For the last few months I’ve been teaching Dutch at a refugee centre. Most of my adult pupils are from Syria and Eritrea. We meet twice a week and actually have a good time (Dutch is a difficult language so learning to pronounce it is often funny, we laugh a lot). I’ve grown fond of all my students, although I’m not allowed to have a friendly relationship with them. These are highly motivated people, they are more determined than any Dutch person I know. Sometimes one of them will share an intimate, secret story. The stories are often gruesome, worse than you might ever imagine.
At the end of every trimester all students will receive a certificate. We’ll shake hands and sometimes we’ll hug. Although private relations between refugees and volunteers are not allowed, I do care for every single one of my students. These men and women have literally gone through hell and back and when they are finally on safe territory after a long, ungodly journey… we cut them off from the only contact they’ve already been lacking the most: human affection. Although it doesn’t come close to feeling like family, they need sincere compassion and human interaction. Don’t get me wrong: I understand the rules and regulations that I’ve agreed with. Sure, I must keep a certain distance and should not get too involved. But that is easier said than done when you’re working with people.
What is wrong with having sympathy for those who have already suffered enough? Yes, it sucks when you get close to someone who’s not been given a permit and will be sent home against his will. It makes me miserable and I’ll end up feeling bitter and utterly powerless.
But I can only hope that at least they’ve felt my sincere interest and caring during the time we’ve spent together. That thought has given me some solace after another one of those devastating goodbyes.
I am still determined to keep teaching and reaching out.
It’s the least I can do.