Sanctuary by Chris Decker

‫رمأ ىلإ يتأي نأ دحأل‬

‫ا ‪.‬ةصرفلا هذه مهل حاتت نأ عيمجلل‬

‫‪page 08–19‬‬

‫‪issue No. 1‬‬

‫‪page 20–31‬‬

‫‪page 46–49‬‬

‫امود‬

‫أو ‪،‬بعصلا نم هنأ نم مغرلا ىلع‬

‫‪page 32–43‬‬

‫‪s‬‬ ‫‪a‬‬ ‫‪n c‬‬ ‫‪tu‬‬ ‫‪a r y‬‬

tents 06

Introduction United Nations Refugee Agency

A Refugee Nation What Makes a Nation?

Homeland in Oakland Journey Out of a Syrian Warzone

1951 Coffee Company Opened With an Objective

What Did You Take With You? A Tearful Laugh

â&#x20AC;&#x153;A refugee is someone forced to flee his or h of persecution, war, o refugee has a well-fou persecution for reaso nationality, political o membership in a part Most likely, they cann are afraid to do so. W and religious violence of refugees fleeing th 4

e who has been her country because or violence. A unded fear of ons of race, religion, opinion or ticular social group. not return home or War and ethnic, tribal e are leading causes heir countries.â&#x20AC;? United Nations Refugee Agency

a refug nation By, The Refugee Nation, images courtesy of The Refugee Nation. originally appearing on www.medium.com

ee The Refugee Olympic Teamâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s Flag.

what makes a Yolande Mabika, a member of the Refugee Olympic Team, with the flag.

nation? 8

This is the crux of our project. When we first started pondering the situation of the athletes called to partake in the Rio Olympics as “Refugees” without representation, we found the paradox of being stateless in the world’s biggest display of statehood uniquely equivocal and somewhat outrageous. 9

Popole Misenga, judoka from the Refugee Team. image courtesy of The Refugee Nation

For the first time ever, a refugee team was supposed to compete at the Olympic Games, representing 65 million displaced people worldwide, and for the first time ever, 10 athletes would be there with no national team to belong to, no flag to march behind, and no anthem to be played for them. In this context, we — a collective of creatives — in partnership with a group of refugees, decided to do something about that. Together, we came up with the concept of the Refugee Nation: a nation reimagined to challenge geography and the notion of territories. Our nation is a borderless ideal, immersed in the core values of human rights and, above all, open to taking in those in need anywhere in the world. 11

the This symbolic nation was meant to pay a tribute to the refugee athletes in the Olympics, and, by extension, all the refugees in the world. Together, we created a flag and an anthem all refugees could call their own. To design the flag of this new nation we teamed up with an artist, but not just any artist. We partnered up with Yara Said, a Syrian refugee who had to leave her own country to find asylum in Amsterdam after graduating from the Faculty of Fine Arts at the University of Damascus. The flag of a nation without borders had to reflect the conflict between the dream of crossing over and the obligation of staying within the lines. Said was very familiar with the struggle and the complex circumstances brought up by forced displacement, so she created a meaningful, powerful flag.

flag

The idea was inspired by the only passport so many refugees have used throughout their journey: life vests. The flag is a vivid orange with a single black stripe, reminiscent of movement, pain, fear, and hope. Said stated,

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Black and orange is a symbol of solidarity with all these brave souls that had to wear life vests to cross the sea to look for safety in a new country. Since I had to wear one I have a personal engagement with these life vests, and these two colors.â&#x20AC;?

image courtesy of the refugee nation

To write the anthem, we invited a very special composer: Moutaz Arian, a Syrian refugee currently living in Istanbul. He was a music scholar in his fourth year at the University of Damascus when he had to flee his own country as the situation in Syria deteriorated. Since the refugee crisis is a global issue, Arian decided to create an anthem without words to resonate beyond borders. His intention was to let music, as the most commonly understood language, speak for itself: “I want to make music not just for Kurds and Arabs. I want to make music for the whole world.”

“Music is the best language to deliver my message to humanity, which is to love each other, and this language does not require a translation.” With these two national symbols in hand we presented a convincing case to the International Olympic Committee, arguing for the replacement of the Olympic flag and the Olympic anthem (which the refugee athletes had to use) with these potential symbols that were closely related to their strife.

The epic hymn’s high notes and rhythm were meant to portray the volatility of the crossing the refugees have to undertake. Arian explained,

“Music is the best language to deliver my message to humanity, which is to love each other, and this language does not require a translation.”

image courtesy of refugee nation

Unfortunately, the IOC has strict protocols that led them to say no to the project.

Kongo, a Congolese refugee living in Rio de Janeiro, shared what having a flag means to him:

But on the other hand, something amazing has happened: the world said yes.

“This flag gives a message to engage humanity. We can’t let people die just because they are in search of a safer place to live.”

The refugee athletes and their growing fandom embraced the symbols, thus recognizing everybody’s basic right at home. We delivered the flag to a few members of the team, and they felt honored by the tribute. As Popole Misenga, a judoka competing for the Refugee Team, put it, “A sister refugee from Syria has made this for all of us, refugee people. This flag is a gift. I’ll never forget.” Refugees across the world also said yes. They waved the flag to cheer for their heroes at the Olympics. Charly

Banners have been delivered to Kakuma, Kenya — the largest refugee camp in the world and home to five members of the Olympic team — which introduced it to over 180,000 displaced people. The crowd said yes. The flag has been seen throughout multiple Olympic venues. And, little by little, countries started showing support, including Olympic athletes. By the end of the games, even the IOC agreed to display the flag. END

The story of this flag which has transcended borders and traditional mapping, has been largely covered by major media channels. And what started as a nation to pay tribute to 10 athletes ended up becoming a symbol that unifies all refugees around the world, and a way to channel the voices of every supporter of the basic human right of having a place to call home. 17

homeland by Hamed Aleaziz, images courtesy of Carlos Avila Gonzalez. Originally appearing on SFGate.com Sept. 22nd 2015

oak19

journey out of

a Syrian

warzone 20

Sitting in a cramped Oakland apartment he shares with his wife and two young daughters, Mohamad Suheel Al-Nukta recalled the moment he decided to join the more than 4 million Syrians to have fled their war-ravaged homeland since 2011.

On a night in April 2012, a year after war spread across his country, Al-Nukta, his daughter and wife lay terrified on the floor of their fourth-story apartment in the Damascus suburb of Douma expecting to die. The power had already been cut. Gunfire lit up their living room and rang against the bars over the windows.

The 34-year-old Al-Nukta and his family are among a little more than 100 Syrian refugees who arrived in California between October 2014 and August seeking a safe haven and a fresh start.

“It’s indescribable,” he said, cringing as he replayed in his head the chaotic scene.

“Everything was taken away from us,” Al-Nukta said through an interpreter in his Oakland apartment, where he and his family resettled in March. “My work was gone, my house, even all our money. … Every day is just survival, one day at a time.”

“Everything

The plight of those like Al-Nukta has captivated the world as thousands of refugees seeking salvation head for Europe on treacherous trips by sea and on foot. The desperate diaspora has slowly trickled into California and the Bay Area.

But like Al-Nukta, many are finding that resettling in the United States can be challenging.

was taken away from us,â&#x20AC;?

Mohammad Rawas escaped from Syria with his wife and four children, and after some time moving around the middle east, have settled into a home in Oakland, Calif. He is seen here with his sone Mohamad, 10, in their neighborhood on Tuesday, September 15, 2015. image courtesy of Carlos Alvia Gonzales

‫امود‬ Douma, Syria image courtesy of Reuters

Al-Nukta said his Syrian hometown had been pounded by incessant gunbattles and bombings for months before he decided to uproot. It was not uncommon to see bodies on the streets in his once peaceful suburban neighborhood. On the night he decided to leave, he and his family held each other crying, convinced they would be killed. Soon afterward, he and his family left Syria, where the conflict has claimed the lives of approximately 220,000 people. The family first went to Jordan and then became one of some 1,500 Syrian refugees to be allowed into the United States. “It’s an emergency that just doesn’t seem to end,” said Larry Yungk, senior resettlement officer with the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees in Washington. The crisis led the White House to approve a plan to accept 10,000 refugees in 2016. The administration has also agreed to up the number of refugees allowed into the country over the next two years. John Kirby, a spokesman for the U.S. State Department, explained that the 10,000 number is the “floor not a ceiling” when it comes to Syrian refugees resettled in America.

“It very well likely could go higher than that,” he said in a news conference Monday. Advocates and politicians, including Democratic presidential hopefuls Hillary Rodham Clinton and Martin O’Malley, believe more can be done. The International Rescue Committee, a nonprofit humanitarian organization that helps resettle refugees, has said the United States should take 100,000 Syrian refugees in 2016. “I think it is imperative that the U.S. does much more. … It needs to show the world it is willing to offer safe harbor to some of the most vulnerable Syrian refugees,” said David Miliband, head of the organization and former British foreign secretary. Before the war, Al-Nukta said his hometown of Douma was lively — he and his family often went on picnics — and he maintained a decades-old printing business with his father. “It was beautiful,” he said. But soon the town that Nukta loved began to crumble: Government checkpoints segmented the area, and before long Douma became a battleground.

Kidnappers took children and demanded large ransoms. Rawas learned that the military was looking for a man with a similar name to his, and he feared being captured. The checkpoints were often violent, he noted — at one, he watched as rebels pulled two men out of a car and shot at them repeatedly.

I do wish for everyone to

“Even though it’s difficult,

All of that changed dramatically when the war began. Soon, militant groups — including predecessors to the Islamic State — swarmed the area, he said, making demands of how women should dress while electricity became scarce.

‫اكيرمأ ىلإ يتأي نأ دحأل‬

Similar tragic memories haunt Oakland resident Mohammad Rawas, 47, who fled from Syria to Jordan and was resettled in the Bay Area this year with his family. Before the war, Rawas ran a sewing factory in another Damascus suburb for more than a decade. He had 30 employees, his own home and land in the countryside.

It’s a dream for anybody

have that opportunity.

‫بعصلا نم هنأ نم مغرلا ىلع‬، ‫ىنمتأو‬

‫ةصرفلا هذه مهل حاتت نأ عيمجلل‬. ‫ملح اهنا‬

A month into a trip to Jordan in 2012, his parents called him from Syria to tell him not to come back — things had gotten worse.

Both Rawas and Al-Nukta spent a few years in Jordan, but the men and their families faced discrimination, low pay and numerous challenges as refugees in the tiny country already flooded with them.

As Rawas watches TV and Internet reports from his homeland in Oakland, sadness envelops him as he sees himself in the hundreds of thousands of countrymen attempting to make it to Europe. “They already feel like they are dead — the willingness to risk their lives, I can relate to that,” he said through an interpreter, referring to refugees risking their lives to get to Europe.

refugees and were later picked for resettlement in the United States, undergoing a lengthy process of interviews with U.N. and U.S. officials. Once refugees arrive here, resettlement organizations working with the State Department, such as the International Rescue Committee and Catholic Charities, help them get settled in their communities. The organizations, in conjunction with the State Department, city and state officials, try to place refugees in communities that have affordable housing, public transit, schools, jobs and connections such as mosques or halal food stores, said Lucy Carrigan, a spokeswoman for the International Rescue Committee. Family or friends in a community are also a consideration. Al-Nukta has a friend in the the Bay Area, while the Rawases have no prior connection to the area.

The families registered with the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees as

image courtesy of Carlos Avila Gonzales

Both families have young children — Al-Nukta’s age 6 and 7 and Rawas’ ages 10, 13 and 17 — enrolled in Oakland public schools. Challenges, however, remain for both families — Al-Nukta is actively searching for a job while taking English language classes. The family of four has a one-bedroom apartment and relies on government financial assistance, including food stamps. They’ve also gotten the support of Syrian and Muslim Americans in the community. Al-Nukta hopes improving his English will help him land a good position. Rawas works in clothing alterations in Berkeley six days a week, and the family is receiving food stamps. A layoff earlier in the summer forced the Rawas family to rely briefly on donations from a local mosque to make rent. “Even though it’s difficult, I do wish for everyone to have that opportunity. It’s a dream for anybody to come to America,” Al-Nukta said.

‘It’s incredibly difficult’ Being a refugee resettled in a new country can indeed be arduous, experts say. “It’s incredibly difficult,” said Beth Van Schaak, a visiting professor at Stanford Law School who once investigated war crimes in Syria for the U.S. State Department. “If you can imagine getting picked up, dropped into a foreign culture where you don’t speak the language. … Everything is new to you and it’s incredibly overwhelming.” Rawas, reflecting on his odyssey from his bombed-out homeland to the Bay Area, enjoys the little things now like getting a day off, usually Sundays, to buy meat and barbecue for his family. The big things matter too. “We’ve been here six months,” he said, “and I’ve never had any police officer or security guard ask for my ID. That’s a relief.” END

1 9

C O F

C O M P 30

5 1

F E E by Justin Phillips, images courtesy of Michael Macor. originally appearing in the San Francisco Chronicle, Feb 6 2017

P A N Y 31

1951 Coffee Company opened with an objective:

Assist refugees resettling in the Bay Area. Then it found a calling. The nonprofit Berkeley cafe trains and hires a staff of refugees, asylum seekers and special immigration visa holders. The shop, which opened in late January, is also designed as an education space, teaching the uninitiated about the complicated process of refugee resettlement.

Then, less than a week after the first cold brew slid across 1951’s counters, President Trump approved an executive order temporarily barring refugees and immigrants from entering the country. The sweeping legislation, currently destined for the U.S. Court of Appeals, dramatically modified U.S. immigration policy and focused on seven Muslim-majority countries. 1951 Coffee Company is named for the year when the United Nations defined guidelines protecting refugees, and it employs baristas from Nepal, Uganda, Syria, Eritrea, Afghanistan, Iran and Bhutan. Trump’s executive order hit home for the coffee shop and its 10 employees, four of whom have families in the isolated countries. “There was no way we could have planned the timing of our opening like this,” said Rachel Taber, who owns the cafe with co-founder Doug Hewitt. The pair came up with the concept about two years ago while working at the International Rescue Committee, an Oakland nonprofit.

previous image courtesy of 1951cofee.com

â&#x20AC;&#x153;Some of the people that moved from those countries that are having ref-

Tedros, a refugee from Eritrea, passes a beverage to a customer. image courtesy of Michael Macor

ugee problems, they’ve cried. They feel bad,” The hourly wage for the cafe’s employees is around $13 per hour — slightly more than the $12.53 Berkeley minimum wage — plus benefits and tips. But at the core of the shop’s functionality is a two-week barista training program. As of January, the program had 26 graduates and all were able to work at the Berkeley cafe. Taber and Hewitt said they hope to re-create the 1951 model across the country in other cities with robust coffee cultures. Over the past week, 1951’s employees have tried to make sense of the order during their free time — lunch breaks, lulls in the morning rush. “There are a lot of unknowns, and the unknowns can cause stress,” Taber said.

Babori, 27, started this job only a few weeks after fleeing Afghanistan for safety reasons. She has an MBA and speaks French, Persian and improving English. She’s a practicing Muslim, in the U.S. under a special immigration visa for her work with the United Nations in Kabul. According to the California Department of Social Services, 187 refugees resettled in Alameda County from October 2015 to September 2016. In that same window, about 342 special immigration visa holders arrived in Alameda County, who, like Babori, assisted or were employed by the U.S. government in Afghanistan or Iraq.

“Some of the people that moved from those countries that are having refugee problems, they’ve cried. They feel bad,” said newly trained barista Nazira Babori.

Babori said the unpredictability in American politics right now is worrisome, and the travel ban’s religious undertones are especially disconcerting. “We faced bad problems before — that’s why we left the country, because of religion and politics issues. Here, this is affecting our lives and our minds again,” she said. Hewitt said that for most of the employees, the executive order and its fallout were their first brushes not only with American politics but also with the country’s new administration. “They’re looking at us to tell them what’s going on, and to be honest, we’re not sure,” Hewitt said. “How far will this go? Is this only temporary? They have lots of questions.” Taber and Hewitt’s mission is to help Babori and her co-workers adjust to an unsettling political and cultural landscape. With so much social turmoil, the job has become a welcome distraction for the employees, Hewitt said. On a recent Friday morning, the cafe was busy, with a steady stream of customers angling for seats at the tables and couches. Among the customers was Oakland’s Kimberley Hutter, 25, who ordered a chai latte, made by Babori.

“We ly b for bu fam sai sup oth we

e’ve only realbeen together r a few weeks, ut it feels like a mily,” Babori id. “We can pport each her here when e need it most.”

Hutter knew about the cafe because she works with organizations centered on refugee and immigration issues. She pointed out that even though the cafe is well-positioned to promote discussion and awareness, the product is also worth a visit, especially since the drinks are produced by people who are still adjusting to life in a new country. “You don’t have to only care about the issues to come,” Hutter said. “You have to care about the coffee first, and a lot of people do, so you just come and have good coffee — and you can also learn something.” After pausing for a second, she added: “And this chai latte is amazing.” Taber and Hewitt planned for 1951 to be, in part, a place where the public could learn about refugee resettlement. The travel ban and its subsequent fallout gave the shop a larger purpose: to serve as a safe space for its employees. “We’ve only really been together for a few weeks, but it feels like a family,” Babori said. “We can support each other here when we need it most.” END

Nazira Babori, a refugee from Afghanistan, prepares a coffee beverage. image courtesy of Michael Macor

what did

tear-

ful

you take with you? laugh

words and images courtesy of Hani al Moulia. originally appearing on medium.com

It was simultaneously funny and sad when I asked my mom, “Why did you bring the house keys with you?” And without an answer everyone began to laugh. These keys are useless as they are the keys to a house that is almost completely destroyed. My mom’s laugh quickly turned into tears that paved their path onto her cheeks and silenced the sound of that brilliant laugh. I also cried after that scene. — Hani al Moulia 44

image courtesy of Hani al Moulia

Words By The Refugee Nation, Hamed Aleaziz, Justin Phillips, and Hani Al Moulia.

Images By The Refugee Nation, Carlos Alvia Gonzales, Reuters, Michael Macor and Hani Al Moulia.

Print and Paper Sanctuary is printed on Strathmore 30% recycled post consumer fiber 74g/mÂ˛.

Typefaces Sanctuary uses Teimpos and National from the Klim Type Foundry, and AperĂ§u from the Colophon Type Foundry. klim.co.nz colophon-foundry.org

ÂŠ Chris Decker Design 2017 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photography, recording or any information and storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission from the publisher. Unless otherwise expressly noted, Sanctuary disclaims any copyright interest in any of the images included in this publication and uses thereof herein are solely as is necessary for academic and/or social or political commentary.

spring 2017