Here is the full transcript of Chantale Zuzi’s talk titled “Dear Fellow Refugees, Here’s How I Found Resilience” at TED conference.
Listen to the audio version here:
TRANSCRIPT:
It was my 13th birthday. My mother made my favorite dish of rice and beans. In the afternoon, some neighbors celebrated in front of our house, dancing, laughing, eating. With music, filling the air in our usually quiet small village in the Congo.
A Night of Terror
Several hours later, the peaceful evening was torn apart. Torn apart by gunfire. Terrified screams filled the air. My mother and father wanted us children to seek shelter from this danger. I remember my mother shouting to us all, “Go to the tree, go to the tree,” she said. There was no time to say goodbye. Nine of us children ran to the forest and huddled together through the night under that tree. It was our place of sanctuary, our place of safety.
After hours of terror, the guns went quiet. The Sun appeared in the morning. But not our parents. They still had not returned. The long, stretching branches of our tree could not protect us from our growing worry. As we returned to our village, our fear turned to despair. My mother and father had been killed, along with dozens of innocent men, women, and children. The violence of that night ripped out our precious roots and set us adrift into the world.
We were now orphans, outsiders, refugees without a place to call home, without a place of safety. We were forced to leave our village and everything we knew. We traveled miles, crossed borders, and joined tens of thousands of other refugees in the refugee settlement in Uganda. There, our family shared the many challenges faced by displaced people around the world. We learned to live in a constant state of struggle. We ate, kept clean, protected each other, all to maintain some level of dignity and hope.
The Global Crisis
I tell my story not because it is unique. Just the opposite. I am one of many displaced people around the world. The number of forcibly displaced people has more than doubled since 2013. It has surpassed 108 million, and it’s continuing to rise. Just over half of the displaced people are women and girls, and 43.3 million are children. There is such a fragile border between the basic comfort most of us enjoy and the misery that is the daily existence for millions of refugees.
My experience has taught me anyone can become a refugee, to lose that place of safety they once had. But my experience has also taught me something else. That it is possible to break through, to break through those barriers of distrust and discrimination and uncertainty. To find a place of community, friendship, and to even find hope. Those changes can happen in small and large ways and in ways that are sometimes difficult to imagine.
Overcoming Prejudices
Let me explain. When I was born, my maternal grandmother wanted my mother to kill me. Why? Because she and many others held the common belief that my albinism was a curse. My mother refused, believing I was not a curse but a gift from God. So you see, my mother had saved my life twice. Once when I was born. And on the last day I saw her alive. People can change.
When I was 12, there was a girl in school who always avoided me until one day, the teacher assigned her to be a partner on a school project. The girl asked me, “If you touch me, will my children also look like you?” I explained to her, I’m not a curse. I’m not contagious. This is just how I was born. That exchange allowed us to break through and spike both a deeper understanding and a good friendship. Breaking through the barriers of fear and ignorance are critical to building bridges of understanding between the refugee population and the community they join.
Turning Challenges into Opportunities
Just as I learned as a young girl, this type of change requires the openness to share one’s story and a willingness to grow. Years later, my albinism worked in my favor. The United Nations High Commission for Refugees began to work on plans for my resettlement. Albinos were being prioritized because of the danger they face in their home countries. Violence, discrimination, that some nations, including mine, were unable to protect us from.
So in 2018, five years after I lost both my mother and my motherland, I left Africa to come to the United States. My initial reaction when I arrived in Worcester, Massachusetts was, “It’s so cold here.” As I saw my foster family holding up signs that said “Welcome to America, Chantale,” I felt that I had finally found a home. The cold was just the beginning of a series of adjustments to a very unfamiliar place and an entirely different culture.
Mastering English was a challenge, but it was far surpassed by the great joy of being able to attend school again. Well, I graduated high school in three years. And I’m now a junior at Wellesley College, majoring in political science. After reflecting on my own journey and my own experiences, I began to dream of creating similar learning opportunities for young girls still living in the same refugee settlements I lived in as a child.
Empowering the Future
That dream has taken shape in the creation of “Refugee Can Be,” a non-profit organization I founded with the help of dedicated partners and supporters. Our core mission is to be that tree, that place of sanctuary, that place of safety, to provide a secondary education along with livelihood and leadership training for the girls in the camp. To show them that they, too, can break through.
I have learned that a refugee can be anything she dreams she can be.