The beginnings
The novitiate is the cradle of Jesuit formation, where life as a Jesuit begins. Mine started in the Jesuit novitiate in the historic town of Benin City, Nigeria. We call it – the womb for she was like a mother birthing Jesuits who spend two long years within her enclosure. It was at the novitiate that I learnt about the Jesuit Refugee Service (JRS).
The life of Father Arrupe deeply struck me in the novitiate, he made a deep impression on me as a novice. I remember reading a book on his mission in Japan as the novice master of the Japanese Province. It happened that while he instructed his novices on the Jesuit way of life, all hell was let loose. Nagasaki and Hiroshima were nuked bombed, the first nuclear bombs to fall in human history. Arrupe quickly turned the novitiate into a makeshift clinic where he, and the novices, cared for the injured. His medical background was instrumental at the time. Arrupe as a leader was charismatic and bold.
During his time as the superior general, the Society of Jesus articulated her mission as a faith that does justice. This new perspective led to the growth of the Society’s engagement in social apostolates around the world. Faith is no longer the belief in the future reign of God’s kingdom but a deep engagement with the present reality and how our practice of faith leads to a just world. This trend of articulating faith in the context of social justice led Father Arrupe to ask Jesuits to accompany refugees due to the Vietnamese war. For Father Arrupe, “St Ignatius called us to go anywhere we are most needed for the greater service of God. The spiritual as well as material needs of nearly 16 million refugees throughout the world today could scarcely be greater”. (Pedro Arrupe, 14 November 1980).
It was Arrupe who enkindled my zeal for social justice and engagement. I wanted to see the JRS closely; to experience her mission of serving and accompanying refugees. I desired to live out a faith that does justice in our world. Almost a decade after my novitiate experience, I had the opportunity to work with JRS in the UK. It felt like the stars had aligned to make my dreams come true.
The Limbo experience
My first glimpse of the harrows of refugees was my conversation with Amy-Leigh. I had just begun volunteering with JRS UK and was assigned to the accommodation team. As coordinator of the accommodation team, it was her role to get me up to speed. I was impressed by her long experience in social work especially her experience in Kenya where she had to insert herself in a different cultural and social context. Such an experience gives you a first-hand positionality to gain some understanding of being a refugee. Her experience was relatable because, in the course of my Jesuit formation, I have had to insert myself in different cultural contexts. However, such an experience (as a social worker or Jesuit) comes with some cushioning; a carefully planned transition into the new environment. In my case, I have always had a Jesuit community as a space to make sense of my new environment. This is not the case for refugees.
Our first meeting stretched for about two hours. I was trying to get a sense of the context of refugees in the UK. The Jesuit mission is one of caring for those on the margins of society, it is therefore crucial to understand the context of margins. To seek understanding is to ask questions: why do people leave the comfort of their homes for faraway places where there is no space to cushion their transition? What does it mean to be a refugee? What is the process of getting refugee status? How long can the process take? What happens between the start and end of the process? I had loads of questions. Looking back, I am grateful for Amy-Leigh’s patience with my nagging curiosity.
I was deeply shocked by the limbo experience. Nothing in the newspapers prepared me for it. In fact, my arrival in the UK coincided with the parliamentary debate on the Rwandan Act. The issue was at the Supreme Court and public rhetoric on its conformity with international laws was spreading like wildfire. As a child, I had heard the word “limbo” in my catechism classes. The catechism explained that it was the place for souls who neither made it to heaven nor hell. It was this in-between state of restlessness and waiting. However, Dante’s classic, the Inferno, which painted an elaborate picture of limbo, helped me understand what the catechist was trying to say.
My conversation with Amy-Leigh brought the limbo experience home. It was not an experience in the afterlife, as in the catechist and Dante context. It was an existential experience of people here and now. I learnt about asylum seekers whose process of seeking asylum could take as long as 20 years to be granted. When I asked what becomes of them while waiting, while in limbo, she said “They are not recognised by the state and have no rights”. It took a while to let that sink in. As I walked home, I was lost in my imagination. I wondered what it meant to ‘live’ (if one can really call that living) without rights. What is the meaning of life in such a state? What prospects and hope does the future hold? And more importantly, what conditions make a man/woman prefer such statelessness to a place where he/she calls home?
It hit me hard that the life on the margins is existence on the precipice; on a knife-edge where the probability of tipping over is closer to one.
Amani House – The process
The first project I worked on was the Amani house project. Amani house was destined to become JRS UK accommodation for male refugee friends. The building was donated by the Society of Jesus to JRS UK. The accommodation team -three of us- was tasked with getting the house in shape, to transform the building into a comfortable space, a home. It was a tremendous amount of work which took four months. The worklist ranged from removing worn carpets and installing new ones, clearing the overgrown gardens, improving the accessibility of the building, to ensuring that the fittings and furniture in the house were all in good shape. I was volunteering on Mondays and Fridays every week. And every other week, there was a new job list waiting to be done.
The experience of the first four months was more with things. It was more about moving one piece of furniture from one room to the other; fixing a broken wardrobe; installing a wall mirror; or simply vacuum-cleaning the rooms and sorting utensils in the kitchen. It was all the nitty gritty that goes into making a house a home. We put up paintings and positioned house plants in the house. The sight of a living plant/flower inside the house is quite symbolic; it gives vitality to the space.
In religious circles, there is a saying that “some give to the mission by going, and others go to the mission by giving”. The story of Amani house would be incomplete without the mention of the generosity of donors. We were flooded with household items to furnish the house. The generosity of donors catered also for some of the repairs of the house. It was a consoling experience to find myself making a bed with duvets and bedsheets given generously by donors – it was the fulfilment of God’s desire that a stranger (refugee) finds welcome and warmth for the night.
We were elated with the arrival of our first refugee friends. Months of hard work coupled with the immense generosity of our donors had paid off. Amani House was now home to someone. The most heartfelt moment for me during the welcome tour of the house with our refugee friends was when we stopped by the house plants. Our new refugee friends now embodied the vitality of Amani house, and it was their duty to ensure that the plants got moisture and retain their vitality. It was like the passing on of an Olympic torch; a fire that enkindles other fire; a vitality that enkindles further vitality.
I marvel also at the community life at Amani house. Every other week, we spend the evening together with our refugee friends. We share meals and tell stories. It is quite interesting how much education goes on during meal time. The community evening at Amani reminds me of my Jesuit community – characterised by multiple cultural traditions, debates and laughter. It is indeed a heartfelt experience to share those beautiful moments with our refugee friends at Amani house, and to imagine that these friends of ours would otherwise be out in the cold alleys and streets. All this wells up in me great gratitude to God for JRS UK, her donors, volunteers and staff.
To read more about the Amani House opening and hear from the refugee residence:
The JRS UK Accommodation team also run a refugee hosting scheme. To find out more, visit:
