Syrian Refugee Crisis: A Grandma's Struggle

We live in a world governed by facts and figures, but we seldom relate to the numbers we see.  Graphs and pie charts are more for our amusement than actual realizations of what the statistics represent. Even as the conflict in Syria unfolded over the last few years and gut-wrenching data was collected and shared by the United Nations and Amnesty International, I had been disconnected from reality.

There were times when I engaged in humanitarian and awareness campaigns at my university with friends who were of Syrian decent. I would even accompany my father (a psychiatrist) as he did house calls to local refuges families in the Tampa Bay community to counsel them or help them manage their mental illness. Sure, there were moments when I cried out of sorrow or frustration at my helplessness to alleviate the suffering, especially after hearing horrific stories of their hardships or watching documentaries recapping the struggle on the ground, but they would soon just turn into subdued recollections in my mind.  

It was not until I spent time with one of my closest friends and listened to her talk about her loved ones struggling to survive in China, Turkey, and Brazil after leaving behind their lives in Syria, that I no longer saw statistics as numbers but rather as individual stories left untold. Even as I write this reflection many days after conversing with her, my heart continues to ache and adamant teardrops refuse to cease. Even as I grow older and experience the hardships and challenges of life, I still struggle to grasp how circumstances outside our control can have such devastating and lasting effects.

More than half of her family is displaced, with many seeking sanctuary in continents thousands of miles away from home. Her 66-year-old grandmother now lives in Brazil, and the image of her struggling to speak broken Portuguese with a local vegetable vendor saddens my heart. My friend tells me how just a few years ago this woman stood tall as the pillar of her family- her presence, warm smile, and endearing embrace welcoming her grandchildren from America. She was home- but now she struggles to complete mundane tasks in a language she never knew existed, in a country she could still not point out on a map.

She tells me that her grandmother has disdain for self-pity. Obstacles, challenges, and hardships are a part of life she always says to her grandchildren. It is these moments that make you more patient, persevering, and determined. More than that, these challenges make you appreciate the things in your life that truly matter such as your loved ones. You feel blessed for every day and every opportunity and you appreciate even the smallest things in your life.

My friend recalls that as she and her family bundled together closely in a small house in the outskirts of Sao Paulo, her grandmother reminded them how fortunate they were to be with family. Perhaps one day I will also be fortunate enough to gather my grandchildren around me and tell them stories of the world I grew up in, but I hope they will be unable to relate because the world they grew up in is kinder, more accepting and more loving.