Refugees and "Ruffians": The Many Faces of Youth Work

Get ready for a plethora of blog posts. I'm catching up after a busy work week and one of the most amazing weekends of my life.

So last Monday I went to the UNHCR refugee house here in Turkey. The refugees there were supposedly under 18, all men/boys, from Afghanistan, Guinea, and Sudan. They were found on the streets of Turkey and sent here. Turkey does not recognize anyone with "refugee" status outside of the EU (funny right?) so they are illegals, without status really, living in a house in Turkey that is loosely gated. 

I went in, left my passport at the gate and proceeded to meet with the "mistress?" of the household. She told us about how the boys do not go to school, but rely on the kindness of strangers to give them classes in English, Turkish, and computers. They all try to get their paperwork done to try to go to countries that will accept them as refugees (like New Zealand and Australia)--this is a long and tough process though. 

So I go in the Computer Salon. All of the Sudanese and some Afghans are there. Its mostly separated along racial lines, except for the few "diplomats" who learned English/Turkish or the other group's language and acts as a sort of voice for each group. Some boys picked up Turkish in only one year... So bright, so intelligent... Most of the boys who come anyways have to be bright-- how else could they escape their countries and get to Turkey? 

But going back to race lines: The Sudanese seemed better dressed in athletic wear and took the computer room. The Afghans were in lounge wear and had the kitchen--they tended to be younger. The guys from Guinea were the oldest and biggest and owned the TV room. They spoke French. 

All of them had cell phones--where they got them from or who they were calling, I know not. This is something I am going back to research. Most also had facebooks and used skype. They were very computer literate and all were soccer enthusiasts--- duh. Many had casts because of serious soccer games. Ouch. 

We played some rather juvenile games with the guys, which I thought might be patronizing at first. But in the end, they were fun and brought all the races together for some fun. I liked it too. Someone asked if I felt uncomfortable being in a room with grown men (basically) who were refugees---if I felt threatened. In response: I feel more threatened on the streets of Istanbul by Turkish men than these men. I was treated with such respect. 

I was so fascinated by the dynamics of the group, the stories these boys have to tell, and how the system works. I will be returning to work with the guys some more and basically, chill out with them. Often times, Youth Work means just inspiring someone.... 

NEXT: On Thursday I ended up taking a group of young Turkish Teenagers from TOG to the Istanbul Modern Art Museum.  Now, I consider myself generally pretty good with Art History--I am in fact. Yet, there is always something refreshing about taking people who aren't "art snobs" to the art museum. There is something fresher and more honest in how they view the art. To me, going to a museum for Youth Work is an experience of somehow banging two facets of my life together: Art snobbery and frankness. 

For instance, I can judge what influences of either French, American, German or British art movements might have affected the art there. However, I know nothing of the Turkish tradition. The boys would point at pictures and ask me not about the style or period, but rather where the picture was painted. Some of them, they recognized as parts of Istanbul. Other things, like the Turkish Peasant Revolutionaries (The Kuva-i Milliye) or Grease wrestling was important. The representation and history, the Turkish identity was so important to them--which I hadn't thought of. They also touched the oil paintings, making me CRINGE, so composure was different too. 

On one painting of a nude woman, a boy took out his dictionary and said, "Contradiction." I asked why. He basically said that Turkish woman normally cover up and here she is nude! The same boy pointed out one of the artists and told me about his dislike for him as a writer apparently. 

One boy really stayed close with me and a translator, curious about sharing what he thought of some of the more modern art. He relied on my interpretations, until I told him to share his first. The way he looked at things, searching for "representation," not necessarily some other things like color harmony, style, technique, blahblahblah--you gain a new respect for the artwork and the way it speaks to each individual. Each youngster spent a lot of time with each painting, more than I had expected in some ways. Normally people just breeze through... these youngsters spent a lot of time contemplating each painting--we couldn't even get through the whole gallery on the first floor in 2 hours! 

So while my experience with youth work varies with different types of people and different places, I learned the value of listening, chilling, and the importance of just hoping you can inspire someone the way they inspire you...