The first in a series of...

...recollections.

#1

Brief reflection on my experience at the Refugee Studies Centre’s summer school. First of all, I have undergone a profound shift in how I understand the movement of people. I have long been someone who stresses the plight of economic migrants and I often emphasize my (increasingly distant) connection to them as I am personally a product of border crossings and the integrative processes that come with them. The plight of refugees, however, and I mean “real bona fide” refugees, was totally foreign to me. My time in Guatemala, which was a war-torn place for many years, was far removed from their time of conflict. The family I stayed with even more removed, with reliable walls and gates meant to keep out turmoil.

At Oxford, I was faced with the descriptions of realities that conflict brings on people who are unfortunate enough to fall within a given proximity (I suppose real confrontation with realities may have to wait). I learned about their coping strategies, and what is possible/impossible to deliver as an outside agent. I learned more from my peers than the tutoring sessions. I was most struck by the amount of community cohesion possible given a shared commitment to a particular problem and the right degree of professional tact in the process.
I also learned that with enough booze and the right music (Michael Jackson, apparently), 30 odd people from 4 continents will dance together.

I learned that colonialism extends itself into even the most progressive areas of study. Areas of study intended to break down the residual structures, which cause our most distressing problems. When groups of representatives were chosen to present, they were overwhelmingly European or from the United States. Those who chose to spoke up in debates represented the same camp. All of our tutors were white. Of the 25-odd lecturers at the course, 2 were from the “global south”. No time was set aside to discuss this. At the bar immediately following our last day, my friend Jane told me it was not a very good idea to bring it to the table for discussion, without giving me a good reason. I agreed, for reasons that are not totally clear to me.

In our last small group session, 7 of the 10 people in the group cried. My friend Ekraam cried because she had lost a close friend that morning to violence in Iraq. Leila cried for Ekraam, and because she wanted to give voice to the fact that she cannot return to her home in Palestine. I cried for the pain of seeing my friends (who I had known for 3 weeks) cry. I do not know why the rest of the group cried, but I imagine it was for similar reasons. This, again, was in my opinion a product a shared purpose and shared space.

Toward the end of the program, I was told about jobs in Iraq, Sri Lanka, and Panama. I was also told who to contact to get them. I don’t know that I will pursue these opportunities, but the prospect looks increasingly more attractive. I have loved my time with the people I met and have described. My life is different now.

Full of hope and new things,

-k

quick....

...update?

I figured I should write something, but everything's a bit too crazy for substantive news.

So, 2 things.

A#1: I went to watch the newest harry potter movie with a Jesuit Priest. The movie was full of pre-teens with thick British accents screaming "LESBIAAAAAANS" during the kissy portions.

B#2: I was in a bathroom stall at Wadham College, one of the most well-regarded dormitories at one of the most prestigious Universities in the world. This was written on the wall:

"Call (some phone # in the UK)

Tell them you have some news.

Pete was buggered by a cocker spaniel"

Take comfort in the small things,

-kever spaniel

P.S. I am studying Tamil refugees in the UK. Turns out M.I.A. is among their most well-known advocates, as her family arrived here for that very reason. Crazy.

blighty....

...it grows on me.

I was going to explain that a bit more, but I kind of like the ambiguity (fungal).

Anyway. I, for a long while, have held a general distaste for Europeans as I always imagined them to be pretentious, rude, and enemies of freedom. Upon arrival, I was sure that this was the case. I was cranky, very tired, eventually sick, and nervous about the RSC's summer course.

I hate crowds. Getting to the center square made me sure that Oxford was as much tourist-trap as place of higher learning, with hoards of American undergrads manifesting most of what I hate about America in the streets. British breakfast was gross. I thought, this will be the Sadness of Guatemala Part II: This Time, Everything's Way More Expensive.

However.

Today changed everything. I woke up with a hangover, last night, I went out to a pub with a UN High Council on Refugees worker from the Philippines, a philosophy doctoral student from Denmark, and a UNHCR worker in Argentina. There was dancing...and I think Chumbawumba.

It was my day off, so I set out at 1 pm to take some pictures. I walked through the tourist madness (stopping to buy plums and kiwis, which were exceptionally cheap, +1 redemption points). Then I kept walking. I found a little neighborhood, with cheap food (+1), friendly people (+2), and delicious espresso(+2). Then I had street falafel (+1) and Rubicon mango soda (omg).

Then I found a graveyard (+5). I don't know why, but I love taking pictures and sitting in graveyards. Not in a spooky goth-y sort of way. In that way that there aren't usually very many people there, they usually have an eerie feeling of history, and death is among the most universal human experiences there is. It also sat in the midst of trees that looked like they shoulda been in the Lord of the Rings, which is a popular reference to make here.

I left the graveyard, and wandered some more. Found a train station (+4) took some more pictures, saw some ducks. Hell yeah, ducks (+1). Heard some three year olds speaking in THICK British accents (+3).

Here's where shit gets good. I approached a park, seemingly a park like any other. I walked in, bought an ice cream from a street vendor (+2), and entered. A man was flying a kite (+6). The park was a little strange, such that it was just a huge meadow. There was a little beaten path, but not much else. I stepped over a sleeping dude, who happened to clutching a bottle of vodka. And then it happened. I saw about 30 ponies, no fences, no barriers. Just me, and a big ass crowd of ponies. NO SRSLY PONIES!!!!! (+ 1 billion rainbows)

This place definitely has redeeming qualities, though novelty feels to me like perhaps the safest way to love something.

A billion rainbows,

-kevford

bombay bad-boy cup o' noodles tastes like....

...misbehaving indian children.

gross.

I have been here for 5 days. I dare say that it has been a more successful venture thus far than my trip to Guatemala. I suspect that it is because here, I am occupied. Occupied people tend to be happy people. This is why retirees take up golf. When I retire, I'ma take up life as an escort.

Being here makes me more and more anxious to give up life as a graduative estudiante. My peers are asylum officers in Australia, Junior Program Officers for the UN High Council on Refugees in Tanzania, and work in the International Office of Refugees in Sri Lanka. Most of them are older than me. That doesn't mean that I won't end up an office/classroom slave forever if I don't do something soon. Law school could be considered another brief preparatory trip, but I can't put off fighting for/in the world too much longer.

Enough about that.

I ate steak and ale pie at a real life pub. British beer is flat and gross.

There are Cadbury vending machines all over the place. CADBURY VENDING MACHINES.

I got to shake the hand of Larry Cox, the U.S. director of Amnesty International. High School Kevin would be proud.

I drink more tea than coffee. Cause the coffee here is gross. I may carry the switch back to GA.

Took baths, because I thought that British people didn't take showers, cause I'm stupid. Eventually, I walked downt he stairs and lo! it was a shower.

Thought about all of you. Most of whom I wish I was here with because we'd make more of the UK than I'm making at the moment.

castles, castles everywhere!
-kev o' tea

i got to a place that i had never been...

...and everything was old and stuff. and i don't know why.

After the most hellacious airplane experience of my short life. I am in Oxford, UK. Staying at Wadham College. There's a sink in my room.

I got off the plane. I was half-conscious. I got on a bus called "airliner". I smiled when the driver said, "jolly-good morning".

I realized we were driving on the left side of the road. At first I was scared and then I stopped being scared.

I thought to myself, "holy shit, I'm in Britain!" I listened to one song on my laptop which was dying and looked at the trees and realized that Britain looks a lot like Wisconsin and got into a cab with a driver who said a lot of things I couldn't understand and the I arrived.

So. I'm here now. I can say that I've eaten stuffed grape leaves and drank Beck's with Nigerians who work for the Red Cross and UNHCR and Swiss graduate students and a guy who was from Botswana but now he lives in Canada and I can't remember what he does.

There are eighty people here doing this thing, they are from 46 countries.

I wasn't going to post the rest of the stuff that's happened. But then I wrote it talking to Emily and I liked it. So here:

there's not much to tell
i got here
i went to "class"
i met some people, they didn't seem to want to talk to me
i had lunch with a worker guy
he was nice
i talked to the lady about my presentation topic
and i went to the reception
had a glass or red wine, and some grape leaves
talked to a few people
left
wandered
bought imperial leather, aquafresh, some gillette blue II razors, and a dr pepper
i stole a postcard for my grandma
then i took a bath.

God save the,
-kevin