Red Eyes on Refugees and the Silent “K”

A very quick post. Thanks for the emails and texts, inquiring about the refugees. 

* * *

The Governor-elect’s voice on the radio near put me off my breakfast.

“I recommend we close the door to Syrians….”

I understand the need to appear to be taking a strong stand. I wouldn’t want his job. It’s the ring of hate speech, though, that I can’t shake. I want to put my hands over the ears of everyone listening.

When I get to class and see Anisah’s eyes, cast down and circled red from much crying, I know some part of her has left, has gone somewhere. But where? To the roads and schools of her childhood, now vacant and bombed out? And who has she left behind, and where are they now?

I hear it in the news, every time there’s a bombing, a mass-shooting, etc….a Muslim leader saying how all Muslims hold their breath and pray, “Please don’t let it be a Muslim that did it.”

It is suggested to me that perhaps the students don’t know.
“Have you seen Anisah’s eyes? They know.”

I tell each one each day “I’m happy to see you,” but today I add, “I’m happy you are here.” What other antidote is there for what’s being broadcast?

We carry on, exploring the pressing mysteries of this world:

“Tee-cha! Knife is spelled with ‘k’?”
“Yes, like ‘knee.’ The ‘k’ is silent.”
“Knee is spelled with ‘k’, Tee-cha?”

There really are no words and I probably shouldn’t be posting, but I’m offloading impressions and appreciated all your questions.


About Marilyn

Reading, thinking, listening, writing and talking about faith, creativity, ESL for refugees, grief and finding the story in a story. Student of Spanish. Foe of procrastination. Cheez-it fan. People person with hermit tendencies or vice-versa. Thank you so much for reading.
This entry was posted in compassion, grief, refugees. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Red Eyes on Refugees and the Silent “K”

  1. Juliana says:

    Can you please let Anisah and he classmates know that they are loved and that they are wanted here?

    I want to say that I understand – and yet I don’t. I don’t know the horror they’ve experienced – I don’t understand how it feels to leave family behind in that horror. I don’t understand what it means to be discriminated against and be a stranger in a strange land.

    Thank you Marilyn for loving them in a very concrete way and for sharing them with us.


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