I have always been an empathetic person. I have always been able to understand the feelings of those around me, to "put myself in their shoes" so to speak. But that's just it. I only know empathy towards those around me. What about those not around me? How can I put myself in their shoes, those that live a world away, those that have worn the soles of their shoes through, fleeing the fires their home countries are blazing for them, when I know nothing of their infernal world. I have always been aware of situations involving refugees, but never before had I really considered the plights of these exiles, these seekers of tolerance. Yet, through participating in this Service Learning class and working with NICE's refugees, I became familiar with these people. This familiarization has allowed my empathy to grow into something much deeper than it was before. It became an empathy that suffered with these people, that endured with these people.
I remember when this profound sense of empathy really hit me. It was during my first airport pickup. I had just met up with Abdi, and we were patiently awaiting the arrival of a group of Somalian women. The women's husbands, fathers, brothers were standing behind us, anxiously chattering in Arabic. I could feel the strain of their impatience, the anxiety burning inside them. I could only imagine how long it had been since the men had been separated from their wives, mothers, sisters. I was watching them, inspecting them, trying to understand them, when one of the men began to jump up and down, pointing down the hall. I turned my head to see a group of women strolling down the isle, led by one cloaked in an elaborate hijab the color of royalty. As she drew closer to the men frozen in anticipation, her legs began to give out. Each step became harder and harder for her to take as she was overcome with relief. One of the men rushed forward to keep her from falling, and then they embraced, holding each other tighter than they ever had before. As she broke away, she turned to face me. Her eyes burned with the suffering she had faced, and her cheeks caught the ash that drifted from those fires. She held my gaze for what seemed like minutes. She consumed me, drew me into her, and for a moment, I was standing there by her side, watching as the life she had known burned away. All I could do was muster up a petty smile.
But for her, this was enough. She straightened her shoulders, looked me even more dead in the eye than she had been, and nodded. It was a slight nod, but through it, she said more than she ever could have with words. It was a simple “Thank you for sharing my pain with me.”
I left the airport that night thinking “Always.”