the Virgin Mary, but it is now completely obscured by duct tape.  

Throughout the week, several from our team sought opportunities to connect with Jim and other new friends from Penelakut. The culmination of our time together fell on the night before our team departed, when we hosted a cookout for the community. Both adults and children from both cultures had formed meaningful friendships and were enjoying the gathering. We sought to thank the Penelakut people for their hospitality and for their friendship. But they completely blew us away. We were officially welcomed and thanked by several elders, our Penelakut missionary friend offered a prayer of thanksgiving to the Creator, and then Jim showed up with his drum.

Together with a small circle of his children and grandchildren, Jim sang and played on that old residential school drum. The symbolism of his beating the drum that reads “Kuper Island Residential School” left a profound image on our hearts. More than that, we were humbled and blessed by the gift of music shared with us, the music that is typically reserved for Penelakut celebrations.

Our team went to Penelakut Island to show the real love of God to a people whose history is literally marked by one cursor: life before Christianity was forced into their culture and life after, a time of struggle to reclaim their heritage. But we left the island overwhelmed by the love of God for us demonstrated through the Penelakut people. We learned that children are “the universal language,” and our love for them can bring any two cultures together, especially through a game of soccer! 

So now our team members live with parts of our hearts remaining on Penelakut Island and with Jim, Sebastian, Della, Amanda, Ida, Denean, Riley, Robin, Dalton, Justine, and so many others. Our story is about reconciliation and hope. I know many of the Penelakut people who love us still despise Christianity and what it represents to them. We desire to be Christ to the Penelakut people, which is painfully at odds with the agonizing experience of the residential school. How long will they be able to love us and not judge Christ by the agonizing past but by His presence in us?

Burmese refugee integration course at IPFW: Continuing effects?

"Let us touch the dying, the poor, the lonely and the unwanted according to the graces we have received and let us not be ashamed or slow to do the humble work."

—    Mother Teresa

“the times - they are a-changin’”

Figure 1 Fall leaves of Huntington, IN by Garrett Martin

People like to say, “the times - they are a-changin’.”  They get that from Bob Dylan’s song of the same title.  The lyrics of the song remind us that there are things changing all around us.  Dylan concludes with a recommendation: “Then you better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone. For the times they are a-changin’”

There is a lot of change in our lives.  Just look at the trees outside: we live in a part of the country that bravely declares the changes coming!  Recently, my pastor has been preaching on the changes that the resurrection brought to the disciples.  They knew Jesus one way – they were not quite prepared for the Jesus AFTER the resurrection.  After all, they had never SEEN a resurrected body before!

I teach many refugees who are adjusting to life in the United States.  They adjust to a new language, a new currency, new foods, different modes of transportation, different communication styles, different clothing, different temperatures; almost every day a refugee in Fort Wayne must change.  Recently one of my students shared a change with me: her brother is ill with cancer and she must leave Ft. Wayne to go care for him.  He lives in another city.  She has just barely adjusted to life in this city.  She has figured out how to live and go to school here.  And now another change for her…

Change is here to stay.  Have you read the news lately?  Just open your newspaper and read about the many changes that face us every morning.

Catherine Kasper Place closing in January creates yet another change for our refugees.  I know many are wondering where they will find the services they need to continue to help them adjust to the changes all around.  [The Reclamation Project is blessed with the Rialto location and there are no plans to move …] 

  Fort Wayne refugee resource center to close          http://www.journalgazette.net/article/20111101/LOCAL/311019958

 Elected Myanmar government offers taste of change          http://www.journalgazette.net/article/20111108/NEWS0402/111109605

 Library offers e-books   http://www.journalgazette.net/article/20111108/FEAT/311089982

Myanmar’s government is changing; even the library is changing!  At least we know, as we are faced with daily changes in our world, that God is consistent and unchanging in His character.  God even used change to prove His existence in Exodus 7:17.   Over and over in Scripture God shows us that He does not change.  {Try Psalm 55:19, Malachi 3:6, James 1:17 for reassurance}.  My prayer for us is that we can be consistent for our refugee friends and so reflect God’s character to them: available to help and unchanging in hope for their successful integration in Fort Wayne.

Martha Martin - TRP friend and ENL teacher

  

  

An International Language

Last Wednesday I attended a “house warming” party for five refugee families. The party was hosted by the Circle of Friends who have chosen to come alongside these Congolese families.  I have to say, the party was the most invigorating house warming I’ve ever been part of.  We sang, danced a little, prayed, and ate, of course—very American cupcakes and snacks.  I learned, kind of, a praise song in Swahili and realized again that praise and worship is an international language.

I chatted with Ben who is part of the Circle, and he shared some of the challenges of trying to overcome communication barriers.  I could see that this new ministry was a stretch but also that he had a heart that was so eager and willing to serve.  I watched him smile as he interacted with our new friends from Congo, and realized again, that all God needs is a willing heart.

The highlight of the evening was a conversation my husband and I had with Jean Pierre.  Jean Pierre was a student at a university when he had to seek refuge in a camp.  After five years, he was able to come to the United States.  The other refugees in the room were all relatives.  Jean Pierre is fluent in at least three languages.  I had barely asked two questions about him before he began asking us questions about us.  Soon the conversation was all about how we can trust God because He is faithful.  And Jean Pierre was encouraging us to pray and ask God to provide.

The faith of these refugees from Congo makes my own look pale.  As we drove home, I pondered what it would be like to have to escape from my home, what it would be like to live in a camp, what it would be like to resettle in another country where the culture is so different and the language unknown.  I couldn’t fathom what it would be like.  I stand in awe of my brothers and sisters from Congo: their courage, their faith, their hope, their resiliency.

Pam Jordan, TRP friend