Reflections from visit to refugee camps at Dadaab, Kenya
by Rabbi Marla J. Feldman
(This is the fourth in a series of posts from Rabbi Marla Feldman's recent trip to Kenya to deliver insecticide-treated bed nets purchased through the Reform Movement's Nothing But Nets campaign, which is underwritten by the U.N. Foundation.)

Traveling back from Kenya we were struck by the number of lines we had to go through at the airport. There was a security line to enter the terminal, another line to check in, another security line into the gate area and no less than two security lines to get into the gate itself. Lines, lines, lines.

So too, we saw many lines when we were at the refugee camps at Dadaab. Upon my return, I was asked whether the refugees ever became hostile or rebellious in the face of the abominable conditions in which they live. My response was that most seemed beaten down by the daily rigors of their existence... miles of walking from one line to the next in equatorial desert heat, hours upon hours of waiting for each service for which they depend for their sustenance, cultural norms that keep women and children silent and subservient, and the world's indifference to the plight of the most long-suffering refugees in Africa.

Upon arrival to the camp the refugees wait outside the gates, squatting on the sandy soil in family clusters, carrying whatever possessions they have. More than 500 per day arrive at the camps that already have tens of thousands more than they should hold. Those with family members already in the camps may have sought to join them, only to be redirected to a different camp that still has room for new-comers. They can't just 'squat' with family members because without formally registering they cannot receive the necessary paperwork for their food rations or other critical support.

Once ushered into the registration area, new arrivals stand in line for an initial intake - name, nationality, family members. Then they stand in another line for their children to receive vaccinations - without health records the assumption is that children have not been inoculated and are at risk for yellow fever, measles and a host of other killer diseases that the developed nations eradicated long ago. They also receive bed nets as they go through the initial health post, though without having received living quarters yet, the set-up demonstration seems lost on them. Next they wait in line for more formal intake and finger-printing, which is a new system in place to prevent refugees from registering more than once to get additional ration cards. Then they wait in more lines to be assigned a plot for their family and receive the basic necessities to build their stick/twig hovels.

Once situated, there are even more lines to wait in for basic necessities. Lines to fill jerry cans at the water taps, impossibly squeezing out enough water for drinking, cooking, laundry and hygiene, recently reduced from the optimal 20 liters per day, per person to only 10 or 13 liters, depending on the camp. Twice a month they stand in lines to receive their food quota from the World Food Programme. Periodically there are lines to receive "NFIs" - non-food items such as mattresses, blankets, pots, bowls and, again, bed nets. Then there are the lines at the health posts where they go for maternity care, child wellness and urgent care. Those with more serious medical needs wait in lines outside the single hospital in each camp and, if lucky, can see one of the volunteer doctors who visit periodically to provide surgical support to the camp's two resident doctors.

Lines, lines, lines. Patience born of resignation and depression, defeated by the blazing sun that saps every bit of energy, and submission resulting from 20 years of life in these forgotten camps.

I'll no longer complain about the lines at the air-conditioned, restaurant-laden, wifi hosting airport in which I write this message.

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