Access to Higher Education: Refugees’ Stories from Malaysia 9781138495128, 9781351024662

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Access to Higher Education

Until 2015, no refugees in Malaysia were able to access higher education, and they were unable to attend government schooling. Since then, six private higher education institutions have agreed to open their doors to refugees for the first time. This book contains stories from this small group of successful refugees, who have managed to receive higher education in a country that neither recognizes that they exist nor offers them even basic education. It identifies the factors that aided their success and charts the challenges that they and their communities have faced. The authors present each story, based on interviews, within the context of the individual’s background and nation of origin. These stories are framed by a discussion of the situation that refugees face in accessing education globally, explaining how these stories and the methodologies used for this study are universal. Lucy Bailey is Associate Professor of Education at the University of Nottingham Malaysia Campus. Gül İnanç is a lecturer at the School of Art, Design and Media, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore and is the founder of OUR – Opening Universities for Refugees.

Routledge Studies on Asia in the World

Routledge Studies on Asia in the World will be an authoritative source of knowledge on Asia studying a variety of cultural, economic, environmental, legal, political, religious, security and social questions, addressed from an Asian perspective. We aim to foster a deeper understanding of the domestic and regional complexities which accompany the dynamic shifts in the global economic, political and security landscape towards Asia and their repercussions for the world at large. We’re looking for scholars and practitioners – Asian and Western alike – from various social science disciplines and fields to engage in testing existing models which explain such dramatic transformation and to formulate new theories that can accommodate the specific political, cultural and developmental context of Asia’s diverse societies. We welcome both monographs and collective volumes which explore the new roles, rights and responsibilities of Asian nations in shaping today’s interconnected and globalized world in their own right. The Series is advised and edited by Matthias Vanhullebusch and Ji Weidong of Shanghai Jiao Tong University. Chinese State Owned Enterprises in West Africa Triple-embedded globalization Katy Ngan Ting Lam Water Policy and Governance in South Asia Empowering Rural Communities M. Anwar Hossen China and EU Reform and Governance Edited by Jing Men and Annika Linck Sustainable Development Goals in the Republic of Korea Edited by Tae Yong Jung Access to Higher Education Refugees’ Stories from Malaysia Lucy Bailey and Gül İnanç Find the full list of books in the series here: https://www.routledge.com/ Routledge-Studies-on-Asia-in-the-World/book-series/RSOAW

Access to Higher Education Refugees’ Stories from Malaysia

Lucy Bailey and Gül İnanç

First published 2019 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2019 Lucy Bailey and Gül İnanç The right of Lucy Bailey and Gül İnanç to be identified as authors of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A catalog record for this book has been requested ISBN: 978-1-138-49512-8 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-351-02466-2 (ebk) Typeset in Galliard by codeMantra

Lucy Bailey To Simon, Analysia, Miranne, Katiyah and Pietta Gül İnanç To Michael

Contents

Acknowledgements Preface Part 1

Introduction by Gül İnanç

ix xi

1

Introduction: Setting the scene 3 Part 2

Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey

21

1 Zaid – Rakhine State 23 2 Peter – Chin State 29 3 Maran – Kachin State 39 4 Andrew – Chin State 48 5 Nyan Hongsa – Mon State 53 6 Matthew – Chin State 60 7 Omran – Syria 67 8 Bethany – Pakistan 73 9 Amaal – Somalia 79 10 Nurain – Sri Lanka 87 11 Jamilah – Somalia 95 12 Omar – Iraq 105 13 Dalir – Iran 113

viii Contents Part 3

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey Appendix I Appendix II Appendix III Index

119 145 161 173 177

Acknowledgements

We would like to thank the following individuals and institutions for their inspiration and support: Neil Sparnon, Kerem Coban, Ekin Oz, Don Dippo, Wenona Giles, Johanna Reynolds, Evan Jones, Jessica Chapman, Brian ­L ariche, Chong Yin Wei, Suhnaz Yilmaz, Taner Seben, Gozde Zehnder, Russel Z ­ ehnder, Vibeke Sorensen, K.K. Luke, Neil Murphy and Wong Hui Wen; and Fugee School; Center for Refugee Studies, York University; Asia Pacific Refugee Rights ­Network (APRRN); Department of International Relations, Koc University; Center for Global Migration, Goteburg University; and School of Art, ­Design and Media, Nanyang Technological University, University of Nottingham ­Malaysia Campus. Our greatest thanks is to the participants in our research for their willingness to share their stories with us and the wider world.

Preface

Until 2014, it was impossible for a refugee or asylum seeker in Malaysia to pursue any kind of tertiary education. Refugees or asylum seekers have no status in Malaysian law, so they are treated as illegal immigrants and denied any access to education; only Malaysian citizens are allowed to enrol in government-funded education, while private institutions require passports and visas from their international students – something that most refugees and asylum seekers cannot provide. As a result, education for refugees is provided by churches, charities and other non-governmental organizations; it is typically erratic and ad hoc. In this situation, the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) has understandably focussed its limited resources in Malaysia on trying to work with partner organizations to provide basic education to the 37,000 children under their care. According to UNHCR figures (provided to their partners’ meeting in March 2017), only 50 per cent of primary-aged children and 19 per cent of secondary-aged children are enrolled in a learning centre. Trying to offer basic literacy and numeracy skills to these refugees and asylum seekers seems like an enormous struggle in itself. Although basic education is of foremost concern, refugees and asylum seekers arrive in Malaysia for disparate reasons and at a range of ages. Among the many young adults seeking refuge in the country each year, some are partway through degrees in their country of origin or have already completed secondary education; others struggle against the odds to complete their secondary education in Malaysia. It is clear that if these young people could be given access to tertiary education, they would have a better chance of being able to support themselves and their families – and to contribute positively to the country in which they have arrived. In recognition of this, from 2013 onwards the Education Unit of the UNHCR started to approach private universities and colleges in Malaysia to see if there was any way for refugees to continue their education within their walls. I had been involved in issues related to refugee education since I first arrived in Malaysia in 2011. As a professional teacher trainer, I had organized a series of training workshops for volunteer teachers working in refugee learning centres, giving them a range of tools and techniques they could use to improve learning in their classrooms. From there, I had conducted research into education policy and interviewed a number of teenaged refugees attending a learning centre in

xii Preface Kuala Lumpur. I had presented at international conferences and written articles to draw attention to the issue. When the UNHCR started approaching universities, mine was one of the doors on which they knocked. People who work in universities tend to believe in the power of education. My colleagues – fellow lecturers as well as university management – were eager to help. Fees were waived, accommodation was provided and all our foundation and undergraduate courses became involved. In other tertiary institutions, the reaction was similar; fees were waived or reduced, and in some cases courses were created to serve the needs of this particular community. By 2017, 48 young people were enrolled in tertiary programmes at a range of private educational institutions across Malaysia. It felt like a success story – although with over 149,000 refugees and asylum seekers in Malaysia, this was success only for a few. For an educationalist like myself, this limited success raised as many questions as it answered. Who were the students who were winning this one-in-a-­t housand opportunity? How did they manage to remain in education, unlike the overwhelming majorities of their peers? What did it feel like to be plucked from a crowded inner-city apartment shared by multiple families of refugees and given a room on the landscaped campus of an international university? How could we do it better – help more students to achieve our standards for admission and improve the support to the students who were admitted? What were the lessons to be learnt – by other refugees who were equally ambitious and by educationalists here in Malaysia and across the world? It was at this point that I met Gül İnanç, an academic and a campaigner for refugee higher education based in Singapore. Gül had founded OUR – Opening Universities for Refugees – a UK-based charity that works to establish networks and Higher Education (HE) consortia. She suggested that we collaborate on the writing of a book to raise awareness of the issue, both in public and in academia. In the introduction, she offers the reader a global overview of tertiary education for refugees before homing in on Malaysia. The introduction also outlines the growth of new diploma programmes for refugees globally and emphasizes that there is an urgent need to include new stakeholders other than governments, international refugee agencies and universities. The research which forms the substantive body of this book – conducted in the academic year 2016–2017 – sprang from her suggestion. We attempted to contact all of the 42 refugees and asylum seekers then currently in tertiary education via their institutions to invite them to participate in this project. At the same time, we approached our contacts in secondary-age learning centres and refugee campaigners for information about any of their leavers who had enrolled in, or were currently applying to, higher education. The stories are from all of those who agreed to participate. The names given are pseudonyms, and in some cases details in the stories have been slightly altered or rendered vague (exact courses they are pursuing, towns of origin, dates of key events) in order to protect their identities; many of these young people fled their homes after receiving death threats targeting themselves or their families. We have checked that all of the participants are happy with the pseudonym they

Preface  xiii have been given – for example, that they are culturally appropriate – and some even asked for a specific name associated with a particular meaning. All of the participants have read through their final stories in order to double-check their accuracy and anything that might inadvertently disclose their identity. Our research focus was on understanding the barriers and facilitators to accessing, and remaining within, higher education experienced by our participants. As the numbers involved are small, a quantitative approach to analysing the factors involved would have been unable to generate statistically significant comparisons with other refugees nor would it have been able to generate reflective insights. Moreover, we were interested in the way that the barriers and facilitators (some of which are obvious, such as financial resources) were lived and negotiated. In order to explore this, we elicited narratives from our participants about their educational journeys. Recognizing that a narrative is created in a discursive context, we have avoided rewriting the accounts as if they are pure stories but have been explicit about the positioning of the researchers who elicited these accounts. We do not want to suggest that these accounts are offering a single ‘Truth’ about these refugees’ lives, but nevertheless they offer insights that will be of interest to both educational researchers and the interested lay public. In the final chapter I have used grounded theorizing to structure the content analysis of the individual chapters in order to highlight the key issues for other stakeholders who might support access to higher education – ranging from HE admissions tutors, lecturers and funding providers to refugee communities themselves. In Appendix III, we have provided suggestions for further readings for those interested in learning more about the protracted conflict situations from which these young people have fled. The plight of refugees and concerns around immigration have become political hot potatoes around the world. It is, of course, for each nation to debate and decide how they will resolve these issues within their national borders. However, we hope that this book will help decision-makers – and ordinary voters – to see refugees and asylum seekers not simply as pitiable figures to be rescued from a sinking boat or as desperate people needing only their bowls to be filled. These are, of course, important priorities, but once they have been saved from these extremities refugees are – as the participants in this project told us time and again – just ordinary young people trying to make their way in a complex world. Writing this book as my oldest daughter headed off to university and Gül’s son neared completion of his undergraduate studies, the similarities between them and our interviewees were far stronger than the differences. We hope that the stories in this book will serve as a reminder of this simple fact.

Part 1

Introduction by Gül İnanç

Introduction Setting the scene

Since everybody plans and wishes and hopes, so do we. (Arendt 1947)

We are at a crossroads. At the time of writing (January 2018) substantial changes are being proposed, considered and partially implemented in regard to third-level education for the world’s displaced population. The tone of recent high-profile policy papers suggests an urgency that has previously been lacking, even if the ideas they propound have been around for some time. For example in May 2016, in advance of the World Humanitarian Summit, the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) and Global Education Monitoring Report (GEMR) released a joint paper entitled ‘No more excuses: Provide education to all forcibly displaced people’ in which officials clearly stated that the education rights of forcibly displaced populations are being neglected on a large scale. It called for countries and their humanitarian and development partners to urgently ensure that internally displaced asylum-seeking and refugee children and youth are included in national education plans, and to collect better data to monitor their situation (UNHCR and GEMR 2016, p. 11). The title of this report alone implies two things: first, that some countries and their humanitarian and development partners have not been providing education to the displaced communities whom they host, despite being signatories to earlier agreements, and second, that they have presented inadequate excuses/­reasons for not doing so. At first glance one might infer that the message is directed primarily at those countries that do not yet have specific national laws addressing forced migration and/or that have not signed the 1951 Refugee Convention and its 1967 protocol. In such places refugees are often considered illegal and therefore denied the right of access to national education systems. Yet, even if the report suggests that these developing counties, which host the majority of the world’s refugees, have not yet done their part to share the global responsibility up to this point, and even if the facts and figures within the report to some extent corroborate this, it was never the intention of the report to put these countries under the spotlight nor to name and shame them. The inadequacy was much more general in scope. Accordingly, a couple of months later in September 2016 and

4  Introduction by Gül İnanç in advance of her speech at the Annual Conference of the European Association for International Education in Liverpool, Chief Spokesperson for the UNHCR Melissa Fleming, via University World News, called on all countries, especially in the more developed ‘west,’ to think not only in terms of funding and resettling but also in terms of issuing special student visas (O’Malley 2016). The tone of her statement was uncompromising: Sometimes it is not up to the universities but to governments to say ‘okay, if this is going to be our part in sharing responsibility for the global refugee problem, we will encourage student visas.’ To try to get a Syrian student into a US university, it takes two years to go through the screening process for resettlement to the US. Yet there are a couple of examples – Ireland, which has a number of scholarships for Syrian students and Portugal as well – where it is not just the universities but the government also offering visas as their contribution to alleviating the refugee crisis. This is not just a situation of haves and have not’s; it is short-sighted and dumb, frankly, not to put everything into investment in refugee children and youth. (O’Malley 2016) This introduction will build upon this statement. First, the introduction investigates the reasons behind these urgent new calls for action. Second, it introduces some pioneering education initiatives already underway which may very well offer a template/model for future educational and policy models. Third, this introduction offers a proposal for including new stakeholders to change the harsh fact that only 1 per cent of refugee youth currently have access to higher education. Melissa Flemings’s words and sentiment are very timely but utopian, given today’s political climate. Governments are unlikely to establish a student immigrant visa scheme beyond what they already have. It is therefore incumbent upon academics who advocate for the educational rights of displaced communities to navigate around this political block to offer alternative forms of leadership. A global crisis such as this certainly needs a global response and accordingly requires new stakeholders other than governments, non-­governmental organizations (NGOs), universities and international humanitarian agencies. Lastly, this chapter is brought to a close with a case study relating to access of refugees to higher education in Malaysia and demonstrating the national and global benefits of such an alignment. The prospect is made increasingly realistic by the rapid move towards online education and the advancement of educational technologies, harnessed to demonstrable willingness among academics to support such innovative and important education initiatives.

‘Global Movements’ in education and ‘Large Movements’ of people The year 2000 not only was the beginning of a new millennium but also marked the creation of two new ambitious global movements. At the World Education

Introduction  5 Forum in Dakar in April 2000, 164 governments committed themselves to achieving six goals to provide basic, universal, quality education under the banner ‘Education for All’ (EFA) (UNESCO 2000). In September 2000 at the UN Summit, 191 nations, and many international organizations, set eight new Millennium Development Goals, among which was the attainment of universal primary education, to be operative by 2015 (UNDP 2002–2006). With the use of inclusive terms such as ‘all’ and ‘universal’ the displaced communities of the world were brought into the fold specifically. A decade later, in November 2011, the UNHCR Refugee Education Global Review, written by Professor Sarah Dryden-Peterson, set out an enhanced agenda for change that was specifically aimed at promoting high-quality and protective education for refugees. In it, the compelling case was made that [g]iven the individual and societal benefits that accrue to secondary education, and within the framework of Education for All (EFA), UNHCR needs to support education up to the end of secondary school… Higher education plays a critical role for individual refugees and for societies in terms of leadership in protracted settings and in post-conflict reconstruction, and ­U NHCR should explore partnerships that augment these opportunities. (Dreyden-Peterson 2011, p. 4) Two months later, in January 2012, the UNHCR announced its new educational strategy for 2012–2016 with this optimistic statement: This education strategy is anchored in a renewed focus on ensuring the provision of refugee education, not as a peripheral stand-alone service but as a core component of UNHCR’s protection and durable solutions mandate. Quality education that builds relevant skills and knowledge enables refugees to live healthy, productive lives and builds skills for self-reliance. This Strategy is ambitious in its aim to promote access to quality education for refugees. While it is global in nature, the strategic objectives, expected results, and indicators of achievement have been written to apply to the ­country-level […] Between 2012–2016 UNHCR, with its partners, will increase by 100% the number of students attending tertiary education. (UNHCR 2012, p. 7) It continues, Implementation of activities will begin in January 2012, and results-­ oriented data collection on measurable indicators will be on-going. Expected results are set as targets for 2016, with progress measured more frequently on specific indicators of achievement. Baseline data will be examined to set appropriate targets on these specific indicators for 2014 and 2016. (UNHCR 2012, p. 9)

6  Introduction by Gül İnanç As such, the UNHCR, in responding to the Global Review of 2011 and in keeping with the spirit of 2000, acknowledged fully the need for an increased effort in placing refugees in tertiary-level education and introduced an implementation plan. It also drew on interim statements of intent, as outlined by Dryden-­Peterson, whereby the 2007 Executive Committee Conclusion on Children at Risk recognized the need to ‘promote access to post-primary education wherever possible and appropriate.’ In addition, the 2008 High Commissioner’s dialogue on protracted refugee situations identified the importance of access to tertiary education for refugees in long-term displacement. Furthermore, the UNHCR Education Policy Commitments, first published in 2003, state that UNHCR will ‘safeguard the right of refugees to education… which include[s]… equitable access to appropriate learning for youth and adults… Moreover, UNHCR will advocate for tertiary education and will support the effective use of resources donated for this purpose.’ (Dryden-Peterson 2010, p. 13) The seeds of this thinking can be traced back yet further to as early as 1966, when the UN International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights declared in Article 13 that ‘higher education shall be made equally accessible to all, on the basis of capacity, by every appropriate means, and in particular by the progressive introduction of free education’ (The UN International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights 1966). And yet half a century later the discussion and ideas therein remained largely in the realm of theory It was perhaps the 27th issue of the academic journal Refuge (published by the Center for Refugee Studies at Toronto’s York University in 2010) that made the single most significant contribution to the discussion on how and why these ideologies must be converted into practice urgently. In a volume entirely dedicated to the specific topic of higher education, the authors anticipated the situation that we now find ourselves in and provided ample evidence from existing conflict zones and protracted refugee settings to make the point that higher education for refugees is not a luxury (Dryden-Peterson and Giles 2010, p. 6). For example, in their article Laura Ashley Wright and Robyn Plasterer (2010, p. 18) examined why there has been a lack of investment in higher education both by donors and the UNHCR, then challenged the paradox of ‘relief versus development’ by arguing its lack of relevance in protracted refugee cases like Kenya’s Kakuma and Dadaab camps. Sarah Dryden-Peterson observed that as the nature of contemporary conflicts has changed, becoming protracted, so, too, the UNHCR and its donors have started to approach education as an issue of security and protection for children. Her point was clear: Increasingly, however, and more so in knowledge-based economies, future security is less tied to land, and UNHCR policy has begun to reflect a second possible durable solution of local integration into the country of asylum.

Introduction  7 This shift in thinking and policy includes the provision of education, which is often perceived on the development side of a relief-to-development aid continuum. (Dryden-Peterson 2010, p. 12) Dryden-Peterson developed the point compellingly, reiterating that higher education, in addition to primary and secondary education, was a crucial continuum and in keeping with the long-term ideologies behind EFA and the Millennium Development Goals: First, higher education, like primary and secondary, is an instrument of protection in refugee contexts… Second, and related, access to higher education contributes to the rebuilding of individual refugees’ lives and the realization of durable solutions… Third, higher education is a tool of reconstruction. Investment in higher education not only meets the needs of individual refugees and their individual durable solutions but also contributes to the development of the human and social capital necessary for future reconstruction and economic development in countries or regions of origin. (Dreyden-Peterson 2010, pp. 14–15) Refugee was published just a year before the Syrian Crisis, which had begun with peaceful demonstrations in May 2011 but escalated into a civil war in 2012 and in so doing created a mass migration of people unprecedented since the Second World War. This has made the recommendations even more relevant and even more urgent now than when they were written. If the recommendations and objectives of EFA and the Millennium Development Goals had been influential in establishing the importance of primary and to a certain extent secondary education in a global context, now the large movements of people brought about by the Syrian Crisis catalysed this thinking to involve third-level education too. Same thinking also precipitated the 82nd article of the New York Declaration for Refugees and Migrants, adopted by the UN General Assembly in September 2016, which stated unambiguously, We will support early childhood education for refugee children. We will also promote tertiary education, skills training and vocational education. In conflict and crisis situations, higher education serves as a powerful driver for change, shelters and protects a critical group of young men and women by maintaining their hopes for the future, fosters inclusion and non-­d iscrimination and acts as a catalyst for the recovery and rebuilding of post-conflict countries. (UN 2016, p. 15) Through the travesty of war and the threat to hope on the part of so many millions since 2011, the ideas that predated the Syrian Crisis now find themselves gaining traction and leading, in theory at least, to affirmative action.

8  Introduction by Gül İnanç

In the absence of ‘Durable Solutions’ A bus company in Nicosia, Cyprus, agreed to collaborate with the UNHCR on a visual advertising campaign to raise public awareness of refugees in 2009. The image was displayed on 35 of its buses for four months and was of Albert ­Einstein’s smiling face, accompanied by the tag line, ‘A bundle of belongings isn’t the only thing a refugee brings to his country… Einstein was a refugee.’ The idea behind this UNHCR campaign, which was implemented in other ­European countries as well, was to challenge the existing negative attitude towards refugees and to remind citizens that refugees can be an asset to a society by bringing their own skills and talents with them (http://unhcr-cyprus.­blogspot. sg/2009/03/einstein-poster-unhcr-collaboration_2788.html, 2009). In fact this was not the first time that Albert Einstein’s image and name were used in the context of refugees by the UNHCR and its partners. For example, in the late 1980s, the Government of Germany set up with the help of the Otto Benecke Stiftunge.V. (OBS) a ‘sur-place’ scholarship project to support refugee students in need. This project aided just over 100 refugees to pursue studies in tertiary education. It was managed by OBS field offices until 1991, when – due to German budgetary regulations – the Government sought a new partner to continue this unique project. While several OBS field offices closed down owing to OBS’ focus on adult education of immigrants in Germany, embassies took over for an interim phase of roughly one year. Although genuinely convinced of the merit of the project, the embassies were unable to cope with the sizeable supplementary demand upon resources. Germany, anxious to continue support for 134 students in Africa and Pakistan, sought to continue the project with a new partner. (Morland and Watson 2007, p. 15) This development led to the start of negotiations between the UNHCR (at that time UN agency was actively present in 153 countries) and the Government of Germany in 1990, which culminated in the signing of a partnership agreement in 1992. Albert Einstein Refugee Academic Initiative (DAFI, German acronyms of Deutsche Akademische Flüchtlinginitiative Albert Einstein) has been the only worldwide programme to offer scholarships for refugees to receive higher education at universities in their host countries for the last quarter of a century. The official report, which was published to celebrate DAFI’s 15th anniversary, indicated that 4,774 refugee students had been supported since 1992, the majority of the students coming from the conflict zones of Afghanistan, Somalia and Iraq (Morland and Watson 2007, p. 18). In 2015, eight years later, this figure had risen to 9,300 (www.unhcr.org/58eb96777). In many ways DAFI pioneered a new approach, one that went beyond the usual primary and secondary education focus by specifically targeting tertiary education. This focus progressed to evident success, leading to the

Introduction  9 acceptance of tertiary education in the context of refugee education as commonplace amongst staff and in the international community. (DAFI 2015) Within two decades, this new approach, introduced by DAFI, in parallel with technological developments like the emergence of online courses, meant that other educational programmes began to flourish, connecting refugees and marginalized populations to accredited academic institutions via distance/­v irtual learning. In 2014 the UNHCR Innovation and Education Unit hosted a Roundtable in Nairobi, Kenya, where the representatives of these pioneering educational programmes came together for the first time to share their experiences, initiate collaboration and facilitate networking. The roundtable participants were the Jesuit Commons Higher Education at the Margins (JC:HEM), Borderless Higher Education for Refugees (BHER), the Australian Catholic University (ACU), InZone and the African Virtual University (AVU). One of the main outcomes of the roundtable was the formation of a new network of collaboration that aimed to expand the connected learning opportunities (see Appendix 1). These five participants, who have provided accredited programmes for over 3,500 students in nine countries since 2004, came together again, in Geneva in 2015, to design the Connected Learning in Crisis Consortium. This was founded by some core members but augmented by an expanding global base, including ACU, JC:HEM, Kenyatta University, Kepler, Moi University, Southern New Hampshire University, York University, University of British Columbia, University of Geneva-InZone and UNHCR. Operative since 2016 it is currently aided by Al Fanar Media, Ford Foundation, Open Society Foundations and GIZ The Deutsche Gesellschaft für Internationale Zusammenarbeit , and additional organizations (including Kiron, INASP International Network for the Availability of Scientific Publications, Open University UK, Princeton University and UC-University of California -Davis) are in the process of joining the consortium to reach out to a broader audience (http://www.connectedlearning4refugees. org/what-we-do/). Today there are growing numbers of institutions which support refugees’ access to higher education. More and more universities in Europe offer scholarships for newly arrived refugees. Online learning platforms like Coursera, Futurelearn and Edex have started to offer their courses free for displaced communities, and universities like the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and international networks like INEE, International Network for Educations for Emergencies, are hosting platforms to bring creative solutions to the crisis. Countries like Canada, the UK, Holland, Germany, Italy, Ireland and Turkey already include special educational programmes in their national systems and offer limited government scholarships for the newly arrived and/or transiting refugees. Even a basic search of the Internet will introduce the reader to a growing number of educational interventions, platforms and projects that are established by governments, international agencies and even by individuals (http://cekipedia. com/­refugee-ed-world) to support the access of refugees to higher education.

10  Introduction by Gül İnanç However, to date, we know very little about the extent to which they achieve their goals (NORR AG 154) as the rights of forcibly displaced people to education continue to be neglected on a global scale, especially in the r­ efugee-hosting countries that have not ratified the 1951 UN Convention Relating to the status of Refugees. The urgent efforts to change this situation also face significant challenges.

Need for new stakeholders: can ranking agencies act as game changers? The responsibility weighs heavy on our shoulders. We are very much aware that national policy and multimillion-pound decisions are influenced by these rankings. We are also acutely aware of the criticisms made of the methodology. Therefore, we feel we have a duty to improve how we compile them. (Ann Mroz UNESCO 2013, p. 24) In an increasingly consumer-oriented global education marketplace one of the few things that unites all universities is the ranking system. This is a key parameter in the assessment process that started as an academic exercise to find the factors that lead to excellence in universities (Kaycheng 2017) and has since grown into something much more influential. The first ever global university ranking, Academic Ranking of World Universities (ARWU), produced by Shanghai Jiao Tong University, appeared in 2003. A year later, in 2004, Quacquarelli Symonds and the Times Higher Education World University Ranking (THE) jointly published its first global university ranking, in the THE supplement. This collaboration soon ended, and since then the two ranking agencies have been offering their own ranking systems. There are other rankings that have emerged since 2012 too: for instance, Universitas 21 Ranking of National Higher Education Systems, Ranking Web of Universities, Center for World University Ranking and University Dimensional Ranking of Higher Education Institutions. While all are significant, it is the original three that have remained the most respected and influential. These global rankings have been used by students to help them choose where to study, by staff to look at career opportunities and by research teams seeking new collaborative partners. However, in recent years world rankings have been used by institutions to benchmark themselves against global competitors and even by governments to set their national higher education agendas. Today’s college and university rankings are seen as important indicators of ‘quality’ across a range of disciplines central to a university’s reason d’etre. Typically, ranking is based on a combination of criteria ranging from funding and endowments, through teaching and research excellence, to specialization expertise. Attention is paid to admissions, student options, award numbers, number of patents, student selectivity, graduation rate, internationalization, graduate employment, industrial linkage and more (Khaki Sadigh 2016).

Introduction  11 What is being proposed by the author of this chapter is the contention that if offering education for displaced communities (under a criteria such as humanitarian or international community outreach) can find a place in this ranking and assessment rubric it will act as a stimulus for all universities to engage. This one small modification to the assessment criteria offered by these ranking agencies globally could reach all universities and have not only an immediate but also a long-term impact. It would remove the need to convince each university, one by one, to open their doors to displaced communities. To reiterate, if the ranking agencies did in fact make education for all a small but central part of their assessment criteria, it would act as an enormous stimulus for universities globally to engage in the education of displaced communities. We must also remember that engagement can come in many forms – from permitting access to online courses to opening basic university facilities during holidays and weekends or in more affluent institutions offering financial assistance for scholarly excellence and student visas for refugee youth. This is an opportune moment too as all of the ranking agencies are currently conducting research and self-reflection on the following topics in order to offer a better service, asking, 1 What are the merits and therefore potential usefulness of university rankings? 2 What are the limitations and therefore potential pitfalls in the use of university rankings? 3 What alternative instruments may complement university rankings? 4 How best can diverse stakeholders benefit from university rankings and other complementary instruments? (UNESCO 2013, p. 10) These four considerations, specifically the last one, are entirely consistent with the idea being proposed. The concept and rationale, it is clear, are already embedded in the ranking systems’ philosophies and indeed those of many of the participating universities, especially when it comes to internationalization. Many ranking agencies already take into account the number of international students and number of international faculty as well as the number of international activities. We read, for example, that The QS World University Rankings takes into account the number of international students and the degree of internationalization within each faculty. The Times Higher Education Supplement assesses the international presence among students and teaching staff. In the same way, SCImago Institutions Rankings World Report looks at the number of scientific documents published in collaboration with foreign institutions. The Global Universities Ranking also takes international activities into consideration. (Castro and Tomàs-Folch 2015, p. 2) However most universities lack this opportunity of internationalization, engaged as they are in offering education to their own citizens:

12  Introduction by Gül İnanç The 15,000+ institutions around the world today that have not, do not and will not appear on any ‘top’ list of universities because they lack international activities continue their noble pursuits of educating and nurturing learners hungry for knowledge and skills; of contributing to the development of human and social capital; and of undertaking important research for sustainable futures. (UNESCO 2013, p. 18) With the successful application of the proposal being made in this chapter (simply by opening their doors to refugees), these hitherto invisible higher education institutions, especially the local universities of the refugee-hosting countries, can be recognized by the ranking agencies. Both the dilemma and the solution could be detected in a UNESCO report dating to 2013: 95 per cent of higher education providers, especially those in less developed countries, are invisible in the ranking. To help remedy this, we plan to develop regional university rankings such as rankings of universities in Eastern Europe, South America, Africa or China. These regional rankings will not only adopt the indicators used in ARWU, but will also consider other indicators relevant to the region that may reflect universities’ global competitiveness, directly or indirectly. (UNESCO 2013, p. 37) Therefore, the question is twofold: can the inclusion of displaced communities into higher education be a new indicator for regional rankings, especially in South-East Asia? And if the answer is yes, what will the impact of this change be on the national educational policies of countries like Indonesia, Thailand and Malaysia?

Case study: Malaysia When US President Barack Obama visited the Dignity for Children Foundation in Kuala Lumpur in November 2015 and addressed the international press there, his main intention was to counter a Republican effort to block US acceptance of Syrian refugees, appealing ‘that’s the face of not only children from Myanmar, that’s the face of Syrian children and Iraqi children’ (Spetalnick 2015). During his visit, President Obama specifically avoided direct criticism of the Malaysian government and its laws regarding the legal status of refugees and their lack of access to work and educational opportunities. There was a reason for this. In the previous month (October 2015) Malaysia’s Prime Minister Najib Razak had announced his plan to the UN to take in 3,000 Syrians, and so, during President Obama’s visit, Malaysian officials were working out the details of the programme, the specifics of temporary residences, employment and opportunities to enrol their children in public schools (Mayberry 2015). Despite the lack of direct criticism, however, President Obama did call for tolerance, universal

Introduction  13 freedoms and the rights of refugees. Considering the venue where he met the press to make this statement, it was clear that education was one of the universal rights to which the US President was referring. Before introducing the current situation regarding the access of refugees to higher education in Malaysia, I will briefly summarize the country’s political and legal position towards refugees. Malaysia is one of the few remaining countries that have not acceded to the 1951 convention or its 1967 protocol. As no national-level legislative instrument exists defining the official status of refugees, Malaysia does not formally recognize a person as having refugee status. This legal lacuna leaves refugees susceptible to the Immigration Acts of 1959/63 which classify them as illegal immigrants. Malaysian law does not differentiate between refugees, asylum seekers and undocumented immigrants. In his article ‘Refugees and Refugee Policy in Malaysia,’ Amarjit Kaur examined a facet of the historical background of the Malaysian government’s refugee policy by concentrating on the economic importance of importing labour since the 1970s. In this, four major factors seemed to be at play: first, the historical legacy of Malaysia’s demographic and ethnic background; second, the geographical and economic situation in South-East Asia; third, how these two factors assisted in the development of Malaysia’s border control and immigration policy; and fourth, how current refugee policymaking takes place outside a human rights framework, despite the guidance of the UNHCR and NGOs (Kaur 2007, p. 83). Kaur argued that the ethnic backgrounds of the population of Malaya had already undergone major changes through settlement and population growth because of the imperial policies of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. By 1947, for example, the Chinese and Indian immigrant populations outnumbered Malays, and this played an essential role in the forming of a new border control regime after independence in 1963. In addition, the new government introduced internal enforcement measures to differentiate between the indigenous inhabitants and resident ‘aliens,’ particularly with regard to their economic and political rights. This policy was articulated along categorizations of ethnic identity, and thus in the 1960s, only Indonesian migrant workers (deemed to have common racial and cultural heritage) were permitted to be recruited for employment by Malayan firms. Subsequently, and in the wake of the 13 May 1969 race riots, the government adopted a developmentalist policy that subsumed an affirmative action policy and gave preference to ethnic Malays and other indigenous groups in many spheres (Kaur 2007, p. 80). During the 1980s this policy towards foreign labour (mainly from Indonesia) recruitment was legalized, though by 1989, due to public sentiment and ‘societal’ borders, the government decided to freeze all further importation of foreign labour. After the financial crisis of 1997 the government had to reconsider this decision and accordingly developed a new policy that strictly regulated the irregular movements of immigrants and reduced Malaysia’s dependence on any single racial group. Although Malaysia has become the largest labour-importing country in South-East Asia since the 1970s its approach to managing all migratory movements, including refugee flows, has been reactive rather than proactive (Kaur 2007, p. 81).

14  Introduction by Gül İnanç It was during the 1970s that the UNHCR started its operations in M ­ alaysia at the invitation of the government, assisting with the resettlement of ­V ietnamese and Filipino Muslim refugees. The UNHCR continued its operations under the 1989 Comprehensive Action Plan (CAP), an international agreement that provided for the screening of refugees for refugee status and subsequent resettlement or repatriation. Today the UNHCR has a liaison office in Kuala Lumpur, and the Malaysian government continues to formally accredit ­U NHCR representatives, even in the absence of a formal written agreement since CPA ended in 2001 (Kaur 2007 p. 84). As of March 2017 the Asia Pacific Refugee Rights Network published the following country profile of Malaysia on its website, stating, a total of 150,430 refugees and asylum seekers, were registered as ­‘Persons of Concern’ with UNHCR Malaysia. The vast majority (133,856 people or 89%) are from Myanmar (including 56,135 Rohingya), with 16,674 people originating from other countries, including Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Palestine, Pakistan, Somalia, Sri Lanka, Syria and Yemen. P ­ alestinians and Rohingya have additional protection concerns as stateless refugees. 68% (102,455) of refugees and asylum seekers are men, while 32% (48,214) are women, and 23% (34,859) are children below the age of 18… There are currently 34,859 refugee and asylum seeking children registered with UNHCR Malaysia yet due to Malaysia’s reservation to Article 28(1)(a) on free and compulsory education at primary level of the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC), the state does not take responsibility for the education of non-Malaysian children including refugees, asylum seekers and stateless children. These children are ineligible to attend government primary schools, and of the more than 11,000 refugee children of school age currently in Malaysia, less than 40% have access to formal education. (Asian Pacific Refugee Rights Network 2018) These 150,000+ registered refugees are categorized as ‘illegal migrants’ who entered Malaysia without authorization or proper documentation. This has a significant impact on their opportunities to access education. Few are eligible to attend state schools, meaning that primary and secondary education is mostly delivered through UNHCR-sponsored, or community-based, initiatives. In some instances students are encouraged to sit for accredited examinations such as those offered by the Cambridge Examinations Board. In terms of higher education, potential students from refugee backgrounds are required to meet basic entry requirements, which may include minimum scores in secondary school examinations and English Language Proficiency (usually to at least year 12), and require an applicant to be a minimum of 17 years of age.1 The key, or the legal loophole, that enables some refugees to access education in Malaysia is that they are regarded merely as ‘International Students,’ who have passports and entered the country legally. As such, and in addition to this criteria, they are also required

Introduction  15 to apply for and provide a Student Pass issued by the Malaysian Immigration Department, pass a health check and have health insurance (some institutions are willing to cover the costs of this insurance). They are not able, however, to enrol in any programmes leading to the award of a Malaysian accredited certificate. Instead such students are regarded as taking a series of short courses for credit, leading to the provision of a student transcript. Several refugee students we interviewed for this project expressed concern about this in terms of the extent to which this transcript would be accepted by other institutions and/or employers in the future, especially after resettlement. As can readily be appreciated, these criteria, combined with full-time undergraduate fees (anything between 35,000 RM and 106,000 RM per annum [$8,500–$25,770 US]), to say nothing of the years of lost earnings, creates significant hurdles when seeking access to higher education. Between 9th and 13th May 2016, representatives of the Opening Universities for Refugees (OUR) (at that time ‘Open Universities for Refugees’), a UK-­registered, Singapore-based NGO, conducted a series of interviews in Kuala Lumpur with representatives of the UNHCR in Malaysia; leaders of community-­ based schools; scholars; students; and senior managers at the University of ­Nottingham Malaysia Campus, the International University of Malaya – Wales and Brickfields College, all of which currently offer higher education opportunities to refugees. With the addition of HELP University, the Innovative ­I nternational College and Limkokwing University of Creative Technology, these three institutions are the signatories to a Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) with the UNHCR to provide tertiary access spaces to refugee students [It may be noted that all signatories to the UNHCR MOU are either privately funded or international institutions with significant links to institutions based in other countries]. The discussions/interviews that were conducted as an on-site assessment gravitated around three key themes: 1 The level and demand for higher education among the refugee population in Kuala Lumpur. 2 The views/ambitions/limitations of higher education providers to refugees and issues relating to admissions procedures and criteria, the delivery of courses and the provision of certification and accreditation. 3 Issues surrounding the delivery of secondary education (identification, preparation and support of students), including the current level of infrastructure available to support refugee education, in terms of access to information technology the Internet and appropriate and effective study space. These discussions were held in the knowledge that UNHCR representatives had indicated that previous surveys have identified almost 1,000 refugees who were and are interested in entering higher education. In discussion with providers of secondary education it was stated, perhaps unsurprisingly, that ‘everyone wants to go to university.’ And yet, in the context of a total refugee population of over

16  Introduction by Gül İnanç 150,000 this figure represents just 0.7 per cent. Moreover, those institutions that currently do offer places to refugee students report that in the academic year 2015–2016, not all available places had been filled. To better understand this dichotomy as well as the nature and level of their demand for higher education, and with the support of UNHCR and Fugee School, the OUR team conducted a survey2 of current and potential refugee students in Kuala Lumpur during May 2016 (OUR 2016). Results of the survey suggested that there are several reasons for this relatively low level of demand and uptake of the available places. Only 28 per cent of the eligible school-age refugee population is in primary or secondary education, largely because of the pressures to find paid employment, leading many secondary school students to drop out before they complete their studies. Indeed, full-time study, at either secondary or tertiary levels, is often described as ‘impossible’ – an impression supported by the current university students interviewed for this book. All had jobs, in addition to their full-time studies, and for most a typical day might involve studying from 8 am until 4 pm, then working until 2 am to earn sufficient income. Each day would also include a lengthy bus journey to and from the campus. Students capable of such multitasking are offered a range of subjects governed by the terms of the UNHCR MOU, and these include English, Business and Law, Arts and Humanities, Health and Social Science, Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics, and other skills-based courses. All the institutions to which OUR representatives spoke were keen to stress their ongoing support for this scheme and the high level of motivation among successful applicants. Several stressed the extent to which refugee students are treated equally in terms of access to facilities and academic expectations. Ensuring equality poses several challenges, however. Institutions indicate that in many cases refugee candidates struggle to meet the academic threshold for admissions. This reflects both the level of their secondary education and, as often as not, the absence of certified qualifications owing to the early and abrupt termination of their studies. One institution in particular stressed that it could not accept new students without their meeting published admission criteria and providing appropriate certificates. Another indicated that it could appreciate the circumstances that meant the applicant lacked documentary evidence of successfully completing secondary education and might therefore need/offer additional support or an alternative route to enter higher education. In the latter case, the institution’s admissions process adopts in-house assessments and interviews, and offers support to borderline applicants. Both providers of secondary and tertiary education were receptive to the idea of the creation of a ‘bridging course’ that would enable students to transition effectively from secondary to tertiary education. This would focus not only on the academic skills needed to ensure that university admission criteria were met but on issues such as time management, IT skills, academic reading and writing, referencing and so on. The ‘bridging course’ was then planned to specifically address criteria such as levels of attainment, modes of delivery (online, classroom based, distance learning, etc),

Introduction  17 fee levels, teacher support and supervision, and accreditation and credit rating ­ (either within the context of Malaysia or internationally). In addition, the possibility and potential for online learning opportunities became increasingly apparent in most discussions, not only in delivering bridging course, as set out earlier, but also in engaging with university-level foundation and diploma courses. None of the current signatories to the UNHCR MOU were offering online courses at that time, however, and none has the capacity to develop and deliver them in the near future either. The OUR team was also able to meet several representatives of c­ ommunitybased schools that serve the secondary-aged refugee population in Kuala ­Lumpur, namely Dignity for Children, Fugee School, Rohingya Community School-­ Malaysia Relief Agency, Ruth Education Center and Ideas Academy.3 The team was able to tour the facilities and observe the delivery of lessons in buildings that were well maintained with heat, lighting and access to the Internet. In two cases there were operational libraries, and children had access to appropriate study spaces and learning materials. In subsequent discussion with those involved concerning the content of secondary education offered, several key issues emerged relating to the curriculum Several schools, for example, follow the Malaysian curriculum that had been in effect before 2012, when the language of instruction ­ nglish to Bahasa Melayu, and for mathematics and science was changed from E they use photocopies of textbooks provided by the ­U NHCR. Others are using US and Canadian curricula as these are the most likely places to which students will be resettled. Still others prepare students between the ages of 14 and 16 for the Cambridge International Certificate of General Education (IGCSE). Next came the widespread acknowledgement that demand for education is continually rising as the good reputation of the community- and the UNHCR-supported schools spreads among the refugee community. Several indicated that they had already increased their enrolment by 50 per cent or more in the last two years, making the recruitment of appropriately qualified teachers problematic. All school leaders stressed the need to increase the number of secondary teachers as a precursor to further expansion in access to higher education. Discussions with the UNICEF-funded Tandemic project described this lack of qualified teachers as a ‘black hole’ into which the majority of potential secondary and, by implication, university students’ fall. Lastly, they observed that dropout rates remained high as school-aged children were required to earn income. Providers of secondary education were receptive to several suggestions, welcoming the idea that a more coordinated approach be adopted across the various UNHCR-supported and community-based schools within Kuala Lumpur to identify and target those likely to complete secondary education successfully and apply to enter higher education through either the existing UNHCR MOU arrangement or other routes that currently exist or might be developed. Providers of secondary education also acknowledged fully the need to provide support to those seeking to enter higher education both materially and pedagogically (the idea of a bridging course was welcome, for example, as was the potential to deliver it online). However, several

18  Introduction by Gül İnanç secondary education providers stressed that the majority of refugee homes made effective study difficult, and so they highlighted the necessity of providing appropriate study space, possibly in the existing secondary schools at quiet times, such as evenings and weekends. With additional support and funding, secondary education providers were willing to explore this possibility. The 3C Forum (Collaborate, Create and Change),4 which was co-organized by UNHCR and OUR, was hosted on the 5–6th of August 2016 at Brickfields Asia College, Kuala Lumpur. More than 50 participants from different professional backgrounds came together to discuss the topic of refuges’ access to higher education. The final day of the 3C Forum was devoted to the development of specific actions plans. After consideration, the participants decided to focus on the development of a specific project, a bridging course that would enable potential refugee students to transition more easily between secondary and tertiary education providers in Kuala Lumpur – specifically the Connecting and Equipping Refugees to Tertiary Education (CERTE) course (http:// certemalaysia.blogspot.sg/) – and a mechanism to access funding sources for this, and potential future projects (see Appendix 2). Now, nearly two years after the 3C Forum, more institutions are demonstrating willingness to offer higher education opportunities for refugee youth. For example Monash University in Kuala Lumpur hosted the third CERTE cohort in March 2018 and is currently working to create more scholarships for the refugees, while Taylor University offers fundraising events for refugee communities. As stated on the official website of the UNHCR, today there are 48 students (UNHCR 2001–2018) with a refugee background who have access to higher education in Malaysia. This is an unimpressive statistic in a numerical sense. It is on a much more humane level, however, the source of much hope. This book has been written to share the unique stories of 13 of these students, to personalize the sometimes overwhelming statistics on which official reports thrive, to remind the reader of the preciousness of the hope and drive that third-level education can offer and to reassure those in decision-making positions of the value of investing in the talents and determination of individuals within these displaced communities.

Notes 1 It is also possible in some instances to take in-house English proficiency tests. Several institutions also accept applicants whose previous study was at an institution in which English was the language of instruction. 2 Survey results can be viewed via: //initiativeour.org/project/project-acacia/ 3 It is essential to mention that these 5 learning centres out of 133 are exceptional institutions. The vast majority of refugees are offered no opportunity to gain any qualification, and if they are lucky enough to attend school at all, they attend poorly resourced facilities that are overcrowded and staffed by untrained volunteers. 4 The 3C Forum, action-oriented, problem-solving platform, uses open-space technology methodology and a participant-led agenda.

Introduction  19

References Arendt, H. (1994). ‘We refugees.’ In: M. Robinson ed., Altogether elsewhere writers on exile. Boston: Faber & Faber, p. 111. Asian Pacific Refugee Rights Network. (2018). Advancing the rights of refugees in the Asia Pacific Region. Designed by Jason Hill Digital. www.aprrn.org. Castro and Tomàs-Folch. (January 2015). ‘Trends of higher education rankings.’ International Journal of Learning in Higher Education, 21(3), pp. 1–12. Cekipedia. n.d. ‘Refugee education around the world.’ http://cekipedia.com/­refugeeed-world (accessed 4 July 2017). Connected Learning Consortium. (2017). www.connectedlearning4refugees.org/­whatwe-do/ (accessed 4 July 2017). DAFI Annual Report. (2015), United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, ­Geneva, December 2015. p. 7 Dryden-Peterson, S. (2011). ‘The politics of higher education for refugees in a global movement for primary education.’ Refuge, 27(2), pp. 10–18. Dryden-Peterson, S. (November 2011). Refugee education, a global review. Geneva: ­U NHCR, p. 81. Dryden-Peterson, S. and Giles, W. (2011). ‘Introduction: Higher education for refugees.’ Refuge, 27(2), pp. 3–9. Fiske, E. B. (2000). World education forum final report. In: U. Peppler Barry, ed. France: UNESCO. http://unesdoc.unesco.org/images/0012/001211/121117e.pdf (accessed 17 February 2017). Kaur, Amarjit. (2007). ‘Refugees and refugee policy in Malaysia.’ UNEAC Asia Papers 18, pp. 77–89. Kaycheng, S. (2017). ‘The seven deadly sins of world university ranking: A summary from several papers.’ Journal of Higher Education Policy and Management, 39(1), pp. 104–115. Khaki Sedigh, A. ‘Ethics: An indispensable dimension in the university rankings.’ Science and Engineering Ethics, 23(1), pp. 65–80. Mayberry, K. (2015). ‘First-class refugees: Malaysia’s two-tier system.’ Newsgrid, Feature / Human Rights. 27 December 2015. www.aljazeera.com/indepth/features/2015/12/ class-refugees-malaysia-tier-system-151221061627431.html, (accessed 17 February 2017). Morlang, C. and Watson, S. (2007). Tertiary refugee education impact and achievement: 15 years of DAFI. UN Refugee Agency. O’Malley, B. (2016). ‘UN call to ease visa restrictions for refugee students.’ University World News. 16 September 2016. Issue 428. www.universityworldnews.com (accessed 17 February 2017). Spetalnick, M. (2015). ‘Obama visits refugees in Malaysia to highlight global c­ risis.’ Reuters, World News. 21 November 2015. www.reuters.com/article/us-obamar e f u g e e s/ob a m a-v i s it s - r e f u g e e s - i n -m a l ay s i a- to -h ig h l ig ht- g l ob a l - ­c r i s i s idUSKCN0TA09Q20151121. UNDP. (2002–2006). Millennium project. Commissioned by UN Secretary General, supported by UN Development Group, www.unmillenniumproject.org/goals/ (accessed 12 January 2017). UNESCO. (2013). In: P.T.M. Marope, P.J. Wells and E. Hazelkorn, eds., Rankings and accountability in higher education: Uses and misuses. Paris: United Nations Educational,

20  Introduction by Gül İnanç Scientific and Cultural Organisation, University Rankings: Many Sides of the Debate p 18, Chapter 1 The Academic Ranking of World Universities p. 37. UNHCR. (2001–2018). ‘Education in Malaysia.’ www.unhcr.org/education-in-­malaysia. html. UNHCR. (March 2009). ‘Einstein Poster - UNHCR collaboration with Nicosia Bus Company.’ UNHCR Representation in Cyprus. http://unhcr-cyprus.blogspot.sg/ 2009/03/einstein-poster-unhcr-collaboration_2788.html. UNHCR. (2012). 2012–2016 Strategy Report. www.unhcr.org/protection/­operations/ 5149ba349/unhcr-education-strategy-2012-2016.html (accessed 27 March 2017). UNHCR. (2016). Global Education Monitoring Report. May 2016, p. 1. United Nations. (2016). Resolution Adopted by the General Assembly on the 19 September 2016 71 (1). New York Declaration for Refugees and Migrants. (accessed 18 May 2017), pp. 67–72. Wright, L.-A. and Plasterer, R. (2010). ‘Beyond basic education: Exploring opportunities for higher learning in Kenyan refugee camps.’ Refuge, 27(2), pp. 42–56.

Part 2

Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey The stories from…

Myanmar 1 Zaid – Rakhine State 2 Peter – Chin State 3 Maran – Kachin State 4 Andrew – Chin State 5 Nyan Hongsa – Mon State 6 Matthew – Chin State

The rest of the world 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Omran – Syria Bethany – Pakistan Amaal – Somalia Nurain – Sri Lanka Jamilah – Somalia Omar – Iraq Dalir – Iran

Note: in several of the stories, the young people refer to their earnings and other financial worries. All of these have been left in Malaysian Ringgits (MYR), but to help the reader a rough conversion is provided here. One US dollar is approximately 4 MYR, and one UK pound is approximately 5 MYR. So, for example, when Matthew refers to a monthly wage of 800 MYR, he is earning approximately UK£160 or US$200. The statutory minimum monthly wage in peninsular Malaysia is 1,000 MYR.

1 Zaid – Rakhine State

Zaid is currently taking a break from his foundation studies at university. He is working in a friend’s computer shop, earning 5–10 MYR per hour, only paid if there is work to be done. He would like to earn enough money to return to education, but he has yet to figure out how he will ever manage that because he is unable to save on his current salary: ‘Just now I am making money in order to survive.’ He feels like he is wasting a golden opportunity. He had won a scholarship that provided him with free tuition and accommodation, but within three months of starting university he had been forced to stop. The scholarship didn’t pay anything towards his subsistence, the course demanded full-time attendance and he just couldn’t make ends meet. However, he is determined to continue his education in any way he can; he is looking around for part-time courses and online educational opportunities – anything that can give him the flexibility to work and study at the same time. At the moment, there is nothing available, but he keeps looking; he feels that he can never give up. Although he is only in his mid-twenties, Zaid is one of the pillars of the ­Rohingya community in Malaysia. He volunteers at a Rohingya learning centres, teaching basic English, maths and science to the youngest children. He is involved in a motivational scheme to help keep young Rohingya away from crime. Zaid views sport as a powerful tool to help young people come together to support one another: We have a football team as well called Rohingya Football Club. Most of the people know about that club and we are registered with the United Nation as well. So, through football, through education, through counselling, we are doing some things for success in our life. He has confidence in himself, and believes that building up the self-confidence of other young people like himself is essential to refugees’ success. Zaid was born in Myanmar, but when he was five years old, his family fled the country. He remembers little about his life there, but knows that ‘my parents faced a lot of persecution’ as the Rohingya people are not accepted by the

24  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey dominant ethnic groups. His own memories of discrimination are based only on his time in kindergarten: I remember a little bit about that. You know, when Rohingya peoples go to school in Myanmar, [the majority] really don’t like the Muslims. They dislike that they are Muslims. And also the teachers of the schools – as we know, the teachers are the second parents of the child – they didn’t do anything. They aren’t kind to the students. Any Rakhine people, any Rakhine voice, they will beat us, or they will scold us, or they will abuse ­Muslims in ­Myanmar. If we complain against them, they say if you can tolerate those things study here; otherwise, go. And also if anyone wants to study in M ­ yanmar they have to change their name in Rakhine. You can’t study with your real name in Myanmar. However, most of his childhood memories date from after the family arrived in Bangladesh. A refugee camp there was his home for the rest of his childhood. He attended school in the camp; education was available for refugees until the age of Grade 8. Life there was difficult, and the refugees lived in constant fear: We are not allowed to go out from the camp. If we go out from the camp and look at people, they also torture. They arrest the people who are staying in Bangladesh. Even people coming back after work for earning money, then the Bangladesh local people robbed him and beat him. In Bangladesh, if you are in [name of refugee camp] most of the females are raped by the local people. It was in that camp that, at the age of 12, he experienced what he described as the most terrible moment of his life. In 2004, the Bangladesh government had decided to forcibly repatriate the Rohingya refugees to Myanmar. In response, the Rohingya people organized themselves and held a hunger strike. On the third day of the Eid-ul-Fitr festival, the refugees gathered in Zaid’s camp to discuss their campaign. They met in front of one of the many schools that had been set up in the large and sprawling refugees. Zaid and his friends, along with many other children, were curious to see what was happening and went along too to listen to the speeches and the arguments about what to do next. He broke down as he described what happened: Some police authorities came and they started to open fire…They killed one of my friends. Yeah, in front of my eyes. Still I have dreams sometimes. I have flashbacks sometimes about that. This traumatic event was a life-changing moment for Zaid: From that day I promised myself that I will try my best to help my community. If I have to die, I’m ready to die, but I will continue my hard working against whoever wants to take down to the refugees. I don’t want them to

Zaid – Rakhine State  25 take down the refugees, I want them to increase. I want them to have success in their life. I want that. Upon completing this education, he put this resolution into action. He took up a job as an Education Assistant with the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), giving information to other refugees about the importance of education. In his spare time, he volunteered for a local charity set up to support disabled people in the refugee community. His role within the community became increasingly political as he tried to highlight the plight of the Rohingya people within Bangladesh, and he ended up falling foul of the Bangladeshi authorities: After that when many more delegates came from different countries to see the situation of the refugees in Bangladesh, that time we also talked a lot. We discussed a lot with them about the situation in Bangladesh, the situation of refugees, the hardship of refugees. Actually, the Bangladesh government tried to arrest me several times. A few women took me out from the police when the police arrested me…I got arrested 3 times. The first three times that Zaid was arrested, members of the Rohingya community managed to secure his release. However, the fourth time was different: The fourth time, I was sent to the police lock-up for five days, and they beat me a lot. They tried to send me to prison but at that time my body size was very small, a bit short, so that is why they didn’t send me. They warned me a lot. They said that you are not allowed to talk with any foreign people to explain your hardship and about the situation of this camp. They said like that and I said ok. He decided he had to flee Bangladesh. Returning to Myanmar was not an option as the Burmese government does not recognize the Rohingya people as legitimate Burmese citizens; he would not be accepted into the country. He had heard that Rohingya refugees might be safer in Malaysia: For the harassment, I have to leave Bangladesh as well. And I come to ­Malaysia to find our safety. I don’t know what is my nationality. We said we are from Myanmar. But the Myanmar government is not giving us citizenship. His journey to Malaysia was dangerous. He began by taking an overcrowded boat from Bangladesh to Thailand – a trip that took seven days. Once in T ­ hailand, human traffickers took his group to a camp hidden in the jungle. The conditions as they travelled were so terrible that Zaid witnessed other asylum seekers dying of dehydration: In front of my eyes a few people passed away because they didn’t get sufficient food and they didn’t get enough water to drink…around 7 people died

26  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey right in front of my eyes. That time I was really scared. I just prayed to the lord that please save my life. He also believed that the traffickers raped the women, although he didn’t witness anything directly: After the second day one of the traffickers – he’s a Thai – he took one female inside. Then she was crying. She was shouting, please don’t do it, don’t do it. I just heard that voice, and I don’t know what was happening inside the room. At last, he was smuggled through the jungle across the Malaysian border. As his family had already been recognized as refugees in Bangladesh, it only took around six months for his status to be approved by the UNHCR here. This is in contrast to many of the other students in this book, who had to wait around three years before they could obtain a refugee card. Despite being recognized as a refugee, he can still expect to wait years before being resettled. Although his family registered when they reached Bangladesh in the 1990s, he only arrived in Malaysia and joined the register here in 2013 – and this is the date that will be counted for Zaid’s resettlement. At the moment, the massive backlog of refugee applications means that the UNHCR is processing people who arrived in or before 2010. Since arriving in Malaysia, Zaid has continued to work for his community. He has been employed part-time by the UNHCR as a translator. His work for them is unpredictable; sometimes he is asked to travel around the country to support Rohingya people at their arrival point in Malaysia – whether they come by boat or through the jungle. In between, he is based at the UNHCR Headquarters in Kuala Lumpur. One of the benefits of his current position has been the chance to see what is going on at the UNHCR Headquarters. For example, he has had the opportunity to attend campaign meetings of the various groups of people working for refugee rights within Malaysia. His position in the UNCHR also meant that when universities started to open their doors up to refugees, he was one of the first to hear about it. His friends in the UNHCR Education Office knew that he was keen to go to university, and gave him an application form. A few weeks later, he was called to the university for an interview. Zaid had an excellent academic record from his schooling in ­Bangladesh, and he had brought the evidence of his prior learning with him to Malaysia: I gave them my educational certificates, and they were surprised to see my certificates. Because the full marks are 5 points, and I got 4.98 point or something. So when they saw that, they said, wow that is good. A few days later received the email confirming that a scholarship had been awarded: Then I was really happy. The first day at the University was my golden day… That was the best day for me. That day, I was really happy; I don’t know how to explain about that day.

Zaid – Rakhine State  27 It was only a few weeks later that he had to stop studying in order to be able to survive. Zaid is in Malaysia alone. He has no family to support him. He is the oldest of five children, but the rest of his family remains in Bangladesh. He is not sure when, or whether, he will see them again. The government there has recently mandated that all refugees should study Bangla, which seemed to suggest that they intended to integrate them into the country, but Zaid is sceptical about that. He is uncertain what the future will hold for his younger siblings: Because we are staying inside our camps. It is like a prison for us. Because it is already twenty-five years that the refugees stayed in Bangladeshi refugee camp, and still nothing is changing. Because they don’t have any proper documents, they don’t have any legal status. He explained why getting a degree is so important to him. His dream is to return to university and to study for a degree in international relations. He hopes to use this to travel to developed nations and to campaign for the human rights that he himself has been denied: I am registered under the UNHCR, that is the only thing I have. I don’t have anything. And also in my childhood I never get children’s rights in this world. As a human, as a child, I have so many rights – rights to education, rights to freedom. But still I don’t know what is freedom. I am not independent. Until he is resettled, he is unable to travel; if he tried to leave Malaysia he would be immediately detained by the immigration authorities for entering the country illegally. To Zaid, getting into an international university in Malaysia, or anywhere, will not just benefit himself but will also enable him to raise awareness about the situation faced by the Rohingya people. It will enable him to make connections with people from around the world. At times during the interview he was despondent, feeling that the world has turned its back on the genocide happening in his country: Nobody is facing the Rohingyas’ situation. Now they have become a football for all. At other times, he sounded more optimistic that once people know the truth of what is happening to his people, they will intervene to stop it. He sees education as a key way to achieve that: University means not to get a degree only. At university, you can meet lots of interesting students from different cultures, from different countries, and you can make good relationships with them. So, yeah, if you have a problem with [the Burmese government], you inform your university friends, your university classmates, yeah, he is going to give that information to his country’s people …Then all over the world people will know

28  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey how people survived. If anyone needs help for anything, then they will come together to help. Zaid believes that education is necessary for success in life, whether that success be measured in money, fame or the ability to help one’s own community. For now, his own education remains on hold. However, he still believes that education is essential to his people. He continues to publicize university opportunities for refugees, limited as they are, to other Rohingya youth. He is trying to use his influence in the community to encourage both young men and women to continue studying: There is a proverb that one kid says to the Lord, give me an educated mom and I will offer you an educated nation. He finished his interview with a proverb: Education is the backbone of the nation.

2 Peter – Chin State

Peter was partway through his foundation studies in engineering at university when he was forced to dropout to deal with family problems. One of his sisters had fallen in love with a young man from their community living in Kuala Lumpur (KL) and become pregnant. For a young refugee in ­M alaysia, becoming pregnant – even in a committed and loving relationship – can feel like a disaster. There are many stories circulating in refugee circles about young women who are detained by the police when they go into hospital to give birth and then deported as soon as they and their newborn are discharged. Peter’s family asked around and heard of a place on the Myanmar-India border where his sister could access medical care safely without too many questions being asked. Then they had to find the money to pay agents to smuggle her out of Malaysia and into India. Peter had to suspend his studies and find a job: It was a very, very tough decision to make. And I had to go around and work out what is the safest way of getting her back. Agents and all those things. Although her boyfriend had stayed behind in Malaysia, at the point of the interview the family had not decided whether or when his sister would return. Their father was still too furious about the pregnancy, and her boyfriend was struggling to earn the money to pay more agents to bring her back. Through it all, though, Peter remained determined that he would resume his education. He had just informed the university that he was ready to return. Peter is from Chin state, a multi-ethnic state in the west of Myanmar which is largely Christian. He was born in a small village with about 30 households. He described life there as ‘a simple, farmer’s life.’ His mother grew vegetables and his father kept pigs. Sometimes he went hunting with his uncle at the weekends. As the only son of the family, he was expected to help his father on the smallholding. His two younger sisters helped his mother. His primary school was in the village, but for secondary education he had to travel to the nearest town, about eight miles away. His family did not own a car, and he was only able to go back home at weekends. During the week, he

30  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey stayed in a hostel in town run by friends of his parents. He described himself as an ‘excellent student,’ who was always in the top handful of students in his class. Peter had just finished secondary school and had travelled back to his village to await his exam results. Each year, all the neighbouring villages combined to organize a ‘camping crusade,’ a Christian festival with prayers, preaching and worship. Unfortunately, this year Peter was sick; he remembers running a terribly high fever and that his mother walked to a town four miles away to try to get him some medicine. With everyone else at the ‘crusade,’ he was one of the few young men in his village when the soldiers arrived. The military came, and they asked my dad and me, and a few of the other villagers too, to follow them, especially the males. It was a tough day. My dad said that I was just recovering and asked the military, please, not my son. They beat him for that, just for that. And they said no. Well, we didn’t have a choice and we followed them. Evening was drawing in. Peter was given a heavy bag to carry, and the soldiers led the group out of the village and into the mountains. The villagers were terrified because they had no idea what the soldiers had in mind for them: One thing that scared me the most is that it used to happen once in a while, but not that often – but whenever people were taken with them they never come back. We knew some had run away, but some others we couldn’t ever trace. What will happen to us? That thought is the most scary one. But when we left, dad said pray to god and we will be fine. The soldiers led them on a path into the jungle: We didn’t use the normal route. We used what we call the jungle route – that we use only when we hunt. We didn’t go to the normal road, so the place was just hill and you just have to go with it and there is no proper road. As they walked on into the night, Peter was still feeling unwell. Peter had no idea where they were going; he was so feverish that he couldn’t even remember how many people from his village were in the group: My dad was so scared, you know, because I was just recovering, and I’m pale – really, really pale - at that time… All I remember is that I was so scared. Eventually, the soldiers told them to stop, and they made an improvised camp in the middle of the jungle. This was where the ‘worst thing’ occurred: I was raped when we went to the jungle with the military. Nearly choked to death and raped by one soldier.

Peter – Chin State  31 Peter’s father decided to act. He had decided that their best chance of escape was to flee back through the jungle in the middle of the night, to collect the rest of the family and get away as best they could: At night, my father woke me up and he said, ‘follow me’. I didn’t know that we were running away. I held him by the shirt and I didn’t even know where we were going. And we were headed back to town…The next morning, early morning, he asked my mom and my two sisters to come along. We just went. There was barely time to say goodbye to anyone. His grandmother walked with them for the first mile, sobbing all the way. They didn’t have any idea where to go next. Their first thought was to seek refuge at his aunt’s house. However, once there, they were still terrified that the military would hunt them down: [My aunt] put us in with the agent, and they said you have to flee the country as soon as possible. With the agent, we just flee. His father had no money with him, but his aunt paid half of the fee to the agent. It was agreed that Peter’s family would complete the payment out of their earnings once they got to Malaysia. Peter described the journey. He believed that he had found it harder than his younger sisters. The family came south through Myanmar, then the length of the Thailand and finally down the Malaysian peninsula – a journey of about 3,000 kilometres. Peter was unclear about some of the aspects of his journey; he remembered particular experiences, but usually didn’t know exactly where they were nor the reasons for each twist and turn in the journey. Sometimes, he was kept with other members of his family, and at other times they were separated from one another. At one point, the family were on an overnight boat, although Peter didn’t know where they were going to nor why a boat was needed. After that, he remembered being one of five young men cramped into the back of a van: There was only one small pipe for the air coming in. It was a deadly experience. If one person put their mouth there, then all of us had no air. But it was manageable. We could breathe. The traffickers would hide them like that for the parts of the journey where they feared inspections from the authorities, and then put them back into normal seats once the danger had passed again: We rode a mini bus to the border, and from there we walked and we walked. We spent around 3 days in Thailand, walking all the way. My sisters are even tougher than me. I am the only one. They can even talk all the way, I rarely talked. Then we reached the Malaysian border. We crossed a lot of paddy

32  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey fields. From Malaysia, we had a private car, like a minivan, something like that and they took us to KL. And they dropped us near Times Square. Peter’s family had arrived in the middle of KL. Times Square is a huge shopping mall in the middle of the central business district, on a road bustling with traffic, hotels, shops and restaurants. The contrast with his village could not have been more striking: A shocking thing…It was too huge suddenly. It was just amazing, really, really amazing at first. We looked really lost. Really, really lost doing everything. Even a big car, all those big buses, I just saw them on TV a lot, but not this close. It was so much. A big huge thing, a huge thing, a really huge thing. Peter remembered that his feeling of being overwhelmed by the city continued for several months: [My sisters] were easier to adapt. Actually, I think I am the only emotional one. I am the only son in the family. My father always told me to be a man, be a man, my own man. The agent asked them their ethnicity, and then told them to wait until he returned. For two hours, they stood in the midst of this bewildering bustle alone. When he came back, he took them to a doorway between shop lots in another part of the city. The rooms overhead had been converted into a Chin community church. There, they were welcomed by other Chin refugees. The Chin refugee community supported the family in various ways. The primary concern was to find a job – the agent still needed paying, and the family needed to eat – so Peter’s father was offered a job as caretaker for the church to help them through the first few months. Elders in the church then helped Peter and his sisters to find work, with a friend of his father’s putting Peter forward for a job in a local restaurant. They were also given advice on life in Malaysia: The church also introduced us with the UNHCR. We didn’t know there was UNHCR or anything. And my dad didn’t want it…He didn’t want to do anything. We just stayed like that for around a year, without any proper documentation. We were scared of the police. Another friend from the Chin community introduced him to Western volunteers in a refugee learning centre. One of these volunteers, a British man, decided to befriend Peter: He fell for me, I guess, and he’s really taken care of me since then. He came by the work, and he taught me English, and he bought me books and magazines and all that.

Peter – Chin State  33 Peter settled into life as a migrant in Malaysia during the months that followed. However, although he received support and help from some quarters, he also faced various dangers. First, he was terrified of being deported; he was arrested six times, but on each occasion managed to talk his way out. Second, he was threatened by other refugees working in the same restaurant: I didn’t work there that long before there was an incident and people tried to kill me. Yup. It was shocking. In that shop restaurant, from the kitchen… They were Burmese. The reason is that after a few days the boss really liked me and he put me straight into the bar. According to their system, I shouldn’t get there until after 3 months’ experience. I think they got jealous. And then one time I ordered the wrong food and I asked them to cancel it before they cooked it. But it was a problem and they started arguing. Then they said, what do you think you are, and they were peeping out a knife. I was so scared, but the manager protected me. I told that teacher [the volunteer who befriended him] and he immediately picked me up and said never go back there again. Never, ever go there again. So, again I ended up in the church for maybe 6 months. I couldn’t work anywhere again after that. Traumatized by the threats, Peter decided to put his energy into volunteering in refugee learning centre where his British friend worked, passing on what he had learnt from his secondary education. At this point in his life, Peter had given up on his own educational ambitions: I said I’m over 18 already and I’m not getting to college or anything anymore. So, I just gave up and worked. That’s what I used to think, and taught myself. But I think this is not the right decision that I made back then. It is a terrible decision. Because through education we can see a variety of things and huge potential that lies ahead. And then by giving up that, my mental level was quite low. All I could think of was being a servant and how can I serve better. You know, how can I work? That gives us a bad influence and a bad attitude as well. During the next two years, however, his British friend bought him many gifts, and also taught him English. Peter had enjoyed learning English during his secondary education in Myanmar. However, the focus there had been on learning the grammar, and even the teacher barely spoke English. To have the support of someone who really spoke the language was invaluable: He was with me for around 2 years. He really takes care of me, buying me everything I need. Socks, clothes, and he used to hang out with me after that incident. He came by the church and then introduced himself to my parents. Then in early 2013, he left to the UK. He said all my savings are gone, so I have to go back.

34  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey During this period, Peter’s educational ambitions started to reawaken. His main hope was that a better education could give him some kind of economic security. Without qualifications, he realized that refugees like himself would always have to start at the very bottom in a new workplace. However hard they worked, each time they changed jobs, they would be expected to work their way from the beginning again. They had to obey the pecking order, and if they didn’t then they risked the threats and violence that had happened to him. Getting a qualification was a way of avoiding this: From my point of view, education is the key because if you get a qualification you can start at that position at any time. For example, let’s say I’m an accountant; if the job is not good, next time I can start from that same level. Not the very low thing. And let’s say that guy or girl who worked from the very basic level and they got kicked out or had to move away from their job; where is he or she going to start? From the same thing as before; from the basic. With renewed determination and better English skills, he decided to look in to how to access higher education. He was willing to try anything. For example, another expatriate had tried to set up an online platform for refugee education. Peter trialled the programme: It is a pretty good program. So they tested me to go through everything. I made it. But not all the refugees are like me. I can read, I can write and I can respond to the teacher using online chat and everything. But for the current youths, they won’t be able to do it. And also it requires a lot of commitment. And internet access is one of the problems. Although eight students enrolled initially, all of them apart from Peter dropped out – some after as little as one session. Every spare moment needs to be put into earning, Peter explained, with most of his friends working at least six days a week and sometimes only getting one or two days off a month. He concluded that ‘everything comes back to the financial issue.’ He knew that he needed to find a way to study without having to juggle long hours of work at the same time. Through his connections at the learning centre and the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), he heard about a private university that had agreed to open its doors to refugees to study ‘business.’ Full of excitement, he applied and was offered a place. At this point, it transpired that they would only allow refugee students to attend a handful of their vocational courses, and courses such as hairdressing were not the kind of business that he had in mind. Shortly after, he heard that a second university was admitting refugees, and applied again. He was accepted. Getting an offer of a place was an amazing achievement, but actually starting his studies involved overcoming a number of other hurdles. The primary

Peter – Chin State  35 obstacle was financial; his current university waives fees for refugee students and provides accommodation on campus, but he is expected to support himself. Again, his work as a volunteer at a refugee learning centre has proved critical in making this possible. One of his fellow volunteers, an expatriate, heard of his financial difficulties and offered to help. She organized a group of her expatriate friends to make donations and between them they have raised enough to give him a monthly stipend. Even when he dropped out of university, they continued to support him whilst encouraging him to return to his studies as soon as possible: They said, it doesn’t matter, we don’t just support you because you are studying. We try to help your life. The secondary issues were about adapting to a new educational culture. In ­Myanmar, he had been a star student and was famous in his town for having memorized the longest psalm in the Bible, whereas when he started at a Western university this skill was no longer valued: English was a by-heart system, basically. Physics by-heart system, chemistry by-heart system. To be honest, our biology was like this thick, like one inch. I can mention the whole page, the whole book. I can mention the whole book. If you give me one sentence I can mention the whole page…Yeah, memorize the whole thing. That is the system in Burma, which is very different from here. Once he started at university, Peter began to appreciate that whilst the Myanmar system had given him knowledge, there were different skills and types of understanding that were valued in his new educational context: I think is the biggest issue right now. Because everything we memorized. We didn’t really get it in practical. After we memorized, we tend to forget. Related to this was his struggle to understand how things worked at this new university. When he first arrived at the university, he didn’t understand which courses were open to him as a refugee. Because the first university had limited the courses it opened to refugees, he assumed that it would be the same situation here – and applied for business again. As a result, he wasted several months studying business without his heart being in it. It was only when he discovered that refugees were allowed to enrol in any course that he switched to one that truly interested him. He argued that refugees need not only access to courses but proper guidance in order to succeed: It is really important if you open your door, to see it from the perspective of a refugee. We have a lot of bad things, financial problems. And we don’t know what kind of things lie ahead. We don’t know; we are totally blind.

36  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey I didn’t even know what subject to choose at first. So we need guidance; you need to specifically mentor us on what will happen and how we can be helped. So I think if I were a professor or in a position, I think it is my duty to help all these young adults to get an education for a brighter future. Because if I didn’t do it, I would feel like I am spoiling the whole generation. Reflecting on how he had been able to access education, Peter identified three key factors – money, an ability to leverage networks and his confidence in speaking English. First, he saw the financial support he had received as critical: And then one of the biggest thing, the biggest ever thing was the chance to study – that was the greatest – but apart from it the thing that really made me go through is the sponsorship. You know, I had to work. If I don’t work, my family had to support me and that’s impossible in the refugee life right now. Every youth there is in the same situation. They want to go to the university, but they don’t have the same background as I did, with people trying to help me out with the financial issue. Second, he pointed to the way he had received support from others, including people he had met in the UNHCR. He felt that his openness about his educational dreams with the people around had helped; certainly, in the case of expatriate donors this had led directly to him getting financial support. To this end, he had spoken to expatriate volunteers, to newspaper journalists and to the UNHCR itself. To be honest, I don’t hide anything to my surroundings whatever it is. Let’s say sponsorships and everything, and what I wanted to do. Even though I am teaching I always just mentioned to other people that if I have a chance I would like to continue my studies. I know that education is the key, and then if I can get at least a degree I can get work properly and not as a servant. That would be very nice. I have been talking to other people all the time. And a lot of sharing I did. The fact that he was known to the Education Department of the UNHCR was an added advantage, adding ‘I shared it to the education department of the UNHCR, and they personally know me very well.’ These networks helped him to negotiate an unfamiliar system, and to find out the information that he needed. Despite his confusion about which course to enrol in, Peter thought that he was better informed than other young refugees and asylum seekers: I would consider myself lucky among my teenage groups because I used to volunteer and I’ve been a principal, and I’ve been a permanent teacher which is linked to the UNHCR. So I have got all the emails, and I’ve

Peter – Chin State  37 got a chance to explore and to ask around about how I can pursue my education? Third, he had a strong background in English grammar from Myanmar and had developed a clear English accent through the support of his British friend in KL. At the time of the interview, he was offering English classes to other young refugees as a way of helping them to access education themselves. Unfortunately, many found it impossible to attend regularly – as before, the pressure to work stands in their way. Peter had begun his university studies simply determined to secure a better economic future for his family; however, education had come to mean more to him than that. It gave him an equality that he couldn’t get in other spheres of his life. First, this happened because of the ideas that he was able to explore: For me, personally, it means more than that. It’s connections where I can explore different things, rather than being just a refugee. Second, it meant that he could access the safety and respect given to other students: To be honest, just even having a proper student card we feel safer. Because even though I am holding a UNHCR card, if the police stop us they will ask for money. Nowadays it is less, but previously it was quite common; they would just simply check your wallet. They will not ask, they will just take it and put it in their back pocket and walk off. But if there is a student card, they wouldn’t do that. And then they ask which university we are attending, and the universities that offer places to refugees are quite popular in Malaysia, so they don’t dare. Peter is looking for economic security and the chance to contribute to society. He described his ambitions in very simple terms: Since I arrived in Malaysia, my highest dream is to become a person who can support my relatives. My relatives can be friends, even a nation, even families. Peter hadn’t encountered the concept of a refugee until he arrived in Malaysia. Like many of the other young people we interviewed, he was eager to stress that this wasn’t something he had chosen to become. He didn’t want to be seen as anyone who was demanding anything special from the world. All that he wants now is to be treated like everyone else – in a place ‘where we can be normal.’ He is happy to be resettled in any country where he is ‘accepted.’ If he could be integrated in Malaysia, he would be happy to stay and to try to contribute to the country. The one thing he longs for at the moment is the right to speak out. He doesn’t ask for much – ‘just a voice.’

38  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey Through his volunteering work, he has come into contact with refugees from many different communities. He believes that the key to keeping them involved in education is to foster their optimism: And I would like to give them a message; if they get offered anything, any better chances, just grab it. Other things will come up with that automatically. If you have the passion, if you have the willingness, people are always supporting you, if you have that potential. Because most of us scared and afraid of disappointing other people. I used to be a lot. And then my lecturer and my sponsor, they told us that sometimes there are things that are beyond our control. There is a situation where we just have to go with it and things will happen automatically. We have to believe in ourselves. And do our best. Then we will achieve whatever we are doing. He continues to be haunted by memories of his rape, and suffers from recurrent nightmares. This has lessened in recent months, since he entered into a serious relationship and told his girlfriend about what had happened to him. Knowing that she accepts and loves him anyway has been important in helping him to come to terms with it. He is also grateful to the UNHCR for having handled his case so sensitively when he has had to recount events to case officers. Peter believes that positive things have come out of his experiences. He feels that they have given him insight into others’ problems, a knowledge that he can overcome the worst, and so have helped him to become a guide for other young people in his community. Until his grandfather’s time, Peter’s family were considered the royalty of their people. Then, the central government appointed an official instead and ignored the traditional lines of leadership. Now, Peter feels that he is ready to reassert his inheritance and to become a leader for his people here in KL because I can stand firm, no matter what.

3 Maran – Kachin State

Maran, the eldest of three children, comes from Kachin State, in the north of Myanmar. He travelled to Malaysia alone at the age of 20, and the rest of his family remains in Myanmar. Maran manages to speak to them fairly regularly as his aunty – who lives in the nearby town – has a telephone. Although he misses them, Maran doesn’t want his family to join him in Malaysia: Because if I knew Malaysia would be like this, then I would not come here. But now I don’t want to go back to Myanmar so I will just stay here. Maran explained why he felt this way: The fact that they do not welcome us. The fact that they do not like refugees. If I knew that, I would not come. I thought that they would take pity on us a little bit. The situation that we have now, I would better go to China, if I knew that about Malaysia. He has experienced constant discrimination. For example, one time he was taking a taxi ride with a friend. He sat in the front passenger seat until the driver heard them talking to one another in Burmese. At that, he ordered Maran to join his friend in the back of the cab: He didn’t want to sit with me. It’s a small thing, but you know if it happens many times, you feel it. Going to university wasn’t something that he had ever envisaged for himself, but his experiences as a refugee have transformed his attitude to education. Maran has managed to start undergraduate studies in Malaysia; he is currently in his first year of a social science degree. Maran’s story explained how this change had occurred. Maran had completed his schooling in Myanmar. He went to the primary school in his village before attending high school in the local town, staying with his aunt during the week and making the two-hour motorbike ride back to his village each weekend. Back then, education didn’t mean a lot to him, and he

40  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey described himself as a ‘lazy student.’ He had become switched off by an education system that had seemed to him fundamentally unfair: In Myanmar it is very funny, you don’t have to go to school. As long as you have money, you can pay your teacher and you can pass the exam. Not even in the high school, even in the university. If you have money, you can do that. I think they have changed a lot now, but back them the system was like that. So if you are a rich family you can do anything you want. But we are not. Maran felt that the education he had received in Myanmar had been fairly worthless. Everything is in the textbook. You read the passage, then you answer it on your answer sheet by heart. For the test, the teacher usually tells us ‘this will be in the exam’, so we basically just learned it by heart. They didn’t change anything, so it’s very easy to pass the exam. Even Mathematics, they didn’t change plus, minus, anything or the number. Maran does not come from an educated family. However, his mother continually stressed the value of education: My mom pushed me a lot for education. We didn’t have money, but she never hesitated giving money for my tuition and for my school fees. Nevertheless, he decided that education was not for him and by the time he turned 20, he was living and working in the town, returning to his family only during holiday periods. In the summer of 2012, Maran returned home as usual for his summer holiday, and found the Burmese police were in the village. He and his family were already used to seeing them. Sometimes a truck of troops came and stayed for a few days. They might ask the villagers for food before they left, but there was no trouble beyond that. That summer, though, the police seemed more aggressive. His father began to worry about the family’s safety, but Maran was unconcerned. He still felt it was safe for him to walk around the village. One day, he attended an evening service at the church and was walking back with a friend when they encountered two drunken policemen. That was when the trouble started: They asked questions they shouldn’t ask, using some dirty words. Then my father said they would definitely come and find us so we’d better go to somewhere. They didn’t come for us, but they came for my friends. They didn’t come for me. They went to our friends and they said will you tell those two something, and they took all the chicken and ducks from their farm. So my father said you’d better go.

Maran – Kachin State  41 The family had heard enough stories of police brutality to take the threats seriously, and his parents immediately started to ask around for help in leaving the country. Through a friend of a friend, they managed to make contact with agents who could arrange the journey. Maran joined four other young men from his town who also needed to leave. Their journey from Kachin State to Kuala Lumpur (KL) took two weeks. Some days, they squatted in the back of a van all day. At other times, they would be told to get out and walk through the jungle. Maran has never had a passport, so – like thousands of other young Burmese – he crossed the border into ­Thailand on a one day visa. The group awaited their Thai agent for three days at the nearby border town. He took them south to Bangkok, the Thai capital. From there, they took a sleeper train to the Malaysian border. By this time, Maran had become increasingly worried about the journey. Before he left Kachin State, Maran had heard of people going to Malaysia or ­Thailand. It was rumoured to be the way to get a better life. People left his area in search of safety and the opportunity to earn more money. It was only after he had entered Thailand that he realized that what he was doing was illegal and dangerous: I just got to realise [it was illegal] when I was in Thailand. This guy showed me some photos of some people who traveled from Myanmar to Malaysia where they were stuck in the back of a truck and this lady died in the truck. And there were like 40 people in the truck. Stuck. Covered with the vegetables, with the chicken and pigs. I got shocked. Luckily I wasn’t in that kind of truck. So, when the group arrived at the Malaysian border, he knew enough to be nervous. He knew that the colour of their skin and their language marked them out as Burmese. However, it all went smoothly: ‘I think my agent paid the police some money, so they just let us pass.’ From there, they journeyed on to KL. Over the course of their journey, they had travelled by foot, motorbike, car, van and train. Maran was reliant on help from the Kachin community to help him find his feet in his new country. As soon as he arrived, he was collected from the agent’s house by a friend of his cousin. Within a few days, he had moved into a shared flat with other Kachin refugees. However, at the same time as needing them, he was also vulnerable to exploitation by established members of the community, and was swindled out of most of his money soon after he arrived. A community leader told him he needed a community card, warning him that if he didn’t have one he could be thrown into jail for months and then deported back to ­Myanmar. Maran was convinced: I was so scared, I just gave him everything I had, 360 MYR. Then he made me that card. And after I got that card, I know that the card was just rubbish. The police didn’t care anything about that card.

42  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey It wasn’t until the following year that he discovered he should seek asylum through the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), and managed to get an official asylum-seeker card from them. Maran had no idea what Malaysia was going to be like, and at first he experienced a culture shock: I asked my mother before I left Myanmar, what language do they speak in Malaysia and what kind of people live there? I really didn’t know anything. I came here and I saw so many Chinese. And I hardly saw women with headscarves back in my town. Here I saw many such people and they spoke English. He was also shocked by the unexpected hostility to refugees that he encountered: I even thought that they would welcome us here. I thought they would pity us because we are refugees. But when I got here, it was totally different. I don’t feel like they are bad, because we are illegal in their country. I was told many times by my friend who had stayed here for a long time, he said, ‘If police catch you, don’t do anything. Just give them what they ask for.’ Money. Sometimes they ask for food. Luckily, I am not a girl so they cannot hurt me that much. If they punch you, you just bear with it. They actually slapped my friend because he had only got 100MYR and they asked for 500MYR because he had got only the community card. He only had 100, and they slapped him. But the thing is, we don’t know if the police are fake or genuine police because we heard that so many Malaysian guys are wearing this blue suit and asking people from Bangladesh and Myanmar. He also felt helpless: One time, I was actually robbed in the taxi and the taxi driver just dumped me on the street. And I didn’t know where to go. I was thinking, oh, should I go to the police station? Should I call my family or should I call the organization? And I called my friend, and asked who should I call? He said, don’t go anywhere, no one will care. If you go to the police, do you think they will protect you, they will care for you, they will listen to you? We are very helpless here. I saw this woman who was raped and then got a baby. She was only 18 years old. Where should she go to? She went to the UNHCR but she was rejected, and sent to the community. But many of the communities don’t have that much support. As a result, he hated life in Malaysia at first. As he had lost nearly all of his money, he had to find work straightaway. Friends from the community helped him to look around for suitable work, and he embarked on a series of short-term jobs. His first job was a part-time one, working in a Chinese dim sum restaurant. In return for carrying a huge tray of dim sum for six hours, he earned 45 MYR per

Maran – Kachin State  43 day. He had to walk to and from the restaurant alone; his friends advised him it was too dangerous to travel in a group: We can’t walk together because it is very obvious. When the police see us, they will know we are from Myanmar and they will ask for money. So we have to travel separately. He felt nervous and exhausted. Although he was soon able to find full-time work in another restaurant, he was still struggling to make ends meet as he took one waitering job after another. He spoke minimal English, and quickly noticed that this was going to limit his ability to earn money. Without a means of communicating, he could be a dishwasher or a toilet cleaner, but he could only serve tables in the cheapest restaurants; none of these options would give him a living wage. He decided to study English in his free time simply to aid communication at work. Within a few weeks, he found that things were getting easier. I could say ‘what would you like to drink’ instead of just ‘drink’ and they would be happy. So I improved a little bit. So I studied more and more. At that point, his restaurant got a new manager – a woman who had just returned from Australia. She was surprised to see him reading magazines with a dictionary, and making notes as he listened to YouTube, and asked what he was doing. When he explained that he was trying to learn English, she offered to help. From then on, they would practice together whenever there was a break between customers. She also urged him not to be shy about speaking in English whenever he got the chance. His oral English skills increased rapidly, but he still didn’t know how to write the language, and he worried that this would hold him back. After a few months, he changed job again. In his new restaurant, he met a Chinese man who was studying English full time with the British Council, a language school in the centre of KL. Maran was excited by the idea of studying there, but unsure whether they would accept a refugee student. He was also worried about travelling around KL without a passport, as he remained afraid of the police. He decided that the safest way to study would be to move apartments, so that he was as close as possible to the British Council. It was only after he had done that that he found out how expensive their English classes were – he had anticipated paying a few ringgits, and instead it cost 900 MYR for each short course: It was so expensive but I had no choice. I really wanted it, so I saved money. I went to the British Council and I took 3 courses. Each time Maran wanted to enrol in a course, he had to work for three to four months to save up sufficient money. Luckily, one of the teachers there decided to take him under her wing. She offered to support him for free so that he could

44  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey continue studying whilst he saved up between courses. Each time, she continued to correct his essays and answer his questions by email until he could enrol again. After completing three courses, Maran had seen the benefits of study: I was enjoying being able to speak English with people. You know, people were kind of impressed, oh you are from Myanmar, you speak English. Where did you learn? So I enjoyed it. He also noticed that the manager of his latest restaurant treated him differently from the other refugee workers because of his language skills. He was given a little more respect than the other refugees – and he was also paid more. Over the next year, Maran continued to study English in various ways. At first, he enrolled in another English course – with the YMCA this time, as it was substantially cheaper. There, he made friends with some other refugees who were also trying to improve their English. For a while, they met with a university lecturer who offered to give them group tuition in his spare time for a nominal fee. By the time his teaching timetable became too busy, they had met an American woman who offered to help them instead: She was with her husband from America and teaching Bible to Myanmar people. So she wanted to know our culture and our language. She said I will teach you English and you teach me Burmese. So she taught us for free, no charge. Her support for the group had continued until the present, with her occasionally proofreading his university essays and giving advice on the grammar. During this period, he decided that he wanted to continue his education and approached the Education Office of the UNHCR to find out whether there were any other study opportunities for refugees in Malaysia. Eventually, they sent him a form to apply to his current university. He passed on the details to the other refugees who were studying English with him, and they all decided to apply together. Studying at an international university has been a challenge. First, he has had to adjust to a completely new way of doing education. He arrived on campus expecting to be given the information he needed to know by the lecturers. Instead, he is expected to read and research independently. Second, he has also experienced prejudice from the other students; whenever they put themselves into study groups, he is always left with the two other students from Myanmar: I think Malaysians think they are up there and Myanmar down there. They are too high and Myanmar are too low. Not only police but all the ­Malaysians. Sometimes, in the classroom, in a group discussion – we know that we don’t have that kind of education and information like they have,

Maran – Kachin State  45 but sometimes we just want to contribute a little bit of our ideas. But, sadly, if you are from Myanmar they don’t really want it. That is my feeling. ­ aran. In addition, supporting himself during his studies has been a struggle for M He was determined to be a full-time student, so that the pressures of work were not distracting him from his studies, but this has meant that he is financially dependent and building up a debt: My cousin sends me money. She is in America and she sends me 400 MYR a month. Actually, I don’t want other people to help me. I feel very ashamed asking for money from my sister, but I said just three years. Just three years. However, it has also brought him benefits. First, he is safer; when Maran started studying at the university, he was able to move out from his apartment block in the city and onto the campus. He heard from friends that shortly after he left there was an immigration swoop on the same apartment block As a result, a tragedy had occurred: One Filipino lady fell down from the seventh floor because she was so scared. The police were coming in so she didn’t know what to do and she just jumped off the seventh floor and she died on the spot. She was illegal. That was just after I arrived here. He now feels far safer travelling around the city because his student card offers some degree of protection: With the student card, the police stop us and think, oh they might be ­Chinese. They don’t stop and ask us. Last week we went to KL, just to see our teacher for our presentation, and we were with the student card and we felt quite safe. We belong to this community and they will not disturb us. Alongside this, he feels that the insights that he is getting from his course are invaluable: Some may think that being in a university is just for a job, but it is more than a job. It makes you sensible and makes you think and gives you knowledge… It changes your view about the world. Although Maran was initially motivated to pursue his education in order to improve his job prospects, over the years his motivation changed. He is fascinated by the critical perspective on society he is getting from his current course: The information that I’ve got now – and basically culture – it’s very interesting for me. We have never thought about it before.

46  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey When Maran first arrived in Malaysia, he had no intention of continuing his education: I didn’t think of going to university when I came here. The whole intention was work, save money, resettle and bring your family to that country too. That’s all. Maran identified two main reasons why he believes many other refugees like himself at that time are reluctant to pursue their education. First, he argued that many of them had lost their belief in the power of education. Whilst he was studying English at the restaurant, he had tried to persuade one of his friends, a Rohingya refugee, to join him, but the friend wasn’t interested: I think he doesn’t believe in education any more. Because we were in ­ yanmar studying, going to school for more than 10 years, and we didn’t M get anything from all our study. Even if you graduate, there are a lot of people who graduate, and at the end you don’t get a job. Second, he knew that they had other priorities apart from education – the primary one being financial: They just want to save money. They don’t want to study anymore. So they want to basically work, work, work, save money, money, money. And resettle. And even after they resettle in the States or Australia, they don’t study; they just work. Some don’t know they can study at university, for lack of information, and some know it but they just don’t want to study. Maran had also met many refugees who did want to continue their education but didn’t know how to go about it: I think there are also people out who really want to study, but they just don’t know where to go. They are still afraid of coming out from that place. They feel like if they come out from that place they still a lot of danger from the police. With the UNHCR card, they think they cannot do that much. Maran is sceptical about whether online education will be able to help many refugees. He is concerned that without the necessary language skills, many refugees will not be able to access online courses. He also thinks people from Myanmar would prefer face to face contact with their teacher. After years of just trying to make ends meet in a series of menial jobs, Maran has started cautiously looking ahead to the future. Right now, his ambition is to pursue postgraduate studies. He knows that he will have to work for a couple of years after graduating – to pay off his debt and to save up some more money – but after that he would like to resume his education.

Maran – Kachin State  47 There was no self-pity in Maran’s interview. On the contrary, he stressed how average he was; he had met refugees facing far greater hardship than himself. He was volunteering in a clinic for refugees immediately before he joined the university. There, he had met people who were unable to get medical attention because they were asylum seekers and didn’t yet have their UNHCR card. He saw people who had fallen from construction sites, others needing operations, women about to have babies and some just waiting to die. Yet, even there he saw divisions among the refugees, with some not wanting to be treated by volunteers who didn’t share their religion or ethnicity. Maran knew that what he had experienced was typical of refugees in KL: I have never talked about this to anyone. No-one wants to listen. It’s such a boring story. If I told my friends, they would say it is such a normal story. Everyone is facing those problems.

4 Andrew – Chin State

Andrew is studying for a Diploma in Business Administration. For him, getting an education is primarily about economic security, rather than because of any passion that he feels for the subject: It’s not that we are planning to do business; it’s just that we want to be recognised by the organisation or company that we have a degree, so that we can work and not just like a normal worker – we get a place. That’s why we chose it. He doesn’t really see himself as a businessman; his original vocation was the church. He grew up close to Chin State, in a predominantly Christian part of Myanmar. After completing his schooling (up to Grade 10), he travelled to India to attend Bible College. His uncle was also educated as a pastor, and had sent his own son to college, and now he encouraged his nephew to do the same. Andrew’s journey to Bangalore took ten days, and he entered India without any proper documentation, just as his cousin had done before him: My cousin studied in India, and his friend was the son of the President of the college. So he recommended me to his friend, so that I can study in his college. He remained at the College for the next four-and-a-half-years. It was while he was in India that he learnt English. Students came to the Bible College from different parts of South Asia, and the common tongue they were trained in was English: Back in the Bible College we were not allowed to speak our own dialects, mother tongue. We were only allowed to speak in English. So we were trained for that. It’s not that I am perfect or good in English, but I am trained for it. Like we were forced to do that. After completing his training, he returned home to become an assistant pastor in the church. He was responsible for the youth activities, and occasionally

Andrew – Chin State  49 preached during the Youth Service, although this posed some difficulties for him since the congregation used Burmese and Chin, and he had only learnt how to preach in English. He felt like he was fulfilling an important role, although he was earning very little money during this time. His role in the church was unpaid, and he relied on pocket money given to him by his uncle, a local businessman. In return, he helped out in his uncle’s business, where having an English speaker on hand could be useful from time to time. He fled to Malaysia seven years ago, when he was 20 years old. He is not the first person in his family to have become a refugee; he has an older sister who left many years earlier with her husband, and is now settled in the USA. Andrew explained why he had to leave: I had an incident with soldiers during that time. It was so unfortunate. They were recruiting for forced labour, and I didn’t want to go. During that time, my Mum was the only one I cared about, and she was sick. Since I am the only son, she didn’t want me to go. So I refused to go, but instead I was slapped and hit with a gun. So I was forced to go. I don’t know exactly the place where I went for the labour, but it was nine or ten miles from my house. I don’t know exactly where because I didn’t go outside to meet other people. And I went. Actually, my Mum was suffering from diarrhoea and fever and she was so pale; you could see her face. So I didn’t want to leave her, but there was no choice. I have to go. Then, I went and I had to sleep there. And the next day, in the evening, one of my younger sister’s friends came to inform me, your mum is so serious and you have to do something. So I actually escaped from that forced labour. It was so unfortunate. So I went home, and I saw my mum. I didn’t know what to do. I was so shocked. What I did was I carried her to the clinic. The closest clinic is about fifteen or twenty minutes’ walk from my home. At the clinic, his mother’s condition was stabilized, and they were given medication to stop the diarrhoea. She began to recover, but Andrew’s problems were just beginning. He was worried that the soldiers would come looking for him. ‘They know where to find us, and they know where to look for our chief of the village.’ After talking with his uncle, Andrew decided that it would be safest to leave the country. He fled with his mother and sister, leaving behind a younger sister whom his uncle promised to adopt. His uncle helped them to find agents who could take them to Malaysia. A ­ ndrew did not say much about his journey here, but he was grateful to the agents for the support they had given when they first arrived. It was the agents who first told them about the existence of the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), who took them a small community north of Kuala Lumpur (KL) where there were other members of their community, and who – in Andrew’s words – gave them their ‘only chance’ to get out. Although agents are sometimes portrayed as mercenaries praying on vulnerable asylum seekers, in Andrew’s account they had been far more helpful than the UNHCR in enabling his family

50  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey to escape persecution. For the first couple of years, Andrew, his mother and his sister stayed outside KL. He found a job as a dishwasher in a local restaurant. It was only when they moved to the capital city that they registered with the ­U NHCR, by which time they had found their feet in their new country. Once in KL, Andrew took on a succession of jobs. At first, he worked as a sales promoter. The job required fluent English, and he was able to earn a reasonable living of 1,200 MYR per month, just over the legal minimum wage, until the family had to move house. Andrew requested a day’s leave, but the boss refused, so he resigned instead. After that, he worked as an electrician, despite not having any training. Once again, his English was indispensable. Malaysia has three main ethnic groups among its citizens – Malays (who speak Malay), Indians (who often speak Tamil) and Chinese (who often speak Mandarin or Cantonese). Although the national language is Malay, English is often used as the medium of communication. In his latest job, there were two owners of the business, one Indian and one ­Chinese, whilst the foreman was Malay. Andrew became the person who could help the Malay-speaking workers to communicate with the boss, whilst, in turn, they trained him in basic electrical safety. Andrew observed, I was not good. I did not know what is an electrician. The first time working there, the only thing I could do was to talk to the boss. Illegal workers are typically expected to do the jobs that citizens don’t want to perform – often, this means not only low-paid work, but also work that fits the 3D’s – being dirty, dark and dangerous. In Andrew’s case, his work as an electrician was all three of these. He was employed on the renovation of a major building, fixing electrics up on the roof. It was too hot to work up there in the tropical sun during the day, so he was on night-shifts. After four months of this, he was too exhausted to keep going and resigned again. He was phlegmatic about the experience he had gained: It was dangerous, but I can say it was a good experience; at least I know which wire to put in where now. Swallowing his pride, he returned to his previous boss, apologized and was accepted back as a sales promoter. He was glad to be working in an office again. Unfortunately, after only a few weeks, some of the stock went missing. His boss said he held him responsible for not monitoring it properly and that he would deduct the value from his salary – amounting to almost two months’ earnings. He was furious, feeling that he was being accused of theft, and had a huge argument with his employer. It ended with his resignation. For several months, the family struggled to get by. Andrew managed to get bits of part-time work, dish-washing in restaurants mainly, but never managing to earn a regular salary. He was relieved when he was eventually offered a job

Andrew – Chin State  51 as a baker. Again, this was work for which he had no training, and which was difficult, but Andrew was determined to make it a success: At the beginning, I was very down. It was so tiring. Next to the oven, burning my skin, cutting my own skin with the knife. So tiring, but, yes, it was nice; they treated me good. I got promoted, salary-wise, because my chef appreciated me in the job…Once I knew the job, I put 100% of my energy in that job. Making sure the bread didn’t get burnt. Making sure it wasn’t over-proofed. A perfect size. Perfect cutting. Making sure that all the sauce is stood by all the time. So it’s tiring, but they paid me good. I had to go to work in the morning at 4am. I had to be there sharp. If I’m late by 5 minutes, then the bread goes really – it starts proofing itself and becomes a huge size, so I cannot be late for that. He enjoyed the job, developed a sense of pride in doing it well, and felt pleased to be trusted. It was exhausting to work the long shifts – which were 12–15 hours, depending on the day of the week, but he was given responsibility for opening up in the morning, and for closing at the end of the day. He felt appreciated; although staff were not strictly allowed to take drinks from the bakery, his manager knew that he was fond of coffee and would make him lattes to get him through his shifts. Within a few months, his salary was raised by 200 MYR to 1,400 MYR. He felt that his hard work was being recognized. He said that he felt ‘lucky’ at that point in his life. At around this time, he became involved in his community, helping them to register with the UNHCR. One of the staff from his community, noticing his language skills, asked whether he wanted to join them as a volunteer interpreter. His boss was flexible and agreed that they could renegotiate his shifts so that he could take up this new part-time work. His mum was delighted, and encouraged him to take up the role so that he wasn’t wasting his language skills. Just after he started work with the UNHCR, the family received a terrible blow; his mother, whose health had not been good for some time, died. He was devastated, but was deeply touched as he remembered his colleagues’ response: During that month, my Mom passed away. I only volunteered there for three days, and during that my Mom passed away. I had leave for one month. By the grace of God, after one month I went to collect my salary for the previous month and I never expected that – I think that was the most salary I received. It was about 1700 MYR. My salary was still 1200 MYR but I received close to 1700 MYR. I was thinking why; it is too much. I thought there was something wrong with the calculation. I took the receipt and I checked and I talked to my manager. She said, just take it. It was kind of like they were helping me because they knew my situation.

52  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey In addition to this, he received further help from his colleagues. He was moved to tears as he remembered: Everyone collected a kind of donation – like 5MYR, maybe, 10MYR, how much everybody can afford – and they came together, the whole shop, the whole restaurant, they collect together. They came to my home and they said this is a donation for your Mom’s funeral. I was so happy. After his mother’s death, Andrew decided that he needed stop simply working and to think about how he could proactively change his future. His family had always believed that education was the path ‘to have a better future – because we know that we refugees cannot have a better future in Malaysia,’ but before this point he had concentrated on supporting his mother financially. Now that he was working part-time at the UNHCR, he could save up the money that he needed to enrol in college. He looked around for institutions that would take refugees and found his current college. He believes that completing this course will help him to go overseas to study further. His college is twinned with a US institution, and when he enrolled the programme leader told him that refugees can ‘easily’ go on to study for a bachelor’s course in the USA. It’s not clear how Andrew could get a visa to go overseas to study, nor have any previous refugees been able to go on to the USA through this route, but he is hoping to be the first. Andrew thought that he had been able to stay in education partly because of luck, but largely because of his family. He mainly attributed his inspiration to his mother, saying ‘Mothers are the secret weapon for their children.’ However, his uncle had also played an important role in helping them to escape the country, and taking care of his younger sister, who has now just completed her own degree in Myanmar. Back in India, one of his teachers at Bible College had told him to ‘never give up,’ and that has remained his motto ever since. His religion has also been important in keeping him going; when faced with difficulties, he turns to prayer. He explained his philosophy: When I can’t do it on my own, I pray and read the Bible; that’s how I get through. But it’s not that I’m depending on God when it comes to my necessaries. It’s not that, if it’s in my capacity to do it. When I reach my capacity, or it’s beyond my capacity, that’s how I do all those things. His optimistic outlook had also helped him: I keep myself strong until today so that I can build a better future.

5 Nyan Hongsa – Mon State

Nyan Hongsa was huddled over a hot lemon during our interview. He suffered from tuberculosis as a child, and although it has been treated, his lungs were weakened, and he suffers every time he catches a common cold. He described how such experiences had hardened his resolve to get an education: To me, I really believe in education and that education can change myself… In the whole of my family, there is no-one who has studied to high school. It’s a very hard life there. No-one can get to high school. Then I am thinking, why everyone in my life has always had a hard life is because we don’t have an education. If you don’t have an education, you don’t have a good chance to reach out to work, to get a good job, and that is why I believe in education. Education can change me; that’s why I keep studying, studying. Education can change my life. Nyan Hongsa is the third of four siblings, and comes from a small township in Mon State in Myanmar – a long, thin, largely agrarian state stretching at the southern tip of Myanmar that shares a short border with Thailand to the south. The Mon people sought self-determination when Myanmar gained independence from Britain, but this was refused, and, ever since, a succession of separatist groups have continued to resist the Burmese government. Back in Mon State, he followed the family pattern of leaving education early and only completed education to Grade 10. After leaving school, he lived and studied as a novice in a Buddhist monastery, like his father and older brother before him. Initially, he was unable to complete his education in the monastery, as his parents needed him to return home and help to earn money for the family. Later, when money was a little easier, he returned to the monastery, and eventually became a monk at the age of 20. As a monk, it was important to study – he needed to study the Mon language and Buddhist practices. He also chose to study the English language because it believed that it would be a useful skill in the future. After a year as a monk, his parents needed him to return home and earn money once more. The family maintained their commitment to their faith through his older brother, who remained at the monastery. Nyan Hongsa himself was happy to leave and contribute to the family. He didn’t feel

54  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey that he needed his education; at that point, he expected to remain in his township for the rest of his life. He had been back home for a year when the government soldiers came: My house – we are accused, we are associated with the rebel group. Actually, we did nothing, but rebel groups came to my village and they took some water from the village well. But, later on, the Burmese soldiers heard about that and they came. They said something to my parents – I was not home. And when I came home my house was destroyed. Everything…My parents were outside the house, and I asked my parents, what is happening? And my parents explained to me about what happened with the well. I tried to talk to the soldiers, but they didn’t want to talk. I was beaten. I wanted to talk to them, but I wasn’t allowed. I don’t know why they beat me. Then, at the same time that they destroyed my house and they beat me, I wanted to ask them, what is the reason? And they didn’t want to answer me, and because I asked them, I was beaten. I said nothing, and then they told me, I will come back the next day to see you. They said that, and then they left. And I was afraid that they would come back and take me somewhere, and my parents told me, just go. That’s why I left. The same day, in the evening, I left. Nyan Hongsa decided the safest thing to do would be to leave Myanmar altogether: At that time, I planned I would go to Thailand. I didn’t know where, which part of Thailand, but I had to leave. He knew of some other people from his area who planned to migrate in search of work, and they walked there together, crossing the border through the jungle to avoid any official checks. Meanwhile, with the family house completely destroyed, his parents and sisters had to move in with relatives. He was 21 years old when he left Myanmar. Once in Thailand, he turned to a monastery for support. It felt natural to him to seek refuge with people who shared his religion. He had not heard anything about refugees or refugee camps, so it didn’t occur to him to seek refuge in a camp or to register for support from the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR). Instead, he joined the many Mon people who had fled their country and were now living in a Thai monastery near the border and working part-time in local farms. At first, he, too, took part-time farm work. However, after a while he was offered work in the monastery itself, teaching the Mon language to the Mon children living there. Having got himself settled there, he resolved to continue his self-education: At the same time, I studied by myself in English…English is an international language and I believed that if I can communicate in English with somebody, then I can move on easily in the future. And then I can get a job, even if I don’t speak their language. For example, in Malaysia, I don’t

Nyan Hongsa – Mon State  55 speak the Malay language, still I speak some English, then I can communicate internationally with them. I believe that – if I speak English, then this can help me. The English language can help me to get a job and to learn something new. Having left his home with a few hours’ notice, he remained in northern ­Thailand for four years. However, in 2013, Nyan Hongsa decided to travel on to Malaysia. He explained his decision to move further from home in terms of the opportunities he believed he would have as a refugee in Malaysia: It’s because at that time I got contact from my friends here. They said that you can come here to the UNHCR, you can apply for UN protection and you can stay safe. And that was interesting to me because if I stay in ­Thailand, I stay illegally. In that area, without legal documents, you can stay there, but you cannot go out anywhere else. I got contact from the Mon community in KL; they needed people who can speak English to help the people here to translate with the UN. And I was told that in the next few months the UN will give registration to the refugees again, and then you can help the refugees to translate. With a friend, he took a bus down through Thailand to the Malaysian border. There, they paid an agent to help them cross the border on another bus; Nyan Hongsa described his fear during the journey whenever other passengers looked at him, convinced that they could see that he was an illegal immigrant. He was sure he was going to be detained by the authorities. Once they reached Kuala Lumpur, the agent sent him to the Mon community in the city. After working as a waiter for the first couple of months, his contacts in the Mon community and his skill in English enabled him to join the UNHCR as a part-time translator – everything was working out just as he had planned. For a while, his studies had to stop whilst he got himself settled in the new country, but not for long. He had already seen the benefits that could be wrought from improving his language skills, so when, at the start of 2016, he heard that the British Council was offering English classes to refugees, he enrolled immediately. It was his first opportunity to undertake formal education since 2007, and now he had far clearer goals: I studied there for six months…I want to speak fluent English. At the same time, I like to write articles…I am planning that if I have a chance from the UN, then I will move to a Western country – the US, Canada, Australia, New Zealand – any country that speaks in English. At the same time, he started to look around for other opportunities to continue studying. He didn’t really know where to start searching; he explained that, although the UNHCR has an Education Unit, many refugees don’t know how to use it. He stumbled on his current course through sheer luck. First, he has a Burmese friend in Malaysia who had arrived legally using his own passport; this

56  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey friend was able to approach the colleges officially, and then explain their systems to them. He also showed Nyan Hongsa how to research various colleges on Facebook and how to complete application forms. Second, the fact that he was working at the UNHCR gave him direct access to their Education Unit and all the information that they can provide. He let them know that he was interested in further study, and when a private college in Kuala Lumpur decided to accept refugees, the Education Unit contacted him: At that time, the Education Unit sent a message to me. You have a good chance to study here because here is cheap and [name of another college] is quite expensive…Then I printed out the forms, and what I didn’t understand, I went to the Education Unit and asked them. And they explained. Nyan Hongsa’s application was accepted, and he is currently studying for his Diploma in Business and Administration. A business course is not something that he ever particularly planned to do; his real ambition is to be a teacher. However, he is pragmatic; to date, there is no teaching course available for refugees in Malaysia, and studying Business is a practical alternative that he can follow right now: I like doing Business because I think in life business is very important to everyone. Without business, it is very hard to survive…Actually, my goal is to be a teacher. But at the moment I don’t know yet how I can get access to – to be successful in my wish to be a teacher. So at the moment I’m doing the studying that I can do by myself. On Nyan Hongsa’s course, there are a handful of other refugees from Somalia and Myanmar, but most of the students are Malaysians and international students. Nevertheless, unlike some of the other refugees featured in this book, he is happy to tell his fellow students that he is a refugee, saying ‘I am open. To me, everyone is the same.’ He hasn’t encountered any discrimination or prejudice as a result of this honesty, but he has found that many of them do not know what being a refugee means, and he has to explain it to them. He continues to work as an interpreter for the UNHCR. He pays for his studies using his current income from the UNHCR and his savings accumulated over the last two years. It’s difficult to juggle, but he appreciates that this job makes it far easier for him to study than many other refugees: Actually, why I’m studying here in this college is that I’m considered as a part-timer in the UNHCR. I study now two days a week – because this semester is a short semester…It’s very difficult for me to manage my time because of study and working – because I have to split my life here. Looking ahead to the future, Nyan Hongsa’s first hope is that he will be resettled in an English-speaking country. Although there is talk of his country

Nyan Hongsa – Mon State  57 opening up and becoming more democratic, he is not going to take the chance of returning home right now. However, in the more distant future he would like to return to Myanmar: I would like to. I miss my home too. But now I wouldn’t be safe if I went back, even if the government has changed and whatever they are saying it is – I don’t know. But I don’t believe. While he is waiting for the political situation to improve, he is trying to ensure that he is gaining the skills that his community will need. His hope is that he can contribute to building his country in the future by using his experiences overseas: My dream is that – actually, I want to be a teacher. But I want to receive an education in, let’s say, the US or some other country. Then I dream – just dream – maybe some day I will have a good chance to go back to my home town and to teach people. I want to help people with my background. However, he doesn’t want to wallow in distant dreams. His priority is to act on his ambitions. He explained, I’m not a graduate from my country. So since I’ve joined the UN I’ve tried to study more – to get more education for my life. And then I can go further in the future. He has very concrete goals, and is taking steps to achieve them: What I know now is that I want to study, just study, to get a degree. Although he had left education without completing high school and was now fluent in English and studying for a Diploma, he was modest about his achievements: You ask me about how a refugee can get education, but actually I don’t have much experience. Because I’m also not successful. I’m not successful yet. But I want to get a way to have opportunity. Nyan Hongsa talked about the struggles that faced young refugees like himself seeking an education. First, he saw finance as the biggest barrier most refugees faced to accessing education: From my experience, the majority face financial problems, actually. Because of the work situation here – as you know, we are illegal. We are not allowed to work, actually, as a refugee, and so there is a poor salary…And with that amount of money, it’s not enough to study, actually. And so those who

58  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey really want to study, they have to save and spend quite a long time to actually get the study. He called for sponsors and scholarship to help refugees to overcome this barrier, but his primary plea was that they be given the chance to be self-reliant. He didn’t want to rely on charity; he would prefer that refugees like himself be given the chance to work legally and earn their own educational fees: Allow them to work legally; give refugees permission to work. As you know, in Malaysia we are treated differently; there is discrimination against refugees. It happens with so many things, especially the authorities. Like when they meet a refugee, when they know that we are a refugee, they approach the refugee and then they ask for money; it’s quite expensive, 2000MYR or something. A few times I was stopped by the police. One time I was in KL Central – inside the new central shopping mall, at the escalator on level 3 – and I was stopped. I was threatened that I would be put in a police van to send to a detention camp. And I said, I am a student; don’t arrest me… Even though I showed the UN identity and the student card, they didn’t care. They didn’t even look to see what is that. I gave them for one person two cards already, and they didn’t care. Then finally when they attempted to bring me to the police trap, I said loudly, ‘I am a student. Tomorrow I have a class. Don’t arrest me.’ And then they checked, ‘Where is your student card?’ ‘There it is, in your hand; I gave it to you already.’ And they didn’t say anything to that. They let me go. This is quite often, this sort of thing. And that time I was very sure that if I didn’t have that card, that student ID, surely I would have been arrested. Second, Nyan Hongsa identified a lack of knowledge among young refugees about how to access education as another challenge: My experience in the UNHCR office is that some refugees want to study but they don’t know what to do as the first step. They don’t know what to do, like where they can go and who they can ask, for example. And then when they hear that I am studying, they come to ask me, how do you get on this course? And then I explain to everyone. Third, Nyan Hongsa was concerned that reflecting on the gap between dreams and reality caused many young refugees to give up trying. He took a completely different approach, by focussing on the present and not allowing his dreams to distract him from taking one step at a time. He maintained his dream of being a teacher, but he was focussed on the education that was available to him instead of that which was not: I want to give a message to [other young refugees] – just don’t think too much. If you want to get an education, then start studying. Keep studying

Nyan Hongsa – Mon State  59 whatever, wherever you are. At least if you don’t get a chance to go to class or college or university, keep a book with you and read a book. A book is never far from me, and I would study what I can. Just have a goal as to what you want to do. And then some people, if they know what you want to do, they will show you the way. And don’t give up easily. If you really want to study, keep your time to study and whatever you have. For example, some of my friends told me that they want to study too, but they want to go to a good university or college and now they don’t have a chance. Legally, we don’t have opportunities to study here, according to Malaysian law. To me, I don’t feel like that. To me, if I like, I can do it now. If you want to study, just study English and improve your English. When the time comes, when you get a chance to study in college or university in the US, and you have ability, then you are ready.

6 Matthew – Chin State

Matthew left school when he fled Myanmar alone at the age of 13. Once in ­Malaysia, he started work as a dishwasher in a restaurant, but by the time he was 14, he had worked his way up to a job in a casino, working 12 hours a day, with one day off per month. He earned just under 800 MYR per month. He stayed with his aunt and uncle, who had arrived in Kuala Lumpur (KL) before him: My aunty said – and this is the mentality of the Burmese – that it’s not really important to go to school. Just work and support your family; that’s all that matters. That is what she told me. And of course this is what I wanted to do, because my family was in trouble back home. My dad is not healthy; he had a stroke when I was about twelve, so he was not able to support me. Normally, the younger son would stay with the family, and the eldest one would go, but for me the fact that I’m a challenge-taker meant that I left my family and came here. Ten years later, Matthew is a science undergraduate, living on a university campus in Malaysia. He explained why he was pursuing his degree: I grew up under a very highly militarised government and we need a lot more people who are educated enough to change the country. Government school never gave us the chance to better ourselves. Also, after you have graduated from a government school, you don’t really have good opportunities in life. Coming from a poorer country and a poor family as well, I want the chance to support my family, and I want to look after my country as much as I can at the same time. Matthew’s story focussed on how he got from his starting point in Malaysia to where he is today. However, he did say a little about his childhood. Matthew was born in Myanmar, the second of four siblings. He is of Chin ethnicity, which is the second-largest ethnic group among refugees in Malaysia. Chin State is a largely rural state in the West of Myanmar, where most families live on smallholdings with a few animals. Matthew explained that the Chin

Matthew – Chin State  61 people are made up of many tribes speaking varied languages, and with differing cultures and histories. Matthew’s parents both came from different tribes and spoke what he described as ‘different types of Chin’ at home. Similarly, his uncle and aunt both came from different tribes. His family are therefore very ethnically diverse although they are all Christians, which is the majority religion in Chin State. The dominant religion across the rest of Myanmar is Buddhism. His family moved around a lot during his childhood, sometimes living in Chin State and sometimes in Yangon. His father speaks English, but Matthew’s generation is the first in his family to go to university; his sister has graduated from university in Myanmar, but has found it difficult to find work, but his brothers did not complete high school. His siblings remain in Myanmar; he was the most adventurous and outgoing of them, and he explained that: I grew up always wanting to do something better, and always wanting to take challenges. Matthew didn’t want to discuss the details of why and how he left his country; as he plans to return to Myanmar, he didn’t want to divulge anything that could cause problems for him in the future. Matthew described the Chin people as being ‘bullied’ by the military; he explained how his relatives could be used as forced labourers; anyone who refused to cooperate could be beaten up or arrested. In Yangon, Matthew participated in a rally against the military. Matthew did not expand on the details of what happened, but he summarized his situation simply: ‘The military government was ruling, and things happened, and I had to leave.’ He was 13 years old. The move to Malaysia marked the end of his schooling and the beginning of his working life. His first responsibility was to earn money to send back to his family in Yangon. Yet, as he didn’t speak either English or Malay, his opportunities were limited. He was able to find one job after another by word of mouth among the Myanmar community in KL. Although the civil strife back home means that the international image of Myanmar is of one ethnic group pitted against another, Matthew’s experience in Malaysia has been of diverse Burmese ethnicities helping one another to survive in their new country. Along the way, he found himself picking up little bits of language – Malay, Chinese and English – which enabled him to work his way up slowly to better positions. He started off washing dishes. His first break was when the restaurant manager asked him to do to fill in as a waiter. A few months later, at the age of only 14, he was able to get a further increase in his salary, when he got the job at the casino and its attached pool hall. There, he only had one 30-minute break during his 12 hour shifts. After a few months, he returned to restaurant work, this time managing a mamak stall (a roadside food stall), where he had more autonomy and independence. Then, he was forced back to restaurant work when the stall closed for lack of business. The pattern continued – a few months here, a few months there, each time changing jobs for a few extra ringgits or because

62  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey the last job had ended. He was continually searching for better opportunities and a way to break out of this hand-to-mouth kind of life. Matthew wanted more. In 2011, at the age of 16, he was given an opportunity through his church to spend six months attending a Bible College in KL. For the first time in nearly four years, he was able to return to education, and he was also able to start working on his English in a formal setting. That was a turning point for me. I got the chance to start studying, and even though it’s a Bible College, still, it’s in English. I had a chance to listen to pastors from all over the world, mostly from the US and the UK. They come to Malaysia, and give sermons in English. That’s how I improved my English and my listening skills; mostly, they just talked for the whole day and I had to take notes. Matthew saw the completion of that course as an opportunity to change his life. He explained: I believed I had improved myself after six months, and I didn’t want to work in a restaurant anymore. So I chose to work at a refugee learning centre. My aunty was not happy about it, because working there I was not going to get paid much. But I still joined, and I started working as a teacher after I graduated from that Bible College. My aunty and my uncle didn’t like it because I didn’t get paid. Also, my cousin who was settled in the US as a refugee called me and scolded me – ‘Why did you do that? Your parents are not in good health and they need someone to take care of them and send money. And the way that you choose to start working at a refugee school with no pay, how dare you? You need to take care of your family.’ Yeah, a lot of negative thoughts and comments. Matthew was determined, however, and decided to go ahead with his plan to teach, but somehow combine it with earning money to contribute to the family. The learning centre was an hour’s commute away, so each morning he left his aunt’s house at 8 am, arrived at the refugee school at 9 am and worked there until the end of the afternoon, enabling him to arrive home at 5 pm; his evenings were spent working in a local restaurant until 1 am. Some afternoons, the police would stop his bus, and when he was unable to produce Malaysian ID, they would take him off it, threaten him with detention as an illegal immigrant and demand a bribe. After paying, he would end up walking home the rest of the way, under the tropical sun: At that point, I don’t know what got into me. I just had the power, I don’t know. So I did that, and sometimes I think back, and I don’t know how I did it. One month into this new challenge, the head teacher of the learning centre resigned, and Matthew became the principal himself at the age of 17. Looking

Matthew – Chin State  63 back, he was critical of his performance in this new role as he struggled to lead the community at such a young age: I did not do well, to be honest; I was whining, actually. You can imagine that – at seventeen, you have to lead the school. I was whining. But I had a lot of support from volunteers and the UNHCR education officers. Bless them! He had many responsibilities as principal. First, the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) rented the windowless shop lot used by the school, and he had to report back to them. He had to oversee the other teachers and volunteers. In addition, he usually had to teach more than one class at a time, because there were always too many children and insufficient teachers. It is hard to see how anyone could have juggled that set of responsibilities well, let alone a 17-year-old. However, working at the learning centre gave Matthew his second lucky break. One of his fellow teachers was a British woman who volunteered in the school one day a week and spent her lunch breaks chatting to him and taking an interest in his life. This woman and her husband became Matthew’s close friends; he describes them as becoming his ‘guardians’ and said that they transformed his life. The Chin community church that was supporting the school ran out of money, and it became clear that the learning centre would need to close. It was at this time that his guardian offered to help Matthew to go to college; she had found a college that would accept refugee students for pre-university studies: It was her idea. She came up to me and said, hey Matthew, there is someone who is willing to help you with your studies, and who is willing to pay for you. Anonymous. I didn’t know who, but she said ‘someone’. Someone will donate money so you might be able to get higher education. She asked me to consider me, and then she gave me information about A levels and so on. And of course I always wanted to have a higher education, so when the opportunity came I grabbed it. And with the fact that the school was shutting down at the same time, it felt like everything came with the right timing. So that is how I got the chance. Returning to education was challenging. Matthew’s English was still weak, especially when it came to using English for academic purposes. For example, he had never studied mathematics in English before, so the terminology used was completely new. He could follow the steps of solving the equations, but his underlying understanding was poor. He felt very lucky to be studying at university but added: Being a refugee student is never easy. He felt that as a refugee he was treated differently from the other students. For example, his name never appeared on the attendance list, and he couldn’t access

64  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey the university notes, as the university sought to keep his attendance hidden from official eyes. Other students noticed, and began to question him about why things were different for him. In particular, some friends noticed that other students from Myanmar did not get categorized in the same way, and he confided in them that he was a refugee. After that, Matthew felt, they no longer viewed him in the same way. He started to feel uncomfortable: I question myself, whether I am worthy enough to be here. Why am I not getting what they are getting? But I understand that I am not like others at the same time, because I have the different status. But even though I understand the facts, and I know the difference, still it hurts my feelings when I get treated differently. There are a few people who knew my identity when I was in my college, and I got treated differently, and it really hurt my feelings. He felt that he should be able to brush off others’ reactions but simply wasn’t able to do so: When I had to encounter those sorts of situation, it really broke my heart. Some people might say, grow up, it’s not a big deal. Still, you know, when you have had to go through that, right in front of people, many times, it’s sad. Despite these problems, he managed to successfully complete his foundation studies. He then applied to another university that was willing to admit refugees to undergraduate programmes and applied to that in order to continue his education. He was successfully admitted, again with the support of his guardians and their British family friends who offered to give him a monthly stipend. In his current university, he felt that he was getting a far more similar experience to other students, although there were still some hitches and differences. As a result of his previous difficulties, he decided to hide his identity as a refugee. He was very conscious that he would be with his course-mates for several years as they progressed through their studies together, and he didn’t want to face any unnecessary questions, or negative reaction, from them: I have not told anyone – anyone at all – because I don’t like the sense of being different. I want to be the same as others. Not that I’m ashamed of any status whatsoever, but I don’t want to create a standard, or kind of like a letter in their mentality, that I’m lower than them. Having said that, he knew that his close friends had a sense that he was­ different – for example, if they made plans to travel to East Malaysia or overseas as a group, Matthew always had to find an excuse to drop out. Similarly, if they went out in KL, they noticed that he didn’t have an identity card like them.

Matthew – Chin State  65 Looking ahead to the end of his current course, Matthew’s aim is to return to Myanmar. Looking at the current resettlement rates and the experiences of others from his community, it doesn’t feel realistic to believe that the UNHCR will resettle him in another country; besides, that would mean renouncing his ­Burmese citizenship and Matthew isn’t ready to do that. Rather, with M ­ yanmar’s current political situation slowly improving, he is optimistic that it will eventually be safe to return. Moreover, he feels an obligation to go home. He believes that he is responsible for pulling his family out of poverty and that nobody else will be able to do this: It’s going to take a long time to recover this family, and to bring every family member up a little bit higher. So I want to graduate, go back to my family and start working to support my family. Matthew believes that there will be a place for former refugees like himself in a new, inclusive and democratic Myanmar. He knows it won’t be easy to repatriate himself, and that the political situation still requires substantial change, but for now he is focussing on the possibilities and on the positive: I am very grateful for everything I have right now. Without support from other people, I would not have got here. It’s not just my hard work; it’s their hard work as well. We worked together to put me where I am today. I am very grateful for the helping hands that people have given me. Matthew wanted to stress that his story was not one of unadulterated success. At some points, he felt that he had failed or disappointed those who helped him – for example, behaving like a normal rebellious teenager going out on the town, or failing an academic module. For another teenager, this might be seen as part of growing up. However, he had found it hard to forgive himself for his ‘failures’ because he was conscious that so many people had put their time, money and faith in him, and in some sense he had therefore become a representative of his people. He would find himself spiralling into guilt and depression whenever he was less than perfect – if his grades dipped or if he felt his behaviour had ever fallen short of ideal. He described his struggle to accept that no one can always be a perfect role model for their community and that the help he was given wasn’t conditional on his being flawless. He was very grateful that his guardians had continued to support him, even though he felt that he sometimes let them down. He wanted other refugees to know that you don’t have to be a perfect success to be deserving of a chance in life. He wanted people who were thinking of helping refugees to understand that they were only human, and that they would need patience and support like anyone else. Treating a refugee as a human means accepting they will be as flawed as anyone else: Don’t give up just because they fail you sometimes.

66  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey He was aware of the mental challenges faced by many refugees and asylum seekers like himself: Depression is real, but don’t give up. Don’t be ashamed to have gone through the darkest hour. And don’t be afraid to share it with others. You’re human; you’re not a robot. You will have gone through many types of situations, and at some point you’ll not even want to go on. Matthew explained how he had got himself through such dark periods: Time heals me. I also forgive myself. And I started to live for others.

7 Omran – Syria

Omran is in Malaysia with his mother, his younger sister, his older sister and her daughter. He feels lucky to have his family with him – they were lucky to get out of Syria alive – but as a full-time student it is tough to have a family to support. As the only male, he feels responsible for the family, and in practice he is the only possible breadwinner. His mother was an engineer in Syria, but her age and diabetes make it hard for her to work here. His older sister must care for her disabled daughter. His younger sister is still at school. So, Omran has to earn enough to support five people – and at the same time try to complete his studies. It is a lot for a young man in his mid-twenties to achieve. The Syrian Civil War began in 2011 with a series of protests, at the same time as other Arab Spring revolutions were occurring across the region. At first, life for Omran and his family continued much as normal, although his mother endured several sniper attacks on the bus taking her to work and his sister was threatened for refusing to join a politically motivated strike. By 2013, he was in the last semester of his four-year degree at Damascus University. The family had lived with war for three years, and were used to negotiating the dangers as they tried to go about their lives. However, as one near miss followed another, they became increasingly worried. Two incidents made life in Damascus feel unbearably dangerous. On the first occasion, his sister was shopping in the city centre with her infant daughter when the busy street came under fire from snipers. All the civilians in the area fled in terror. Some tried to hide: others threw themselves to the ground. Omran’s sister tried to shield her baby from the bullets, but was knocked over in the crush. Tragically, two weeks later, the family noticed that the baby’s eye was starting to turn outwards; slowly, over the days that followed, the distortion became more and more pronounced. At the hospital, the doctors explained what had happened; in the chaos, the baby had received a skull fracture and the resultant brain damage had pushed fluid against the little girl’s eye. Since then, Omran’s young niece has had six operations as the family try to save her sight, the most recent one only the week before I interviewed him. The pain experienced by this little girl felt unendurable: Every time I see her, I feel like my knees cannot hold me.

68  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey Omran explained that all of the hardships he has experienced as a refugee feel like nothing when he remembers that he is working to help this tiny child. Second, Omran himself got caught up in the trouble. There were protests at the university, and when Omran helped take an injured girl to hospital, he was arrested by government intelligence agents. The arrest may have saved his life. He was interrogated and then sent home, after being warned not to come back to the university. The following day, his university was hit by a mortar shell that killed at least ten students. Like many other students, Omran decided that day that enough was enough. They had to flee if they wanted to live. Even once they had decided to leave, it was almost impossible actually to get out. On the day that he was released from detention, the suburb where they lived was heavily bombed. They escaped to stay with relatives in another suburb of Damascus, but the bombing followed them there. They moved again to stay with other relatives, but increasingly it felt like no part of the city was safe. Many people they knew were killed; he talked about other young people he knew who had died during a raid on his neighbourhood. Sometimes, the bombing raids lasted for up to 24 hours; he described seeing every kind of ammunition and missile whistle through the sky as they endured each raid. At last, during a lull in the fighting, the family grabbed their chance to drive out of Damascus and cross the border to Lebanon. From there, they flew to ­ Malaysia on tourist visas – and registered as refugees as soon as they arrived. We don’t want to join the fight. We want to live peacefully. So, like the others, we went out. Before the Civil War, life in Syria for many like Omran had been comfortable. The country was prosperous. His mother was a successful engineer. He attended Damascus University, the oldest and most highly ranked university in the country. By contrast, the family arrived with 4,000 MYR. They had lost their life savings when they fled their country, and after they had paid the deposit and rent for their accommodation, they were left with less than 1,000 MYR. Omran knew he had to do anything he could to make money, and do it fast; he quickly circulated his CV to everyone he could. However, nobody was willing to employ a Syrian in the country on a temporary visa, and initially he was only able to gain a few days of temporary work here and there. With his tourist visa about to expire, he heard of a fellow Syrian who was an established businessman in Kuala Lumpur and approached him for work. This time, he wasn’t simply turned away empty-handed; he was given a food basket. Omran felt humiliated: He gave me a food basket. Believe me, the first time I took a food basket, I was like, is that me? Am I really taking a food basket? While I was living in my country, I was a university student and my mum was working, and we didn’t need anyone. Now I am taking a food basket. I took it because I needed it. I thought, what should I do?

Omran – Syria  69 The food didn’t last long, and Omran didn’t know where to turn next. After some thought, he returned to the Syrian businessman again, but this time he knew what he wanted to say: I told him, I need a job. I don’t want a food basket, I don’t need anything. Don’t give me a fish; teach me how to fish. The gambit worked; he was offered a job. For the next nine months, he worked as anything and everything within the company; he was a secretary, online publisher, translator and designer. After that, he felt confident that he had the skills that he needed to survive on his own. At the end of this period, Omran had accepted that as long as he remained in Malaysia he would always be an outsider. However hard he worked, he would only get the jobs that weren’t wanted by Malaysians. His family would always be treated as lesser in some way. He recounted lots of encounters with low-level racism; for example, when he asked his younger sister’s teacher at the Arabian School about their syllabus, he was told that Syrians were lucky to be accepted into the school at all. As a result, he decided that he needed to find a way to support his community to better themselves, and simultaneously find a way out for himself – and that the way to achieve both was education. Next door to his house was a refugee learning centre for Syrian refugees – they are not permitted to attend government schools, so they typically leave education altogether or are schooled in these improvised centres, funded by the refugee community themselves or by sympathetic Non-Governmental Organisations (NGOs). He decided to give them his CV, in order to see if his skills could be of help to them. The NGO running the centre called him immediately and at the age of 24, Omran became the head teacher. He loved the job. He felt that he could make a huge difference to these children. He began by working as hard as he could to win the respect of the teachers. At the same time, he started working with other Syrian community leaders to develop initiatives that would enable Syrian refugees to sell handicrafts and food, and to open further learning centres. Omran became someone who was helping to distribute food baskets to other, newer refugees. Through these schemes, he rose to prominence in the Syrian community. He met a businessman who agreed to sponsor him for one semester of study at a private university – his first real path back into education in three years. Using this experience as his stepping-stone, he continued his work in the Syrian community and eventually found a university which was willing to waive his fees for the rest of his studies. Finishing his degree looked possible at last. Studying remains Omran’s first priority after his family: I’m thinking big for my future…I know after this time when I have finished my studies, this certificate and my experience will give me an opportunity of a good life. All that I want is for my mum to be happy. I really want her

70  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey to not worry; she worries all the time here. But I’m trying my best to let her be happy. Omran is currently studying full-time for his degree in Information Technology (IT) whilst working in every spare moment and every semester break. He is lucky to have skills in IT; he has discovered that it is easier to be hired in the online world than when someone meets him face-to-face and sees that he is a Syrian. At any one time, he has several consultancy projects on the go – ranging from translation and freelance photography to design and online publishing. Each project earns him less than 100 MYR, but together they are the only way he can support his studies and his family. He laughs about the range of skills he has developed with his endless resourcefulness; if Omran discovers that a skill is in demand, he quickly teaches himself that skill even as he is sealing the deal. He says that he is forced to be creative: I am using every single skill I have just to survive. If someone hears that I have all these skills, they might think, oh he is rich. No, actually, the job is paid very low and Malaysia is getting more and more expensive…And my mother and my niece have medical situations which are costing a lot. Without the help of some NGOs – Non-Governmental Organisations – we couldn’t take care of them. Despite these problems, Omran is glad to be in Malaysia: Anyway, even with all of these problems, it is still better than my own country. In Syria, they have no food, no water, no electricity…So I always thank God about the opportunity to be here, even though it’s not my country and they will never treat me like a Malaysian. He has tried to think in practical terms about how to gain work after his degree, and his current plan is to set up an online company offering freelance services. He doesn’t think he will ever return to Syria, saying simply, ‘I’ve deleted Syria from my mind’; his hope is that the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) will resettle the family elsewhere. His aim is to find a new country where he can build a home, and belong, taking up the new citizenship as soon as possible: Our dream here is just to find a home. We want to be treated like normal human beings. We are always treated like refugees. There are a lot of people who care about us, but also at the same time you feel like you cannot control your life. This is the most painful thing. You will always feel like you are different from them. They are always treating you as a foreigner. As long as he remains Syrian, he fears he will be discriminated against when he applies for work: ‘Being a Syrian is really harmful now. It’s sad.’ Even after the

Omran – Syria  71 war is over, he believes that revenge attacks will never cease. He explained how ordinary neighbourhoods in Aleppo have become militarized, with even children taking up weapons: There is a group of people; they have religion and thoughts. And we are a group also, and we have our own thoughts. They want to kill us until the last one of us, and we want to kill them until the last one of them. But you cannot remove a whole nation from this world. Hitler tried and he couldn’t remove the Jews. You cannot; simply you cannot. Not only does he think that such violence is pointless, but he also believes that it is un-Islamic: Islam wants us to be peaceful and wants us to be developed, while we are thinking about fighting each other. He is frustrated by the way that Syria has been used as pawn by the international community, arguing: Every country wants a bit of the cake. What is happening now is not for Syrians. It is outside our control. The week before our interview, President Trump had signed an executive order preventing Syrians from travelling to the USA. To my surprise, Omran felt no particular outrage about this decision. To him, President Trump was simply declaring overtly the policy that the USA had been following for decades: ‘At least he is not lying. He is saying it to our face.’ By contrast, he saw Clinton and Obama as ‘snakes in the grass’ who proclaimed equality whilst covertly endorsing the bombing of his country. Although his family is hoping for resettlement, they know that it may never happen. Omran pointed out that the UNHCR in Malaysia often take years to give people appointments even to approve their refugee status, and that getting resettled can take up to a decade. During that time, life is on hold; you cannot open a business, find a job or study at university. It can be hard to find reasonable education for child refugees – he explained that his younger sister had started at a new Syrian learning centre a term ago, and already the learning centre had closed because the teachers hadn’t paid, so she would have to find somewhere else to study. He feels like his life is trickling away, and that he is ‘trapped’ without any chance to improve the family’s situation. He tried to describe how humiliating he found the way that refugees are treated: We arrived in Malaysia on Monday, and we came to register with the UNHCR on Wednesday; Wednesday is the only day when they let you register. When I came to the UNHCR, I saw it like a cage. There is a lot of security, and we are standing in a queue outside exactly like sheep. I said to my

72  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey mother, I would rather go back to Syria than stay here. She told me to be patient, but it was really hard. I remember those days as the hardest of my life. Then the situation inside the UNHCR – come queue here, queue there. They don’t mean to be rude, especially the security – I know them all – but they are forced. Then, inside, I thought, oh my God, we are like animals in a cage. We spent the whole day there, and at the end they gave us a small blue piece of paper, and our next appointment was two years from that time…We took it outside, and I wanted to smash it, actually, I was so angry that time. But my mum told me, keep it; she took it from me to keep it. We are forced to be refugees. We hate what we are doing. We are spending years doing nothing, almost. I came here to Malaysia and I tried to improve myself, but I faced many blocks, many closed doors. Always, our nationality, our situation, is affecting our chances of getting anything. Omran’s religion has helped him to keep positive throughout his struggle, saying, ‘I believe in God, and I believe what he will write for us, and I have hope.’ He is also furious about the way that others have twisted the true message of Islam: First of all, refugees are not terrorists. If we really were terrorists, we would stay in Syria and fight. We are outside because we want our dignity and we want a life. That’s it. Who is fighting you and bombing you is ISIS by themselves. We are like your kids, your brothers, your sisters. We are human beings. We are not foreigners, we are not immigrants, we are not refugees. We are exactly like you. To be a good Muslim, you have to be good to everyone, peace, you have to help everyone. If someone is stealing and says he is a Muslim, he is not a Muslim. If someone is killing and says he is a Muslim, he is not a Muslim. Because Islam asks you not to steal and not to kill. Omran believes that a new refugee has to learn to be self-reliant and to focus on the positive; he offered advice to anyone just arriving in Malaysia: Don’t give up hope ever. Be patient. You will face a lot of hard days and a lot of rejection. You will face a lot of racist people. But as long as you are alive, it’s fine…Believe me, there are lots of refugees who succeed in their lives, so take any chance you have, and be creative.

Postscript Since this interview was completed, Omran’s family has been resettled in a third country. For the second time in his life, he had to leave a degree programme in his final year of study. He remains committed to finally completing his degree in his new home.

8 Bethany – Pakistan

Bethany planned to finish her degree, complete a master’s and be awarded a doctorate by the age of 26. As an exceptional student with a high Grade Point Average (GPA) in a well-regarded university, she was on track to achieve her ambitions – until her family had to flee Pakistan halfway through her undergraduate degree. Instead, she has spent the last three years in Malaysia, working full-time in an office. However, she plans to apply for an undergraduate course for refugees. She has already attended a bridging course designed to prepare selected refugee students for undergraduate education. She has also completed a number of courses with the online organization Coursera, mainly focussed on communication skills. Bethany was born and educated in Pakistan, one of the Christian minority in the country. Her father was very active in the church. Both of her parents were determined that she should receive an excellent education. Her father had completed his master’s in English overseas when she was a toddler and found the language a struggle. He decided that his three children (Bethany and her two brothers) would not experience the same challenges. When they returned to Pakistan, the three children were enrolled in private, English-medium schools and received an elite education. Bethany’s mother had had to abandon her own educational dream when her own mother died whilst she was still a child. Both she and her sister (Bethany’s aunt) gave up their ambitions to earn money and thereby enable their brother to receive an education. In Pakistan in those days, the education of boys was seen as more important; without a good education, a boy would not be able to secure a good income and a good wife. Bethany’s mother felt that she had to place her own ambitions as secondary to those of her brother. However, she was determined that the same thing would not happen to her daughter. Bethany was brought up believing that girls’ education and professional role was as important as their role in the family. It had always been planned that she would get a degree: My mother couldn’t complete her education, so she always told me that you will fulfil my dream…She said, I made that sacrifice for my younger brother, but I want you to fulfil this dream.

74  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey Until she was forced to seek asylum in Malaysia, Bethany had been lucky. She had been able to get a good educational foundation: Education in Pakistan is good. The quality is good, provided that you study in private institutes. In government, the quality is not so good. But all my life I’ve studied in private institutes and all in English medium, so I think it wouldn’t be much different from education here. And then we follow the British system until our college and then when we go to universities like mine, it was run by Americans. So it was liberal arts education; it was a bit different. Her family life had felt equally good. She is the middle child, with an older brother and a younger brother – in Pakistan, she is a small family and she felt that she had received plenty of attention. Moreover, as the only girl in the extended family, she laughed that she gets pampered a lot. Her family’s problems had started eight years earlier. Bethany started to shake as she remembered what had happened. The situation was complicated, and some of the background details have been omitted in this book in order to prevent anyone from identifying her family. Essentially, a child had been brought to the church where her father preached who, unbeknownst to her father and against the wishes of its own parents, was considered under Pakistani law to be a Muslim. By preaching to this child, even with the parent’s consent, her Dad was considered to be trying to convert a Muslim. For some people in Pakistan, this meant that he deserved to die. He received death threats. Her father was advised that the only way that he could redeem the situation was to convert both himself and his family to Islam: They called my Dad. They said they will kill him if he doesn’t convert [to being Muslim] because he did this. But they said that you have a way out if you and your whole family converts. As devout Christians, this was unthinkable to the family. Instead, they went into hiding: We changed locations five or six times [over the next seven years]. We kept changing locations. They changed city. They constantly moved within each city. They believed that they had created a new life for themselves, away from the threats: So after a while we all thought that the problem was over, that they are not following us. So we were kind of relaxed. But then my father felt that thing again; somebody threatened him when he was coming back from the church and they mentioned this thing to him. And then somebody burnt the pages of the Quran and they threw them into our house. And my Dad – because he wakes up early in the morning for prayer – so he woke up and he came

Bethany – Pakistan  75 down to switch on the water pump machine. He saw the pages in the porch. He collected the pages and he told my mother. They didn’t tell us at first. So that’s how it happened. So then my Dad said, it’s not safe to live here. Her parents decided to flee to Malaysia, as her uncle was already living there and told them that the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) would give them protection here. She remembered her shock and dismay when her parents broke the news: My Dad said that we have to move out of the country. I was sick for one week because I couldn’t take it – like, I have to leave my education, I have to leave my friends, I have to leave my house, my room, everything. But I had to. I had to. So then we came here. Bethany felt that there was a chasm of misunderstanding between Malaysians and Pakistanis. Her main impression of Malaysia when she arrived was surprise that it was so similar to Pakistan: I thought that it would be strikingly different from Pakistan, but it’s not that different. But the good thing about Malaysia is that facilities are evenly divided, like you will find Tesco here in KL, you will find it in Ipoh as well. You will find it everywhere. But in Pakistan it’s like you have certain posh areas and then there are very poor areas, where people live in slums. She observed that many Malaysians had the same preconception that Malaysia and Pakistan were completely different – and believed that Pakistan was much less developed than it actually is. For example, Malaysians are often surprised by her language skills and the way that she dresses, which she finds insulting: They say, how come your English is so good when you come from Pakistan? They think that Pakistan is a very backward, very remote country. And if I’m wearing these jeans and all, they will ask me how I feel to be wearing jeans now. You’ve started wearing jeans and you don’t wear your traditional dress. I used to wear this in Pakistan as well. I used to go to my university wearing jeans. But it doesn’t mean I don’t like my traditional dress; I love it and I wear it even in Malaysia. I just have a taste for both. She felt that people treated her as if she had grown up in a remote ‘tribal’ region, and even when this was kindly meant she found it offensive. For example, she felt patronized when people at the church offered her basic food items like Milo as if they would be an exotic novelty to her, when in fact she had drunk Milo all of her life: They think that we are aliens who come from a different world, a village or even worse than a village, a tribal area where they don’t have facilities. People ask, ‘Do you have McDonald’s in Pakistan?’ Yes. ‘Do people go there

76  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey and eat?’ Obviously – that’s why they opened it there. So they have this mindset here that they are superior in so many different ways. And then they will think that they are more intelligent than Pakistani people, which is not true. I think there are intelligent people in every country, in every race. Bethany believed that her family suffered the double indignity of not just being seen as backward through being Pakistani but of being looked down upon as refugees: In Malaysia, some of the locals here kind of look down on refugees. I don’t know for what reason, but they think of us as less than them. They think less of us, and I think shouldn’t do that. They should try to understand that we are struggling, and that even though we are refugees we still have the right to education, we still have the right to medical facilities, to all the basic facilities. And also they don’t allow you to work, and I don’t understand why, because if you are living here in Malaysia you have to work and you have to earn. When the family had first arrived, they had been desperate to find work and the church they attended was helpful in finding him opportunities. However, she sensed that they were supposed to feel grateful for any opportunity, no matter how unwelcome or small. For example, one of the congregation had offered a job to her father that involved carrying large items around his shop. Bethany and her brothers worried that, as he was now in his sixties, he was just too old to be doing that kind of work. They had turned down the offer, explaining that they planned to be the wage earners rather than their father. As a result, people in the church had grumbled that he thought himself too good for the job and that he expected to sit in an air-conditioned room all day. She initially thought that she would be able to continue her university education in Malaysia straight away. Even before her family had left Pakistan, she had started to research Malaysian universities online: I found [a university], and based on my previous grades, they said that would give me 25% off. And if I show them good results, they will give me further scholarship. I felt very optimistic. But then they don’t accept refugees. Asylum seekers and refugees have not entered the country on a student visa. Back in 2013, no university was prepared to accept them. Bethany asked for a letter of support from the UNHCR, but even then the college was unable to accept her. Bethany explained how she felt: ‘Then all my hopes were shattered.’ Although there was nothing she could do to get admitted to a university at that time, Bethany was encouraged by the UNHCR’s response: We went to UNHCR, and the whole panel of the Education Department came outside. We were surprised, you know, why are they are giving us so

Bethany – Pakistan  77 much importance? And they said, no-one has ever come to us for tertiary education before. No-one. You are the first people coming to us for tertiary and normally they come to us for work or anything else, but you came for education. Bethany believed that her visit to the UNHCR precipitated a change in the organization’s education strategy. From 2013 onwards, the UNHCR approached various private universities and colleges around Malaysia to see whether they would be willing to accept refugee and asylum-seeker students, and a series of agreements was reached. She was proud that her initiative was opening doors for other refugees but wasn’t able to benefit immediately herself as her family was still in the process of seeking asylum: They would only accept students with a refugee card, but we didn’t have it at that time. So we waited for three years to get the card, and it wasted three years of our lives. That was the sad part. Bethan felt there was no way forwards with her education: I felt hopeless. There was a time when I completely lost hope, and I thought I am just stuck. I am not going to get out of this situation my whole life. And then people would come, you know, why don’t you marry a Malaysian guy and get settled? Your problems will be solved. You will get an IC [Malaysian identity card]. You can work. You can do whatever you want. But I told them, you know, my dreams are bigger than just getting married and getting settled and getting a guy. In the three years since then, she has had to force herself not to give up on her education. She sees her parents and the others around her as having been instrumental in this: I think my parents have a big role in this because they always made me dream to get education, educate myself, and marriage is a secondary thing. The primary thing is you educate yourself, you establish yourself, and then you go for marriage. So I have this mindset. And it’s meant, I think, that I clinged to hope, even though there was hopelessness. But I had my family, I had my church friends who pushed me, always telling me to keep hoping for the best and don’t just give up. So I didn’t give up. And in Pakistan, it’s the culture there, they always tell the girls that your main goal is to get married and have babies; you should know more about how to keep the household, how to do the house chores and education is not that important because your husband is going to earn for you and for your kids, so you don’t have to worry about that. But even though I lived in Pakistan and I grew up in Pakistan, I had a very different mindset.

78  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey Bethany worked in the shop to support her family throughout this time, but she was continually on the look-out for educational opportunities. Her family have also tried to open up educational opportunities for other refugees. Her elder brother noticed that there were very few learning centres that would accept Pakistani refugee children; many of the learning centres for primary education are organized on national or ethnic grounds, and whilst he had found schools for Somali and Myanmar children, there was nowhere that catered to Pakistani children. In their church, the Pakistani children ended up in a Myanmar learning centre, but as they didn’t speak Burmese they were unable to make much progress. So he made contact with an American volunteer working with refugees in Malaysia, and asked for their help with setting up a new school. Similar to many of the other students interviewed for this book, it was this chance encounter that helped Bethany to move her educational hopes forward. The American was also involved with a group of expatriates who were trying to set up a bridge courses for refugees hoping to attend higher education. She invited Bethany to attend. Bethany still plans to get her degree, master’s and PhD if she possibly can, but the future looks uncertain. Even as she completes her undergraduate application forms, she wonders whether she’ll be able to stay in Malaysia long enough to complete a degree course: Being a refugee, there is a lot of uncertainty in your life. You don’t know when you will be leaving the country, when you will get sponsored [for resettlement by another country]. So I’m really not sure. At this point, she has no hope of ever returning to Pakistan, and she has no idea as to where she might end up being resettled: I don’t know, because the policies keep changing over time, and some countries allow refugees for some time, then they put a ban on it, and so I cannot really say. However, her personal philosophy means that she is confident that somehow, somewhere she will find a way to fulfil her dreams: Keep clinging to hope. Don’t give up. There are other opportunities around and they just have to wait for the right time.

9 Amaal – Somalia

Amaal did not receive any formal education until she moved to Malaysia at the age of 16. Despite this, only four years after beginning her formal learning at an NGO-run centre in the city, she was accepted onto an arts foundation course at an international university. She didn’t know how she had managed to get to university standard in such a short time: That’s something that I still wonder sometimes. I think it’s because I was really enjoying learning that I didn’t really realise how much I was learning. I somehow believe that that was the reason. I just did what I really liked to do, and I didn’t even look back. That’s what I did; I just continued learning and I enjoyed the ride. Amaal’s family are from Somalia, but she has never lived there. Civil War has been ongoing in Somalia since 1991, when the military regime collapsed, and anarchy resulted across the country. By the time she was born, her family had already fled to Saudi Arabia, where she lived until the age of six. At that point, they were deported and, feeling that Somalia was still unsafe, the family then moved to Ethiopia, where she spent most of her childhood. Many Somalian refugees have ended up, like Amaal’s family, in the countries immediately surrounding their own. Kenya hosts Dadaab refugee camp – the biggest in the world – whilst the second-largest refugee camp is Dollo Abo in Ethiopia. The pressure on the resources is intense and their governments feel they cannot afford to let refugees into their schools. Amaal described life in Ethiopia: There, I couldn’t really have access to education for some reasons. One of them is that you couldn’t really get access to the government education if you were not born in Ethiopia, and that was a barrier. And the second fact was that we were very cultural, and in Somali culture the education for girls was not expected to be as high as the boys’ education, or they may not even have access to education at all. So there was that kind of cultural barrier when it comes to education.

80  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey Amaal’s lack of a basic education is typical of many young Somali women. According to UNICEF, Somalia has one of the lowest rates of primary school enrolment in the world, whilst the World Bank accords Somalia the dubious accolade of topping the world in having the greatest gender gap in years of schooling its young people receive. Amaal is very conscious now of these factors working against her getting an education, but this social awareness has only developed since she arrived in Kuala Lumpur (KL). Her older brother, however, helped her to acquire some basic literacy and numeracy skills. During their years in Ethiopia, he attended an English-medium school, and in his free time he enjoyed being his little sister’s teacher. He didn’t share the general belief that girls weren’t worth educating. By the time she was 16 years old, the family had started to feel unsafe in ­Ethiopia. They felt that the danger from Somalia was spreading across the region, as tensions built up between successive waves of refugees. So, the family contacted Amaal’s uncle, who was already resettled in the USA, for ideas about places where life would be safer. It was he who suggested they flee to Malaysia. It was only once she arrived in Malaysia, aged 16, that Amaal began school. She and her ten-year-old niece heard from others in the Somali community in KL that there was a learning centre that catered to their community, and were excited by the prospect of attending a real school. Her mother needed convincing; she would have preferred her daughter to be contributing to the family income. Once again, her brother was instrumental in enabling her to receive an education; he helped Amaal and her niece to persuade her mother that an education for girls was worthwhile: He was very supportive. He is one of the people who has supported us through our education journey. Starting her education at such a late age wasn’t easy. Amaal had to swallow her pride in order to become a beginner working alongside much younger students: I did have the basics, that I learned from my brother. English basics, like the alphabet and stuff like that. And I did have the basics of writing, although I wouldn’t say it was good. I did have the very basics of the reading and the writing… It was a really new experience for me. And everything was really difficult for the first two months. Being the oldest in the whole class played its role as well; the rest of my class-mates were about 10 or 11 years old. I was much, much older. She reflected on what that experience was like: At first, it didn’t motivate me much. But then I was seeing the results of the learning that I was doing, and that started motivating me better. I mean, I had awesome teachers at [name of learning centre]. They were amazing.

Amaal – Somalia  81 I mean, they all helped me despite the language barrier that I had. Because most of them spoke English, and I remember I couldn’t understand a word of what they were saying. And some of my class, they were amazing, they were able to translate for me. So everyone was really amazing and they helped me to catch up better. And I do remember failing all my classes in the first tests that I had, which wasn’t really a good thing. At that point, I was like, uh, this is really not easy. I knew it would be difficult learning, but I didn’t think it would be that difficult. And failing everything wasn’t really helping me. She decided to drop out and start working instead. But within a few months she resolved to return to school. She explained why: I’m someone who likes to learn, so staying out of school wasn’t really something that I wanted to happen. I don’t really remember – for some reason, I just decided to drop out and start working. At first, I didn’t drop out completely; I used to go to school once a week, which was on Saturday and try to catch up with everything I had, all the lessons and stuff. But it just became more difficult – attending school once a week and having missed all these classes. Cultural pressures also made it hard for her to study: No-one ever told me to leave, but there was still the question of why am I wasting my time studying when I can do other things. After she returned to the school, she wasn’t going to give up again. She persevered with her schooling, and slowly found that the struggles became fewer. It became easier for her to study once she started to experience small successes along the way: I believe that what people look for is results and outcomes, and the more my mother saw the results of me learning, the more supportive she became. At first, she wasn’t that supportive of me, but the more results I showed her, and the more I developed and the more I learned more and achieved more, the more supportive she became. And I believe that’s what people look for – the results that they see. Amaal explained why she was determined to get an education: It’s actually very simple. I just didn’t want to live up to the culture’s barrier because I didn’t think that I was any less than any other boy who was learning. Basically, what was the difference between me and a boy who was learning. There’s not any difference. And if they can learn, I believe that I can learn too. So I just didn’t want to live up to the culture’s expectations of,

82  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey ok, you’re a girl and you should stay at home, and if you’re a boy you should really study. So that’s what pushed me to study and follow my dreams. She described her NGO-run learning centre, saying that: It changed my life and turned me into the person that I am today. Because honestly before I joined [name of school], I really had no hopes or dreams much. I mean, I wanted to learn, but I didn’t know what I wanted to achieve – to what extent I wanted to learn something. But being at the school, experiencing all the things that I experienced, connecting with different people, really opened up my mind to becoming someone different and the person that I am today. And to think far ahead, rather than just thinking of the moment. She started to think about ways to pursue her education further. In 2015, she heard that a few universities and colleges in Malaysia had started to offer places to refugee students, and she wondered whether this would be a possibility for her. She sent numerous emails without receiving a single reply. She was on the point of giving up when the principal of her learning centre heard that another university was accepting applications from refugees for foundation studies. She decided to give it one last try: But, honestly speaking, I didn’t have high hopes to get into the university because I knew that there would be so many people applying for it, and there are many schools in Malaysia. So I thought there was about a one in a million chance that I would get into the university. Amaal had so little faith in her ability to win a scholarship – and had had her emails to universities ignored so many times before – that she didn’t even check for an email reply to her application. It was only when one of her friends, who had also applied, received a rejection email that Amaal bothered to log on – and even then she did so reluctantly: She forced me to check my emails, otherwise I wouldn’t have checked because I was like, uh, if you didn’t get accepted, I don’t think I’ll get accepted. When she saw her acceptance, Amaal could hardly believe it. She explained her feelings: This couldn’t get any better. It was an amazing feeling getting into university, just knowing that all of the effort that I’d been putting in for the past four years, and all the things that I’d been learning, showed up. All of my effort showed up, with the fact that I got into university into just four years. I really couldn’t believe that. A lot of people couldn’t believe it; they thought that I was joking.

Amaal – Somalia  83 Others in the learning centre could not believe it either; some other students had been at the learning centre far longer than Amaal, and the Somali community didn’t understand how she could have been accepted when they were rejected. At first, even her own mother didn’t believe that she had really been offered a university place. Amaal had become a role model for the Somali community in KL. For the first time, there was a possibility that even a Somali refugee could succeed through education. The remaining students at the learning centre started to work a lot harder because they suddenly felt like their studies had a purpose. Amaal felt there was a lesson to be learned from her success: Hard work pays off. That’s all you have to do. You just have to study better. I feel that was a motivation for the rest of the students; they felt that if they really worked hard, they could get into university now. Because before that there was no reason why anyone would study. They were studying, but there was no such thing as a higher education…There was no hope. There was just studying for the moment. This was a huge step to be taken by a Somali woman, but Amaal had to overcome further cultural barriers if she was to study. The university that had accepted her was a long way out of the city and it would be impossible to live at home during semester time. She had been offered free accommodation on campus as part of her scholarship, but in Somalian culture it is unusual for a young woman to live without the protection of a male relative. Her mother was understandably reluctant to allow Amaal to leave home: After I was accepted into the university, I had to overcome one more ­obstacle – which was my mum actually allowing me to go to a university that is far away from home. That was a long negotiation that we had… eventually, she did agree for me to go to university as long as I was coming back every weekend. Arriving on campus, Amaal thought that the university was beautiful, but empty and scary at night, compared to her part of the city that bustled with members of the Somali community. She felt a little lost, knowing nobody for the first time in her life: Then the classes kicked off, and that’s when it hit me hard. I wouldn’t say that it was easy studying at [name of university]. It’s one of the top universities in Malaysia and in the world, and the fact that I had only four years of education played a role there; I couldn’t keep up as much as the other students were keeping up…me trying so hard to catch up, and still not being able to catch up. I didn’t want to keep asking questions in class all the time because not many students and not many lecturers would like being interrupted every five minutes…So it was a struggle at first.

84  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey The university had a policy of not informing lecturers about the status of their refugee students, deeming this a matter of choice for the individual students, and she personally chose not to tell the lecturers about her background. This meant that she could be accepted as no different from any other student; for someone who had been labelled a refugee for the last four years, this was liberating. However, the consequence was that they didn’t make any allowances for her different trajectory: It got easier during the second semester, but some of the classes were still really hard on me. Especially the writing classes – because my level of writing was not as high as it was supposed to be. Amaal is not the sort of person to dwell on her difficulties. During the interview, she mentioned her struggles at university when asked directly about them, but her main focus was on the positive aspects of her studies: All in all, it was a good experience. I learnt a lot from there. I mean, before coming to university the only people I knew were people from the community, so I didn’t even know different cultures and how they behave. So meeting people from different cultures, and having room-mates from different cultures, has helped me to see things from other people’s perspective as well – not only from just the Somali community, or just one cultural perspective. It also helped me to figure out my goal even better. My goals continued changing, being in the university. When I first got there I wanted to do international relations, and then I wanted to do education, and then I had no idea. Amaal talked throughout her interview about the relationship between the education she had received and her personal identity. She felt that both university and her experiences at the learning centre had shaped her. They had opened her up to a wealth of possibilities, options that she had not considered possible before for a Somali woman refugee, and encouraged her to look at the world from multiple perspectives. Meanwhile, the military situation in Somalia continued to worsen. With the USA escalating their involvement, going back to the ‘home’ where she had never lived was not a possibility for Amaal. Staying in Malaysia, Amaal had no rights and no future. Her main hope for a stable future in the long term was resettlement to another country, but having just won the scholarship she was trusting that that wouldn’t happen at this point. Two semesters into her studies at university, she suddenly found out that she was being resettled in the USA. After five years of living in Malaysia, hoping for resettlement, the family were told their flight was leaving within three weeks. For Amaal, this was an unmissable chance to become a legal citizen with rights, but it meant that she had to leave her studies: There were mixed-up emotions, honestly speaking, because I didn’t want to leave the university just yet. And I left in the middle of submission week,

Amaal – Somalia  85 exam week – so in the middle of everything. I came so far, and then left the semester. And I was hoping to finish the entire foundation course so that it would be easier for me later, if I was to resettle. And then I was excited at the same time because what I’d been waiting for for five years finally came up. If she had been given any choice at that point, she would have liked the resettlement process to have been slowed down, just to give her enough time to finish the semester. With hindsight, she feels lucky that they got to the USA as quickly as they did. The family arrived in the country one week before Donald Trump’s executive order banning entry to people from six Muslim nations, including Somalia: We were so lucky because I know a lot of my friends, a lot of people we knew in Malaysia – their flights were already booked and they were about to leave, and then it had to get cancelled. And they are still in Malaysia at the moment because of their flights being cancelled and everything going back to square one. Amaal had been in the USA for six months when I interviewed her; for all of that time, her studies had been on hold. On arriving in the USA, her first thought was to enrol in a US university; armed with a transcript and a glowing reference from her old university in Malaysia, she started to send out applications straightaway. Unfortunately, she was informed that she could not enrol until she has secured her Green Card, a process that will usually take a year. Until then, she is working hard to get the family financially settled in the new country. Immediate educational prospects for her niece are better; as a minor, she is already enrolled in a US high school. As is usual for Amaal, she focusses on the positives and refuses to allow herself to become despondent about the interruption to her education. Despite the political climate when she arrived in the USA, she had only good things to say about her experiences and treatment by her new country, explaining: We were expecting it to be a little more difficult, but luckily it wasn’t. I mean, it’s way better than we were expecting it to be. She reflected on her move to the USA and could only see benefits for her family: It’s really awesome living here, having as much freedom as we have – compared to Malaysia, of course. She explained the main differences between life in Malaysia and life in the USA: In Malaysia, you can’t have access to certain things, such as work – you can’t work there. During the time I was there, you couldn’t get access to high-quality education. You couldn’t even have a car or anything. And here you have the freedom; you are kind of equal to all the other residents in the

86  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey US. I mean, there are certain things that you still can’t do, but other than that you are pretty much the same as everyone else. We can have access to an education. We can work. We can pretty much do whatever everyone else is doing. Amaal’s message to other young refugees is that they should hold onto a belief that education is worthwhile: Everything is hard at first but just remember that working hard, and everything that you do, will pay off later. And don’t think too much about it. Enjoy the journey; as long as you are enjoying the journey everything will be better. It’s all about enjoying and loving what you are doing, because if you don’t love it, it will be more difficult for you. Amaal feels that she has been able to keep going with her own education because she was enjoying the process of learning so much: Being a refugee is not an easy thing, and it’s not something we choose. It is something that happens to us. And education can change somebody’s life in a major way. If I was to tell the readers of this book, what is it like to be a refugee and what is it like to be a refugee in education, I would say it gives hope…because they are finally able to achieve something on their own, rather than just sitting and being helped. And it is a way that they might be able to change the world one day; it is a way that they might be able to make an impact in the world. Many world leaders, and many people who did something for the world, were refugees at some point. She is frustrated by not being able to continue her education because she is still formally designated a refugee: That status is just a label that people use that doesn’t really describe someone. It doesn’t necessarily mean that that is what the person is. It’s just a label. Education can change someone’s life. Why would we neglect changing someone’s life just because of a label? Amaal will throw off that label in the USA once she receives her green card. In the meantime, she is waiting for her chance to continue her education.

10 Nurain – Sri Lanka

On 15 April 2009, Nurain was at the start of her O-level exams. As a conscientious student, her main worries (like most 16-year-olds) were whether she had done enough revision, whether she would understand the questions and whether she would finish her essays in time. She sat her Human Biology paper that morning and then went home to relax on her bed and prepare for her next exam. She was lying there trying to clear her mind when she received a phone call telling her that her father was experiencing some difficulties. He needed to leave the country immediately, flying first to Singapore and then Malaysia. Nurain’s father had been an affluent businessman in Sri Lanka, whose main dealings were in the northern part of the country. This was an area where he had family connections but had also been the stronghold of the rebel Tamil Tigers during the Sri Lankan Civil War. With the war ending and the Tamil Tigers defeated, his northern connections rendered him suspect. As rumours of detentions by the authorities started to circulate in Colombo, the capital city, he had decided that it was safest to leave the country until things settled down. It was meant to be a temporary stop gap. Nurain was alarmed at first – enough to be able to remember the exact date that this had happened seven years later – but her parents reassured her. The rest of the family remained in Sri Lanka, and life seemed to Nurain to continue as normal. Unknown to her, however, a few days later a teacher at her brother’s school contacted her parents to inform them that someone had visited the school making inquiries for him. As luck would have it, her brother had not been at school that day, but the narrow escape left their parents petrified: When Mum got to know that they had actually gone to the extent of going to a school, that was when she stopped every one of us from going to school. And that was when my Dad was, like, well, better come to Malaysia…When she felt that our lives were at risk was when they came to my brother’s school. Nurain was aware of the worry in her family, but at that time her focus was still on sitting for her exams. Knowing that her daughter wanted to do well in her studies, her mother did her best to protect her from the stress:

88  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey Mum didn’t give a lot of stress on us because she knew that I was doing my exams. But I think that more pressure was on my brother because at a very young age he had to basically accompany my Mum to everywhere she had to go because Dad couldn’t be with her. So I think that even though I’m the oldest, because he’s the only boy in the family, he was the one who was more pressured than me. As soon as her O levels were over, Nurain was informed about the real magnitude of the situation: Everything was happening very fast. When I got to know that we were leaving was three days before the tickets were booked. So it was a complete shock to me. At that time, I was extremely young and at that time my life was friends, cousins, school. I was very unhappy; I was telling my Mum, I really cannot do this. But then, of course, I had to. She had just completed her exams. As a regular teenager, she had been looking forward to a summer relaxing after all her hard work, hanging out with friends and cousins, enjoying life in her upmarket suburb of Colombo. Instead, Nurain became a refugee. She received her O level results in Malaysia, where the family had sought asylum. Until this point in her life, Nurain’s family had lived in the capital city of ­Colombo, in a well-heeled neighbourhood. The oldest of four siblings, she attended a private international school where she was able to sit for her London O levels rather than local examinations. Nurain’s family, like most other Sri Lankans, had managed to continue life as normal throughout the bloody 26-year Civil War that lasted from 1983 until May 2009. It was as the war was ending that her family’s problems began. Whilst the majority of Sri Lankans are Buddhists and the civil war was primarily between the majority Sinhalese and the Tamil Tigers, a Hindu minority located mainly in the north of the country, Nurain’s family were Muslims – a significant minority making up about 10% of Sri Lankan society. As Muslims, they were aware of growing tensions between the Muslim minority and both of the other main religions. Back in 1990, the Tamil Tigers had forcibly expelled Muslims from their northern stronghold of Jaffna. More recently, there had been anti-Muslim riots in the southern coastal towns, resulting in deaths. By moving to Malaysia, they hoped to find safety and security in a Muslim majority nation. In reality, they found themselves struggling to make ends meet: It is only after we came to Malaysia that he had to find a way of living. And when Dad came in 2009, refugees were not allowed at that time to work. Secondly, the pay was really, really less – like 700MYR at that time. And there were seven of us for him to take care of. So paying the rent and everything was too difficult. So we started to do something from home.

Nurain – Sri Lanka  89 With four children, as well as Nurain’s grandmother to care for, her parents had to be creative. Her father decided to make and sell curry puffs – a popular Asian snack food. It was a business that he could run informally from home. In the meantime, they were determined that life should continue as normally as possible for the children. The first priority was to get a visa and register with the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR), but the next most important thing after that was their education. The assumption was that, as Nurain was still only 16, she would attend school along with the others. Nurain wanted to begin studying for A levels, as her friends would be doing back in Colombo. Unfortunately, in 2009, only one refugee learning centre in Malaysia offered any kind of secondary education, and the highest class was Form 4 (15 years olds). The work was evidently too simple for Nurain, but her mother encouraged her to attend the school anyway, just to maintain some kind of education. The family’s determination began to suffer as their money worries bit deep. After three or four months, it was decided that Nurain would have to stop school and help her Dad to make curry puffs first thing every morning; after all, she was not actually learning anything at the learning centre. For Nurain, it was a terrible blow. First, she missed the social contact that school had provided. Second, she worried that it would be the end of her education. Her mother tried to keep her positive: My Mum gave me moral support. I knew my Mum somehow would definitely get some kind of thing for me… My Mum said, keep trying. The only thing was, we didn’t know how to try, or where to try. But I knew somewhere I would do something, at least STPM [the Malaysian school leaving qualification]. It was two years later before Nurain was able to continue her studies. Her mother volunteered to be a teacher in the learning centre. The centre was run by a Malaysian NGO and through this she met a ‘Datuk’ (an honorary title conferred upon important figures in Malaysian society). He used his influence to help Nurain be accepted for a local college, despite only having refugee status, and at last she could begin work on her A/S levels. During her time at this college, Nurain told two of her friends on the course about her refugee status. Their response made her resolve to keep that aspect of her identity concealed in future: I remember saying it to two students at that time because I think I was eighteen at the time and it didn’t really strike me. And I faced how they treated me; they were basically moving out. They were not talking much. Well, not just not talking much – basically lost contact totally. We’d go to classes and we’d sit. And that’s when I decided that I’m not going to talk about it at all. Even within the UNHCR at meetings and we know how many of us are refugees, I’m not going to say anything; I’m just going to sit there. And luckily people think I’m a Malaysian because I wear a headscarf.

90  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey Nurain tried to understand why her former friends had responded to her in that way and to reflect on how the situation developed: Maybe it’s because of their particular society, of their racial group. I don’t know. Because most of them are of a particular race who came there. Maybe. Maybe it’s something that I felt. I don’t know. That’s what my Mum keeps saying; maybe it’s not them, it’s you. Despite feeling the hurt and social isolation, she did well in her A/S levels and was anxious to complete her full A levels. However, although Nurain had got a few qualifications and although the curry puff business was stable, there were no educational opportunities in Malaysia for the younger children. Her mother decided to take them to Indonesia, where she had heard there were opportunities for refugees to attend proper schools. This meant that the family needed Nurain to start earning again to pay back the migration agents who arranged the journey: According to my family at that moment, if I had my A levels, I was fine. I had my education. There was no thought of university at that moment. But [my mother] was worried about my brother. There were no O levels for him; there was nothing. And my other two sisters didn’t have an education; even though there were other learning centres, it wasn’t a formal education. And my mum being a teacher herself, she was afraid for my sisters’ education. Nurain returned to making curry puffs each morning instead of attending class. For a while, she tried to study independently, but she worried that she would fail any exam that she tried to take. As a result, she reluctantly made the decision to stop her education again. With the help of migration agents, to whom the family paid a substantial fee, Nurain’s mother and three younger siblings took an overnight boat from Malaysia to Indonesia, leaving behind Nurain, her father and her grandmother in Kuala Lumpur. From there, they planned to take another boat to Australia, where they hoped that a new life might await them. However, when the morning for the onward journey came, Nurain’s mother took a look at the ocean and became afraid. With the youngest child only two-and-a-half years old, she couldn’t imagine how she could survive if anything went wrong during the voyage. To this day, Nurain’s mother and siblings are waiting in a refugee camp in Medan, Indonesia where the only education received by the younger children is English classes and the informal support that she herself can provide. For several months, Nurain was back at home, working hard to assist her father in making curry puffs. However, she was determined to find an alternative life for herself. She returned to the NGO learning centre where her mother had worked as a teacher, and asked them for work. They knew her family, and knew that she had some education, and decided to take her on. Each morning, Nurain awoke at 4:30 am to begin work on the curry puffs, before getting herself to the

Nurain – Sri Lanka  91 learning centre for the start of the working day. Although she was very busy, Nurain commented: It wasn’t stressful until I actually took my part-time diploma. Until then, it was fine. I mean, I was happy as long as I could actually go out and talk to others out there without just being at home. So the working experience gave me a chance to socialise with people and I was happy with that. This might have been more than enough for some people, but Nurain was still waiting for a chance to continue her education. As she was teaching, she discovered that one of her colleagues was managing to study at the same time, completing her advanced diploma at a local college. She knew that Nurain was interested in study and recommended the course to her. Although it wasn’t the degree that she had dreamed of, it sounded like a move in the right direction – ‘Already I was 20 then, and I thought that if I’m going to wait any more, at least let me get a diploma. At least that’s something.’ The college offered no discount to refugees, but with the money from the curry puffs business and the teaching they could manage. Nurain was just thankful that the college didn’t worry about her visa status and that the payment system was quite flexible. At one point, she had to take a six-month break in her diploma studies while she scrabbled together the money she needed to continue, but the college didn’t seem to mind. Because of the financial and other pressures on her, that kind of flexibility was invaluable to Nurain. Throughout all of these challenges, Nurain never contemplated giving up on her education. She kept writing to the UNHCR asking them about tertiary opportunities, although at that point there were no such programmes for refugee students. She explained what kept her motivated: To me personally, quite apart from my mum’s thought – to me, I have this belief that education will actually take me to places. That is one thing I would always not want to give up on. And to me at one point I had this craze on, get a degree and you can get a job. In my working place, there was this high difference of pay scale – that’s the main reason. And, of course, the experience because the knowledge itself is of use. And then there is the way people treat a person who has a degree and a person that does not have a qualification. So I think that was the main thing that drove me to want to continue my tertiary education. Nurain’s job at the NGO learning centre turned out to be a lucky break. Had she not happened to have an ongoing connection to a refugee school, she would never have found out about the next possibility for her education. She was responsible for administering the centre’s email, most of which consisted of routine notifications sent out by the UNHCR. She forwarded them on to the right person within the centre, or deleted them. One morning, her eye was caught by a particular email. The UNHCR announced that one university in Malaysia had

92  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey agreed to offer a handful of scholarships to refugee students. Nurain decided to apply. Nurain is now in her first year as an undergraduate in a social science course. Her father and her grandmother are in Malaysia with her, whilst her Mum and her three siblings are in Indonesia. Nurain described her feelings on being in university at last: It’s actually a dream come true. I can remember there was a time when I actually wanted to get in to here to do my degree. And every time I surfed the internet, I thought my dream are not dreams. At night, I was telling my Granny, if there was a chance to get into [her current university]. It was like completely a dream at the time. I kept on praying for it. This time, she has not told any of her fellow students that she is a refugee: Personally, I feel embarrassed. Secondly, I’m afraid how, after this, they would treat me. It is not my intention to lie or cover it up. It’s just that I am afraid whether I will be accepted into this social group of friends…This is not something that I chose to become. It was something that happened, and my personality is basically reserved. And it’s something that I cannot accept at all. I really cannot. Nurain’s plans for the future are ambitious, but are limited by her position as a refugee. At the moment, she thinks she will need to seek employment after her degree, but she would like to get a master’s degree in the longer term. In the meantime, she is definite that she can never return to Sri Lanka. Following the elections in 2015, a new government came to power in Sri Lanka, but stories of detainment and killing still circulate in the Sri Lankan community in Kuala Lumpur: Basically, I have this fear of if I go to Sri Lanka, will they detain me or not? So I don’t want to take that risk again… Even though the new government comes, I keep saying that you cannot trust. Now, at this moment, at this point, trusting anyone is like, just, you cannot trust. So I don’t want to trust anyone. So she is hoping to find work either in Malaysia or in any country where she is resettled. Nurain’s family – currently still split across Malaysia and Indonesia – are hoping to be resettled together. Over a year ago, they were interviewed by the Canadian authorities with a view to resettlement there, but they have yet to hear about the outcome of that. Nurain believes that the number of Sri Lankan refugees in Malaysia is falling – and the reasons have her worried. Some have been resettled elsewhere, but many others had their refugee applications turned down after the end of the war. Of these, a few have chosen to try to stay in ­Malaysia, but others have felt forced to return to Sri Lanka. Rumours abound in

Nurain – Sri Lanka  93 the Sri Lankan refugee community about what to do to get resettlement; Nurain has heard of refugees whose applications have been turned down in Malaysia then going to Indonesia to try again there. Whilst the delay in resettlement means continued uncertainty, she is also worried that immediate resettlement could interrupt her education yet again: I would prefer as soon as I get this degree that I get my resettlement because I know that having this refugee status will actually stop my scope of getting a job in most of the corporate companies. So I would hope somewhere else after I get my degree. But now I’m fearing – at least let my resettlement be pushed up until I finish my degree…I have a mixture of feelings. One thing, of course, I would be happy to go to Canada. It’s Canada. But I think I’m afraid that if I got there and I had had to stop this degree, then I would have to go and start again. So would I be working or would I be studying? Because you don’t know how the conditions there are going to be. So it’s a mixture of feelings because if I go to Canada my siblings will have a good future there. And now they basically have nothing. In the meantime, the pain of living in exile is acute. In fact, she feels that her language and her Sri Lankan identity have become more important to her since leaving her country. She spoke about delivering a presentation to our coursemates about her country, and the responsibility she felt to do as good a job as possible. She feels homesick whenever she hears anyone mention Sri Lanka: Of course, I listen to everything about Sri Lanka…Of course, that is my country. Even though I’m a refugee, I will always consider it as my nationality. By contrast, her identity as a refugee is something that she feels is forced onto her: It’s not something we chose to become. It’s a situation that came to us… It’s not easy being a refugee. Because we have other thoughts as well, like a normal student we are studying as well, but there are other challenges that I personally have to face. Nothing is easy in our life, and we are afraid of how other people will treat us as well. She reflected on the factors that had enabled her to be one of the tiny minority of refugees who manage to remain in education despite all the pressures pushing them into the world of work. Nurain counts herself lucky to have received a good basic education and even luckier to have been able to stay in Sri Lanka during those final weeks of fear and confusion. Had she left even a couple of months earlier, she would have received none of the qualifications which have made her subsequent studies in Malaysia impossible. She is therefore in a far stronger position for continuing her education than her younger siblings.

94  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey She also felt that the support she had received from her family had been critical: Of course, support from family. If my family didn’t support me at all, definitely I wouldn’t be here. Her family expected their children to receive an education. Whilst her Dad was educated only to O-level standard, he believed that his daughter needed more in the contemporary world. In Sri Lanka, both her grandmother and mother were preschool teachers, running their own school. They expected no less for their daughter. These expectations have been internalized by Nurain and enabled her to push herself on. Finally, she also emphasized the importance of continuing to fight against circumstance. She had a message for other young refugees like herself: Don’t let your status decide what you’re going to become. Keep trying. Maybe one day or another it will happen. Because one thing I’ve learnt, especially at [her current university], this is something that I never thought would happen at all. This is like the last thing which I thought. But somewhere around the corner, it did happen. So keep trying and definitely at one point, maybe not what you desired would have happened, but something will happen. So keep trying. As a refugee, only you have the potential to change your destiny, no-one else. At one point, you will have to decide your own life. In my life, I thought my parents would do everything every time, they would basically be my shepherds. Later on, I realised, no, I have to come out of it. I have to decide my own future.

11 Jamilah – Somalia

Jamilah’s ambition is to return to Somalia, although she has only spent a few months of her life there and that time was traumatic. Currently a student nurse, her plan is to go back to Somalia as soon as she graduates rather than to seek resettlement in a more stable country: My hope is to go back because I love it. It’s really messed up, so I cannot just ignore it and move forward with my own life just thinking of my success. My aim is to go back to Somalia; that is my biggest dream right now. She has already written emails to a prominent campaigner on Somali health education with her ideas for promoting health care there. Her determination to go back and realize these ambitions as soon as she has finished her course dominated the interview. She was appalled by the preventable deaths that dominated life in Somalia – high maternal mortality rates and small wounds leading to major infections and amputations because of a lack of knowledge of basic hygiene: With my knowledge I am planning to help them and to give them a better life. Here in Malaysia, you will not hear that a mum will die because of her delivery; it’s quite unusual; but back in Somalia you will hear it, like it’s a normal thing, and women are afraid to give birth… So I’m trying to find a way to help them. Nursing for her means ‘helping people at their lowest point in life.’ Jamilah knows what it is like to go through bereavement and other troubles, and knew that she would be able to empathize with her patients. Ironically, the Civil War that has dominated Somali life since the early 1990s means that she has spent very little of her life in Somalia. Although she was born there, she was only a year old when her father started to receive death threats from Al-Shabaab, a jihadist militant group allied to Al-Qaeda who were waging war against the Somali government. Her parents fled to Kenya with Jamilah and her newborn baby sister.

96  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey Surviving as refugees in Kenya demanded resilience and enterprise, and Jamilah’s mother set up her own business selling tomatoes and onions at the roadside. As the years passed, according to Jamilah’s version of the story, she noticed that the little Kenyan girls running around the village with her daughters were one-by-one leaving the world of play and being enrolled in the local school. She started to wonder why her own daughters should be left behind. Jamilah explained what happened next: From the age of five, she forced my dad to take us to school. Somalia remains a patriarchal society. It was Jamilah’s father who made the decisions for the family, and he couldn’t see why girls would need an education. Although there were still gender differences in Kenya, the culture there was very different from their own. Jamilah’s mother argued that as the family were now living in Kenya, her daughters needed the same opportunities as the Kenyan girls: She talked with my dad. They had this mentality, ladies should not go to school. Back in Somalia, it is obvious. If you are a lady, you go to the kitchen, cook and learn to take care of your husband, end of the story. But my mum had this kind of idea that ladies should work for themselves. Because my mum doesn’t read, she can’t read in English, can’t talk in English, she can’t do maths – but if she had gone to any school she would have been the best, I’m telling you. Her ideas, the way she thinks and the way she handles problems, it’s something else. Which has really helped me. Every small thing I’m doing, I always rely on her. In Kenya, refugees are permitted to attend government schools, but the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) pays only half of the fees for primary education; the rest must be paid by the refugee families themselves. Having persuaded her husband to let the girls go to school, her mother now had to find the money to make it possible. Some months, her earnings from the market were sufficient; other months, the girls could not have lunch at school because only the basic fees had been paid. Somehow, each month, the money was found: But still we struggled, struggled and finished the primary life, me and my sister. Jamilah told me that during this time she had not only learnt from her teachers – to read and write – but she had also learnt a more important lesson from her mother – to never give up. Jamilah commented on the inspiration she got from her mother’s example: I get this spirit from her.

Jamilah – Somalia  97 In her Kenyan school, she also learnt to speak English – a skill that was to prove invaluable to her in later life. Once they had finished primary schooling, Jamilah’s Kenyan classmates went on to secondary school. For Jamilah, the end of primary also meant the end of financial support for fees from the UNHCR. Without that subsidy, continuing her education was impossible. Jamilah wrote to the UNHCR with her primary school grades begging for their continued assistance, and in the meantime she watched her old classmates moving ahead in their learning: I was so depressed, so sad. Just sitting in the house watching mum and helping mum. At the end of each school day, she visited her friends’ houses to look at their textbooks and to try to learn the information second-hand from them – ‘I was so eager to learn’ and so worried about falling behind. One year later, the UNHCR replied, offering her a full scholarship for her secondary education owing to her excellent grades. She was excited and happy to be able to join her former classmates, delighted to be able to continue studying English, but studying in secondary school brought various challenges. First, the UNHCR gave no allowance for textbooks: It was hard. I had no textbooks. I remember, my friend used to live ten kilometres from my house. No car for us and we were afraid of the bikes because there are men who will drive and anything can happen. So I was trying to be careful. After I come back from school, I change, I start running from my house to my friend’s place. Just to take the notes. Over time, though, she managed to save up from her lunch allowance so that she could buy her own copies of the textbooks. Second, as she got older her father believed that it was time she started to prepare for marriage: My dad actually told me to leave the school because I’m a female. I remember the words my dad told me, ‘You’re a female. You’ll never sit in an office. Go to the kitchen and learn how to cook.’ I didn’t used to listen to dad. My right-hand was my mum. If I get any problems, I used to talk to her, so that she can defend me from dad, who was stopping me from going to school. Lastly, the political troubles that the family hoped they had escaped when they left Somalia found them again in Kenya. She was in Form Two of secondary school when her father started to receive death threats again: At that time the Al-Shabaab were looking for him. Because if you were trying to progress anything for your family, like start a small business, for example, they will straightaway kill you. It was so bad back then in Somalia.

98  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey He went into hiding whilst the rest of the family tried to carry on as normal. She arrived home from school one day to find her mother and sisters weeping uncontrollably, and her uncles at the house. Her father had been murdered. Despite their differences over girls’ education, Jamilah had loved her father. She wept as she described the searing pain felt by the family at that time: It was hard for me. It was hard for Mum. Before that, she used to get support from Dad, and now Dad was not there any more… It was a very tragic moment for the whole family. Jamilah recounted how life changed: Mum started to act different. She didn’t have that drive. She was just so down. I was trying to make her up, like, ‘Mum, stay strong,’ because I am the eldest of the family and there was nobody else to talk to Mum. So I was trying to make Mum strong again and wake her up. After her father’s death, the family struggled financially. By then, Jamilah had four younger siblings – a younger brother and two much younger sisters had been born in Kenya. Their mother would have liked to move back to Somalia for more family support, and with her husband dead there seemed to be no more danger there for the family. However, because of the dearth of schooling for girls in Somalia, their mother stayed in Kenya long enough for the older girls to complete their secondary education. At that point, they returned. Jamilah was to spend only a few months in Somalia; it was a combination of threats from extremists and family difficulties that made it impossible for them to settle there again: We stayed there for a few months, and then the same people who had attacked Dad attacked us again and tried to take away Mum. We tried to move to a couple of places, different cities…Then my Dad’s brother came to the family. And he said, ‘Since my brother has passed away, you cannot take care of the children. I will marry you.’ And Mum did not like that idea because she wanted to live by her own, and do her things by her own. But once you get married, Mum would be forced to take his rules. In Somalia, if a man dies, his brother takes over as head of the family. Jamilah’s uncle was angered by her mother’s marriage refusal and considered himself to have a right to both her and the children. He announced his intention to claim his nieces and nephews, even if their mother refused to be his wife. In a panic, her mother fled back to Kenya. Jamilah, too, was terrified. She envisioned what her life would be if that happened: ‘it’s like you are a slave.’ She would need his permission to leave the

Jamilah – Somalia  99 house; she would have to cook when he demanded. She was adamant that she didn’t accept that way of thinking: We were not safe any more. Any time he could bust into the house and take us away from her, and then, the end of my life, I guess. Because, if he takes us away – the kind of mentality the Somali people have is, if you are a lady you have no fucking rights at all. She had friends who were frightened of being beaten by their brothers if they did not obey their commands, but she had encouraged them to resist. Hitherto, she had never experienced fear of her male relatives nor had her freedom of movement curtailed. Suddenly she found herself facing the same situation, and she knew she could never accept it: While I was growing up, since I was a few years old, Mum and Dad were away from the Somali people; we were in the middle of Kenya. So the culture influenced my power over everything; it changed me. It changed me a lot, the lifestyle that I was living back then, and I started to know that [the patriarchy in Somalia] was not the right thing. Like ladies should not stay at home. They should go and work. Have a husband at home, but not working for the husband. The two people should help themselves. So that mentality grew in my mind. Even though I was young, I was telling my friends, hey, don’t listen to your brother, don’t put the food on his table. Because he should be. Because ladies should be treated like queens. I was telling them that. Not you treating him; it should be the opposite. Once they were in Kenya again, her mother contacted her own relatives. ­Jamilah’s maternal uncle and grandmother were already settled in Australia, and on hearing of the situation sent money to pay for the family’s escape. Together, they chose Malaysia; it is one of the few countries that accepts travellers on Somali passports without complicated visa requirements, and they thought that as a Muslim majority country it might feel less culturally alien to them. In addition, it had the added advantage of being close enough to Australia for her grandmother and uncle to cover over to visit – after they arrived in KL, Jamilah’s mother saw her mother and brother again for the first time in 25 years. Jamilah was 19 years old when she arrived in Malaysia. She had been ripped without warning from a village in Africa to the bustle of an Asian capital city: It happened so quickly. Life changed within seconds…Where I live in Kenya, it’s simple, it’s calm. People live far away. People live far away, a lot of farms, growing vegetables. It’s a very rural area. You will not see cars moving very fast and no motorbikes. The village was very calm. And when we came here, I was very confused. I don’t know the roads. I don’t know

100  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey the Malay language. Everything was new to me, being in the city for the first time. Her clothes and skin colour marked her as an outsider, and she encountered racism for the first time in her life. She found that she was always served last in restaurants and that people commented on her style of hijab (headscarf): People looking at you in a weird way, discriminating, like ‘don’t touch me, you’re a negro’. Before I didn’t know what is the meaning of ‘negro’, but after a while I got used to it. Her younger brother had a harder time. One day, he came home with his face dripping with blood after he had asked to play football with some local children. Their response had been to knock him down and jump on his head. She rushed him to hospital where his injuries were so bad that he needed to stay overnight. The next day, they were unable to pay the medical bills, so the hospital prevented him from leaving until the UNHCR paid the bill – two weeks later. In Kuala Lumpur, her mother could not work legally: Mum cannot work any more. She cannot start her own business. In Africa you can just start a small shop, just sit at the roadside, open your own box and try to sell things. But in Malaysia you cannot do that. Instead, they relied on the financial support of her mother’s family to pay the rent and took in lodgers to help make ends meet. The family slept squashed together on mattresses on the floor: So we were forced to have all of us – five children plus mum, six – to stay in a small room…Sleeping in one room. It was kind of hard, no air-con and only one fan. Kenya is quite cold, but here it is quite hot, so we couldn’t adapt to the humidity inside the room. And everything was so hard. Then life changed again. We struggled there for one year, and then we moved and then Mum rented a whole flat and she rented the other rooms, and we stayed in the biggest room. It was great for us; at least we can separate the people. Still crowded. As Jamilah told her story, she tried to concentrate on the positives, the improvements, rather than the difficulties. For example, she said that they were fortunate to have been registered with the UNHCR in Kenya. This meant that it was only about six months before they were able to get a UNHCR card in Malaysia, compared to newly registered refugees in Malaysia, who are often unable to get an appointment for several years. Once they had the card, life became a little easier; for example, they were less susceptible to police harassment and they were charged less by certain doctors.

Jamilah – Somalia  101 Jamilah and her siblings wanted to continue their education in Malaysia. Thankfully, they had all learnt English in Kenya, which was invaluable as none of them spoke Malay. Her younger siblings easily found a learning centre run by English-speaking volunteers. Things were harder for Jamilah; as she was already over the age of 18, most learning centres considered her too old. She found work for 200 MYR per month as a classroom-assistant-cum-cleaner at a Madrassa (Islamic school for young boys) within her apartment block. With the Madrassa in the same building as she lived, she would sometimes she would go for three weeks without ever going outside or seeing people of her own age. It was almost two years before she was able to find a refugee learning centre that accepted teenaged and young adult Somalis. Attending school would be a financial blow to the family; it meant that Jamilah would no longer be able to earn money, as well as needing to find her school fees of 30 MYR per month. Her Mum agreed to help her initially, but it wasn’t clear how they could continue to support all five children in the longer term if Jamilah stopped earning. Nevertheless, she grasped this as her last chance to learn; she had faith that something would happen to make it sustainable. Once Jamilah started studying, it became clear that she was far ahead of most of the other students. She had already completed secondary education and was reasonably fluent in English. The head teacher offered to pay her to become the maths teacher for the younger children every morning, whilst she could study for free at the centre every afternoon. Knowing that this would remove some of the financial pressures on her Mum, Jamilah accepted. Although she ended up teaching most of the time rather than studying, ­Jamilah was happy to be involved in the learning centre. She enjoyed the chance to make friends of her own age, and the opportunity to connect with the ­international volunteer teachers. Nevertheless, she never lost sight of her primary goal – ­f urthering her own education and becoming a medical practitioner. She needed to find a university or college that was prepared to register a refugee and, crucially, would reduce their fees for someone in her situation. She had heard that a few colleges in Malaysia had just started to accept refugee students, but when she researched it online she could only find business or arts courses. After many months of online research, she found a college that said on its website that it accepted refugee students onto its medical and science courses. She went to visit, full of trepidation and excitement, but the receptionist brusquely turned her away: Straightaway he told me, we don’t offer education for UNCHR people…I felt like he was pushing me away. It was so heart-breaking. Because I am a refugee you cannot offer me an education? Is it that I must have a visa and a passport? That thing’s not going to stop me from coming. I was so mad and hurting. And so I just walked out. She felt humiliated, but she was not going to give up. She went home, searched online and managed to find the name of the person who was responsible for the

102  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey programme. She phoned up, and was invited back to the college with a formal appointment. To get inside, she had to walk past the same receptionist. As she headed inside, she kept glancing back over her shoulder, afraid that she would be thrown out again for being a refugee. This time, things went much better; she was welcomed and encouraged. The academic helped her to think about courses that might suit her needs. It was immediately obvious that she couldn’t pursue her dream of becoming a doctor as the fees were too expensive. However, she was offered a place on a nursing course with a 40% reduction in fees. As her maternal grandmother is a midwife in Australia, this felt right, and she accepted. She thought she was a step closer to achieving her dream. When she reflected on her time studying at college, Jamilah said with typical understatement that it has ‘not been easy.’ There have been psychological, physical and financial difficulties for her to overcome. Psychologically, each day as she enters the campus, she has to walk past the same receptionist who shooed her away the first time she dared to visit. Physically, she is always exhausted for her days are extremely long. As she is reliant on public transport, her journey to campus takes about three hours each way; she gets up at 5 am, in order to be in class by 9 am, and doesn’t arrive home until about 7 pm. During exam week, a friend who lives locally lets her sleep on the floor. Financially, she is reliant on her uncle in Australia sending her the money that she needs to pay for her transport. Whenever she has additional expenses, such as paying exam fees, she has to take on part-time evening work, typically working until about midnight. And she copes with all of these difficulties privately, reluctant to share her circumstances with those around her. She has told a couple of close friends and two of her lecturers that she is a refugee, but she doesn’t want most of her classmates to know: Once you say that I’m a refugee, even if you are good-looking or you’ve got everything, if you say I’m a refugee, they are going to think you are something else. Their whole vision of you will be changed. I don’t know how it will be changed, but it will be changed. A refugee is not a bad person; it is the circumstances that meet them. She came to crisis point at the end of her first year, when she had to do clinical practice for three months in the north of Malaysia, ‘because around here they don’t allow foreign students, African students, to work in the hospital.’ She had no idea how she would manage to support herself there: ‘I was just in my class crying, while all of my friends were getting ready for the posting.’ She felt on the point of giving up and regretted having ever tried to become a nurse: Days are passing by and I was worried every single minute because clinical practice is over my head. How are you going to survive those three months in Keddah? What are you going to eat? What are you going to drink? Her mother was worrying too and upset that she had no pocket money to give her daughter. Jamilah was uncertain about what to do, but at the last minute she

Jamilah – Somalia  103 decided that she had to trust in God, and, despite having made no arrangements for how she could manage when she got there, she joined her classmates on the bus to go north: Zero ringgit in my pocket. Nothing at all. Just my clothes, my handbag, my books. They arrived in Keddah. The other students dispersed to the rooms they had rented in advance. Jamilah had nowhere to go. That first night, she asked a friend if she could share his room, and he let her sleep in his bed while he slept on the floor. She didn’t feel that was fair on him, so the next morning she pretended she had found a room to rent and left his place with all her luggage. In fact, she went to the only place she could think of as offering a safe refuge – the surau (prayer room) by the mosque. It was the start of three months of homelessness, with nowhere to live and no money for food: I used to hide my bags [at the surau] and pretend I am praying, but actually I am living there. No place to go. All my friends are asking me, tell me where you live, tell me where you live. And I said, I live in a good place, please don’t worry…So living there for these weeks and eating at the hospital when the patients didn’t get served. The ward is so big, forty or fifty patients, so when they eat there is always one patient who is discharged, the food for that patient – I used to ask the guy, hey can I have a little food? The orderly at the hospital noticed that she was always hungry and would call her over whenever there was uneaten food, but she was still constantly hungry: Sometimes I don’t eat the whole day and the whole night, and in the morning I am really hungry and you have to be at work around six. Hungry, and I cannot even rest my hand. I’m shaking. Living in the surau, she had nowhere to leave her belongings: I remember people used to tell me, why are you always with a travelling bag? Are you not settled in one place. And I said, I am, but there are some important things there that you don’t know…Mum used to ask me, where are you living? And I said, I am living OK, don’t worry. I never told her I am living in the surau…I didn’t want her to worry about me. The first month was the hardest, for during that time she had no money at all. During the second and third months, her mother managed to send her 100 MYR each month. Although this couldn’t cover the cost of renting anywhere, at least this gave Jamilah a little money for food. In addition to these physical hardships, Jamilah experienced racism from the Malaysian nursing staff. Although she is the only Somali and the only refugee

104  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey on her course, there are four other African students, and she felt that they were not treated in the same way as other students: Sometimes the head of the nurses wouldn’t allow us African students to give injections to the patients, whereas the other Malay students can freely manage their patients. Reflecting back on the whole experience of her placement up north, Jamilah felt proud of herself for managing to get through it. She saw it as a test of her religious faith and her commitment to the course: That is why they say, only God knows what you are going to eat, so don’t worry. The thing that is happening is already planned for you, it’s bigger than you. God is there. I have faith in him. I have belief in him. Upon her return to Kuala Lumpur for her second year of study, her usual routine of six hours travel a day now seemed relatively comfortable. ‘It isn’t easy,’ was Jamilah’s refrain throughout the interview. This understatement was used to describe bereavement, homelessness, racism and poverty. She cried at several points during her interview, as she recounted the troubles she had been through, but she kept reminding herself ‘You cannot go back. There is nothing to go back for.’ It is her dogged persistence in the face of overwhelming odds that shines through her story. She explained how she was able to keep going by reference to her religion and her underlying philosophy; remember that your troubles will soon be a memory and that you will forget the bad once good times arrived. She added: I believe if you want something, there is nothing that can stop you. If you have the good intention, the mind, there’s nothing that can stop you. I believe even God cannot stop you…It’s like the road is rough, but if you see the light, you can walk there no matter what happens to your feet. One day scars will form and then it will be okay.

12 Omar – Iraq

Omar is continually looking for further opportunities to study. He has attended colleges and universities in Malaysia to learn a variety of skills. He had always planned to get a degree; when he first came to Malaysia, he studied English and took his International English Language Testing System (IELTS) exams so that he would be able to enter university with the same qualifications as everyone else. However, financial pressures on the family prevented him continuing fulltime study. Instead, he has supported himself through part-time work whilst completing various short courses; he is willing to study anything wherever he will be accepted as a refugee student. He has completed a culinary course – many refugees find work in the restaurant business – and further English study. The year before our interview, he had completed his Diploma in international business with a private college operating unofficially in Malaysia. Despite all this, he still cannot get a job. Omar explained: It didn’t help, because I’m a refugee in Malaysia and I don’t have a visa. That was the last time I tried to do something for myself. However, Omar continues to want to pursue his education further – this time to get a degree that will be more valued. He would like to study physics, although he knows that few places in Malaysia have the facilities for this – and that none of them have currently opened their doors to refugees. If that is not possible, though, he is eager to study other things, including following up his studies in business. His desperation to study is a long way from what he thought his life would be like. Until the 2003 Iraq-American War, his family’s life in Iraq had been comfortable and secure. Omar was the second oldest of six siblings, and he remembers a life of play and plenty that abruptly changed: Then the war happened, and we were too childish to understand what was happening around us, so we didn’t give a care to what was happening. Then my father started getting threats from militia groups…They exploded the car of my father while my father and my sister were inside the car…They tried to kill my father around 4 or 5 times; one of the times, me, my elder brother and my younger brother were with him in the car. A car stopped in

106  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey front of us, they opened the back door and then they tried to shoot us with machine-guns, but it didn’t work. When Omar was 13 years old, his older brother was kidnapped. For the next two weeks, the family had no idea whether their 15-year-old son was alive or dead. They suspected that Shia militants were behind his disappearance because his father, a prominent Sunni businessman, had already received threats. There were no further clues as to who had stolen their child, or what they had done to him. They prayed for his release. But, Omar told me, they also prayed that, if the boy was to be executed, his death should be swift. At last, on the nineteenth day, the telephone rang. The voice demanded US$100,000 to be ready in 48 hours. It was an impossible request – how on earth, they argued, could they raise so much money so quickly? A series of telephone calls ensued, during which Omar’s father haggled with the kidnappers. Over the next few hours, the price came down slowly until they received a final ultimatum: Thirty thousand or his head. The family decided that there was no point in contacting the authorities. Child kidnapping was a common problem; there was nothing special about their situation and no reason to believe that the police would be able to find their child. It was more likely that any hint of police involvement would anger the kidnappers and result in the boy being killed. So Omar’s family scrabbled US$30,000 together by selling their cars, and borrowing from friends and relatives. Two days later, at 7 am, they left the money in a public place, faithfully following the kidnappers’ instructions. There followed an agonizing wait. Omar went through the possible outcomes they had considered during this time: would the kidnappers flee with the money and kill him anyway? Was he, in fact, already dead? At last, nine hours later, Omar’s father received a final telephone call telling him where his son could be found. He had been dropped off by one of the gates into the city. He was physically unharmed. They thought that the nightmare was over. Omar explained: We didn’t believe that that twenty-one days was a part of our life. It was the worst. Yet there was worse to come. After the kidnapping, the family’s primary fear was that, having paid one ransom demand, another child would be taken. If word got around the extremist groups that a certain family had money, someone else was bound to try. Sure enough, soon afterwards a kidnap attempt was made on Omar himself, probably by a different group. The family were constantly having to evaluate whether there was a real threat to any of their children: There are lots of groups in the city, or around there, kidnapping people. So they will hear the story, oh they asked for thirty thousand and they just

Omar – Iraq  107 gave that in forty-eight hours, so they will think that they can make money, actually. Some of the groups, friends can tell you or connections can tell you that they are able to kill. Some of the groups, they say no, they are just trying to make money and they will never kill, they will never hurt anyone. Despite the enormous risks, he kept attending school. For safety, Omar travelled to school with his brother and cousins. At first, Omar’s uncles escorted the boys to school to keep them safe, but teaching them to protect themselves was seen as a better longer-term solution. So, Omar and the other boys were taught how to use a gun and drive a car. Again, there was nothing unusual in this behaviour; the children had to look after themselves so that the adults could go back to work: We started going to school, parking nearby with the guns we had, so that whatever happens we are not waiting for anybody to kidnap us now…My uncles said, we cannot be chasing you the rest of your life. Either we can stop you from going to school or lose you because there are some groups out there trying to kidnap you. So you learn how to drive. You learn these guns. So whatever comes, you guys, there are five or six of you, and whatever comes you just drive to do something about it. If you need to be killed – many people are being killed due to the war, due to the Americans, right? So if you are killed, you are killed, what can we do? Do you want us to start selling our houses one by one and start sleeping on the road just because we need to free you up from those kidnappers? No. Learn to protect yourself. Omar explained his new school pick-up routine; the cousins drove between each of their schools, communicating by mobile so that each child could stay inside the school compound until the exact moment that the car pulled up outside. Omar described the effect on them: So we became a man at that age. The oldest of us was my brother, at fifteen, and the youngest was nine years old. Then we learnt all this stuff just to protect ourselves. Omar tried to express his feelings as he told his story: Sometimes the mind cannot handle it. It is something we can only see in the movies. But I’ve seen the reality…And these are not the worst stories; there are worst stories than these stories back in Iraq. Like if I hear it from other people, I would be crying just listening to them. My story among theirs – but, still, for human rights, all the stories are very bad. When you are getting threatened when you are outside of your house, and you don’t know if you are going to get back home or not…My Dad used to go, and we didn’t know whether he was coming back or not. And one time my brother didn’t come back; he went to school and they kidnapped him.

108  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey For the next year-and-a-half, the young boys tried to protect themselves as they travelled to and from school. Life settled into a strange sort of routine despite the violence around them. In 2005, Omar’s father, a prominent local figure, received another death threat. As a Sunni Muslim in a Shia-dominated city, he was ‘advised’ to leave the city. Since his opponents were by now supported by the notorious Blackwater mercenaries, he feared that their assassination attempts might be more effective than before. The family fled to Syria. As is so common with refugees, the family had no conception at that time that ordinary life was over; they still believed that this was a temporary nightmare: We went to Syria. We thought that in a few months everything was going to be alright. My father would be safe, and that was the main point of leaving Iraq, right? And then the few months became five years. Once the family arrived in Syria, things were kept as normal as possible for the children. Schools in Damascus were already three weeks into term, so the children joined their classes as soon as they arrived. Omar found the switch in schooling systems a struggle; French was a core subject in Syria from Grade 5, so he and his older brother were well behind their peers. Omar was completely lost in French class, until to his great relief the Syrian Ministry of Education decided to exempt Iraqi refugees from the French language requirement. Although he still had to attend the lessons, passing the exam was no longer required for high school graduation. Life in Syria was hard. His father’s Iraqi enemies pursued the family to ­Damascus, seeking his extradition, and eventually his father fled to Malaysia. Omar explained that getting his ticket to leave the country had not been easy, and a bribe had to be paid: Finally, the officer helped us, after paying of course. They never do anything for free, especially in Syria. Nothing for free. Even breathing the air, must be paid money for it. I don’t blame them because they are too poor back then. Our currency is too much compared to theirs back then. Omar’s father travelled to Malaysia, leaving his wife and the six children behind in Syria. Omar’s mother was determined that somehow, through all these difficulties, she should keep her family together and keep their childhoods as stable as possible. The family still planned to reunite in Iraq some day. After five years in Syria, Omar had almost completed his high school education and was a few months from his final examinations when, once again, the family faced political difficulties. They needed money, and the decision was made to sell the family car. His older brother went to complete the deal, but when the Iraqi buyers showed up, they brought with them the Syrian authorities. His brother was accused of theft – since the car was registered under their

Omar – Iraq  109 father’s name – and was thrown into jail. Omar and his mother are convinced that the buyers were agents for the Iraqi government who were pursuing his father’s family by whatever means they could. To compound their troubles, during this period, Omar’s mother was diagnosed with breast cancer – which the family thought had likely been caused by uranium contamination during the war. With her husband in Malaysia and her oldest son in jail, she underwent a mastectomy and five rounds of chemotherapy. It was a stressful time for the family, but the treatment seemed to be working. The doctors reassured them that the final rounds of chemotherapy should ensure that she would be cancer-free. After six months of his brother being jailed without charge, the family was given yet another ultimatum. They were told to leave Syria in order to secure his brother’s release. With his mother still requiring three more rounds of chemotherapy, Omar was worried. He tried to negotiate a delay in their repatriation on humanitarian grounds, but the entire family was instructed to leave immediately. So, in March, with Omar three months short of completing his schooling, the family returned to Iraq. Shortly after their departure, his brother was taken to court, but the case against him was dismissed and he was released. After five years in Syria, then, the family all found themselves back in Iraq – with the exception of his father, who remained in Malaysia. Omar had to drop back a year to complete high school, and even then was disappointed with his final grades. He felt that the disruption to his education had taken its toll: Sometimes I regret the 86% that I got in Iraq, because in Syria I could get 94 or 95%. It is not surprising that his grades suffered, however, as during this year he devoted a lot of time to accompanying his mother to hospital for treatment. The move back to Iraq proved disastrous for his mother’s health. First, Omar discovered that the procedures and medication used in Iraq were different from that of Syria, which led to confusion over how his mother should complete her treatment. She switched medication to the one available in Iraq, but the cancer spread; Omar wondered whether it was the interaction between the different medicines used to treat her that explains the recurrence of her cancer. Second, the weak medical infrastructure in Iraq led to delays in the continuation of her chemotherapy treatment. When he first took his mother to hospital, Omar saw a queue of people standing outside. He asked the hospital guard whether people had come to give blood and was horrified to hear that these were all other cancer patients, who had arrived at 4 am simply to queue to get inside the hospital: My mum’s case started getting worse and worse. There were no good hospitals or medication system to cure cancers. And then we found that there were tens of thousands of people with cancer…patients were queuing

110  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey outside the hospital. As a patient, I should be sitting in a place getting rest, but they were standing queuing until the car park. The government hospitals in Iraq were overwhelmed. Not only were there too many patients, but even those patients who eventually got an appointment discovered that there were insufficient resources to offer them any treatment. Since the 2003 Iraq War, the number of cancer patients in Iraq had increased dramatically, as Omar explained: The air is full of pollution. The water. The ground. Sea cucumbers this size, just because of the chemicals reacting with the sand and the water, and then you get something really different. You see women pregnant with ten kids inside. Have you heard of that sort of a case before? In Iraq it’s happened three times before now. Five cases with seven twins. I don’t know how many cases with six twins. Abnormal things are happening in Iraq; due to what? Things that are taken from the ground that we are eating, the water we are drinking, the air we are breathing – everything is polluted. Omar feels angry towards the Americans. He made it clear that his anger is not political. He didn’t care whether Saddam Hussein was in power or not, and was not interested in the politics of his removal, but he does feel that the USA has abnegated its responsibility for the effect of the Iraq War on the country, and that it has subsequently discouraged international aid efforts to support Iraq. His anger is that ordinary people were suffering for political reasons far above their heads: The Americans did this just to get rid of Saddam Hussein, which they didn’t need to. Anyway, they killed Saddam Hussein. Good for you. At least, give us the hospitals, equipment and teams to cure these people. These people are not Saddam Hussein; Saddam Hussein is gone. In desperation, his father brought Omar’s mother and the children to Malaysia, where he hoped that she could receive better quality treatment. However, the cancer was now too far advanced, and it continued to spread. She was thankful that the family could spend her final months together after so many years apart. Omar’s mother passed away in October 2010. Two days before her death, she returned to Iraq to die. With their mother gone, the family fell apart once more. Omar and his older brother decided to stay in Kuala Lumpur. Life in Iraq was too difficult; they had names that marked them out as Sunni Muslims. They worried that having spent some months in Malaysia would lead others to assume they were wealthy and therefore make them kidnap targets again. By contrast, their younger siblings, whose names did not reflect a particular religious affiliation as either Sunni or Shia, returned to Iraq to stay with relatives. Their mother had held the family together through all of the turmoil, her illness and the threats and violence, but now she was gone.

Omar – Iraq  111 Omar first arrived in Malaysia six years ago at the age of 19. He had been registered with the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) as a refugee even since he first arrived in Syria 11 years ago. However, in all this time, the UNHCR has neither resettled nor rejected him. He feels like he has spent his life simply waiting. He is frustrated by the UNHCR process. During the years he has been waiting, he hasn’t been told what is happening to his case. He has told his autobiography repeatedly to one case officer after another. The UNHCR hotline phone goes answered. His emails only generate automatic replies. Meanwhile, living in a Malaysia as a refugee means living without legal recognition, and facing endless restrictions; he feels that he cannot make plans or take control of his own life. He described being stopped by the police and having to pay a bribe because he does not have a visa, only a UNHCR card. He explained the importance of getting legal recognition: I will have plans because I have a life, I have a base. But if you don’t have a base – I can’t be flexible in my movements. I can’t drive after 10pm because if I am stopped by the police they won’t allow me because I am under the UNHCR programme. If he is lucky enough to be resettled, he would be happy to go anywhere in the world: Just send me somewhere else. Just send me to a country where I know that within 3–5 years I can get a passport, where I can further my studies, where I can find a job, where I can buy a car with a loan, I can buy a house with a loan. I can have a life. He would even be willing to stay in Malaysia, if only he could get a visa, work and earn money to support himself and his family. He doesn’t want to be a burden on the society here. Omar is an eloquent and charming young man; he had no self-pity during his interview, although he did have a raw sense of injustice. I asked him why, despite all that has happened to him, he has always retained a commitment to furthering his education. He explained how his personal pride and the people around him had kept him going: I have to. Life will never stop, or people, or things, right? Life will still go on, never matter… I can’t tell [how I managed to keep going]. I might be stronger than many people who are broken easily by life stuff. But then I have many reasons to make me take a stand. My sisters, my late mum, my father. People back in Iraq think I am having a great life in Malaysia. Sometimes they come for a visit here. I have a high pride in myself. I don’t show people that I am broken in anything. Always I try to show the best. So they are waiting for us to get a great result from the kind of life they think we are having. They don’t know how we are living because we don’t voice that.

112  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey It’s a kind of shame…So I have lots of reasons to push me to be the best. So if there is a day that it will be meant for me to go back to Iraq, I will show them that all these years that I left Iraq, I lived to do something – to be a good, great person of myself. That no-one has done it of the situation that I had. But I managed to do it. I managed to be the person that I need to be. I’m not yet the one I need to be, but I am on my way to it.

13 Dalir – Iran

Dalir is one of the many former refugees from Malaysia who have been resettled in Australia. He agreed to be interviewed because he thought it was important to show how seizing even limited educational opportunities in Malaysia can later help refugees to access better quality degrees overseas. Being a role model to other refugees in this way is important to Dalir; in the few years since he left Malaysia he has become an international campaigner for refugee rights. Details of the awards he has won and the recognition he has garnered would jeopardize his anonymity, but he has been involved in global consultations on education for refugees, and has been formally recognized for his humanitarian work. Yet he is still only 24 years old. I spoke to Dalir on the day that he was flying from Sydney to Geneva to represent the views of refugees at the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) headquarters. He had just returned from running a training session for refugees in Thailand. In between these two trips, he was rushing to his university to sit his final two exams of the semester; alongside his campaigning work, he is also in his second year of a degree in civil engineering. I offered to reschedule the appointment, but Dalir was happy to fit in yet another commitment, and his interview took place via Skype as he travelled on the train to campus. He is a young man who does not have a moment to waste. Dalir was born in Iran and lived there for most of his childhood, although the family spent a few years living in Dubai. Whilst in the United Arab ­Emirates (UAE), he had attended an Iranian school following the Iranian curriculum because ‘I never thought that I would want to leave Iran.’ He developed some basic English skills, like other Iranian students, but never envisaged that he would need to live in an English-speaking country. His parents didn’t send him to one of the many English-speaking international school in Dubai because the thought that they might ever end up as refugees had not crossed the family’s minds at that time. Dalir was an academic student; he attended selective schools in Iran and ­Dubai because he was interested in studying. He envisaged university success, and was on track to do well in his school exams – but when he was 15 years old, he was forced to flee the country with his mother and younger brother. Dalir didn’t talk about the reasons why his family had to leave Iran. He was focussed on the challenges the family faced on arriving in a new country.

114  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey They had to leave Iran as quickly as possible; in the chaos and panic of leaving, his mother looked for the closest country where she thought they would be safe and that they could enter without having to wait to get a visa. As a result, they ended up in Malaysia, a place where they knew nobody and didn’t speak the language. It could have been anywhere in the world. They ended up staying there for six years. At first, the family felt completely overwhelmed: We went there and we registered with the UNHCR. We had no idea about the culture, the language, about what is this country, even their religion. Really, we had no idea about anything. I’m telling you, zero. And we didn’t know anyone at all. So we just went there, took a cab, stayed in a hotel and then registered. It was very hard for us suddenly – being in a good life and thrown into a country where you don’t know anyone. Forget about your education, your friends, your family, your relatives. Going there, you don’t have the right to education, no right to employment, no rights to the healthcare. You don’t know the language. You don’t know anyone. We were trying to start to settle down there, but you don’t have the rights and you don’t have the culture. So it was totally one hundred and eighty degrees different. From being a promising schoolboy, Dalir had suddenly become a refugee who needed to focus on survival. From being a citizen in a privileged family, he had become an illegal worker who couldn’t communicate in Malay. He had left Iran before he could obtain any formal qualifications, so he could only take unskilled work. He did his best to try to adjust: Slowly we tried to learn the language, tried to learn English, tried talking to the people and tried to find a job. At this point, he had to stop his education entirely; instead, he embarked on a succession of poorly paid jobs so that the family could make ends meet. However, he didn’t give up on his ambitions entirely. During his time working in Kuala Lumpur, Dalir found a number of ways to keep his educational dreams alive. Whilst working in a coffee bar one evening, he began chatting to a customer, and discovered that he taught at a local university. Dalir began to explain to him about the challenges faced by refugees faced in trying to access higher education. After an excited discussion about the ways in which refugees could be supported, they arranged to meet again and brainstorm ideas. They knew that they had to find a way to make education compatible with enabling refugees to earn a living. Together, they devised a series of short, vocational courses that refugees could take at the university – in hairdressing, IT and culinary skills. Although it wasn’t the sort of education that he yearned for, Dalir attended each of these courses in turn. He was happy to study anything, in a bid to keep his learning alive. He explained that he saw any kind of study, whatever the style and whatever the focus, as a way to hang onto his ambitions.

Dalir – Iran  115 The second step that he took towards readying himself for education was also made around this time; he became a translator for the UNHCR. At this point in his life, he confessed, his English was ‘terrible.’ In fact, he was initially reluctant to take on the role as he felt that there must be others who were better qualified. However, one of the UNHCR staff urged him to put himself forward. Dalir explained why he was persuaded: It’s interesting and it’s the least you can do to help people in a transition country. So I said, OK, I can work on it. As a translator, he was continually having to use and further acquire the English language. A further step that Dalir took towards furthering his education while still in Malaysia was that he finished his Year 12 studies online. Overall, then, despite having had to drop out of formal education when he became a refugee, he had nevertheless managed to complete his schooling, maintain his study skills and develop his English language skills; these were all to prove essential to him when he was eventually resettled in Australia. After six years, Dalir and his family were selected for resettlement. Although they were pleased, the process of resettlement was a further challenge. He described the sense of repeated dislocation he experienced, with first having to flee his home country, eventually finding a routine in Malaysia, and then being ripped from everything he knew once again: I was in Iran for a very small period when I was trying to understand what was happening, and then I went to Malaysia. And then when you are trying to get used to the situation there, again you have to go. So, it’s starting from zero. To reach to somewhere, you have to fly. Then, going to a new country – by the time I had been there six years I had learned their language and now I can speak the language. Then the culture. And I had made a lot of friends. I was working one day a week with the UNHCR and some of the other NGOs. I had learned a few different skills – how to be a barista, and make coffees! And then again I had to leave the country. Dalir had found the constant change difficult, but he also pointed out that he had been lucky along his journey. He didn’t dwell on the difficulties but focussed on being thankful that things were not worse. He argued that the multiculturalism of Malaysia and its vibrant tourist sector meant that people from all over the world are accepted there. Similarly, in Australia, he felt that ethnic diversity was respected and valued. Feeling that people were welcoming had eased his transitions, but they were still hard. When he arrived in Australia, he was given a six-month orientation programme to help him adjust to the new country. He had to learn about Australian law and culture, and further develop his language skills. He was given support with finding accommodation and work. There was a lot to absorb and a new life

116  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey to construct for his family. However, Dalir’s main aim was to continue with his education in Australia. The other refugees he met in Australia were sceptical about his dreams. Many of them had been in the country longer than he had, and had encountered negative attitudes. Their advice to him was to discontinue with his education. After all, they pointed out, he had had a gap of about five years away from his studies: They said stop, don’t go to the university. You’ll fail. And nobody will let you in. Despite this, almost as soon as he arrived in Australia, Dalir started to contact local universities. He was told that they wouldn’t consider him unless he had an English proficiency certificate. Undaunted, he completed the English course that was part of his country orientation, and then reapplied. He looked for engineering courses all over Sydney. He had to cope with repeated rejections: It was hard to get in; I was rejected by seven universities, but when I got in I took six people with me, including my brother. I forced them. One of them is a girl who wanted to study architecture, but I found her a pathway from Civil Engineering to Architecture. In the future, he hopes to combine his engineering knowledge with his humanitarian drive to make a difference for underprivileged people: I’m studying engineering and I’m working in the humanitarian field…and I think in the future I’m going to do something like humanitarian engineering…I’m working with many NGOs but I don’t want to be under an agreement to work directly with one because that limits you. His ideas about the future are unclear, mainly because he doesn’t want to be bounded by definite ambitions: To see myself in five years, that I can’t do, because every year things are coming up. So maybe one day I’m in the right direction, but the next year I want something better. So I’m trying not to plan for five years. Maybe every two years. They say the sky is the limit. Five years ago, he would never have been able to envisage where he is today. ­Dalir’s family had not set their sights on getting into Australia. Their only aim was to get safely out of Iran. He would have been happy to go to any safe country for resettlement: We don’t pick where to go or pick to be a refugee. What we want is just a safer place to stay and live our life. We are not going to be a burden or get anyone’s job. It’s just about living like the other humans.

Dalir – Iran  117 One thing he was very clear about, however; now that he is there, he wants to be a part of Australian society. He wants to feel that he is contributing. He doesn’t want to be a burden to his new country, or a drain on their resources. He wants to belong. He knows that this will be hard work because at present he has a sense of not belonging anywhere: It’s very hard to say because I still don’t have citizenship here. I don’t have an Iranian passport as well. I really can’t see myself as an Iranian, but I’m trying my best to give to the Australian community as their own citizen. I’m working here paying tax, and representing them in the UNHCR headquarters, Geneva, Switzerland. You are trying to do as much as a normal citizen can do, but still it’s very hard sometimes. You face racism; sometimes there are gaps between the different communities. You might find it hard to integrate into the community. But you are trying to get there. I’ve found that the first step is education, and then the second step might be work, and then trying to give back to the community. Aside from his international humanitarian work, he described other ways in which he is trying to give back to Australian society. For instance, he is currently mentoring several students who need help with mathematical physics – both former refugees and Australians. Although he wants to be an ordinary Australian citizen, he believes that his status as a former refugee will always be with him. He argued that from the moment when a new arrival registers with the UNHCR, they get a label – first as an asylum seeker and later as a refugee. Even when you are resettled, Dalir told me, you are a former refugee. It always colours how people see you, and it affects how you see yourself. He worries about the assumptions that people make about refugees. The one question that upsets him most is when people ask why he chose to become a refugee; this is not a life that he chose: Nobody chooses to become a refugee. Ten years ago, Syrians would never think that they could become a refugee. It’s something that can happen to any country. And refugees are human. We have doctors who had to flee, professors, engineers. Dalir cannot forget his experiences as a refugee. He feels a drive to help other refugees. At the moment, he is trying to persuade more universities in Malaysia to open their doors to refugees and to give them some kind of scholarship or discount. He is also aware that uncertainty about what will happen regarding resettlement stops many refugees from attempting to enrol on courses. His advice to them is clear: never give up. Nowadays technology is everything. If we can’t get an education – if we’re not allowed to get an education – that does not stop us. Nothing really stops you from trying what you want to achieve in the future. It doesn’t matter

118  Refugees’ stories by Lucy Bailey what situation you are in. Even if you are in a refugee camp, still you can have access to online diploma courses. Many of the other refugees in this book have talked about the importance of their family to their drive for education. For Dalir, it was the knowledge that his younger brother was looking up to him that inspired him to keep going: If I would sit at home and give up my life and say this is terrible, he would do the same. Keeping going with his education was not just about personal success, but about showing his brother what was possible, despite being a refugee. It was 15 minutes until the start of Dalir’s exam, and he had arrived on campus, so we had to stop talking. I wished Dalir luck with the exam and his long journey that evening. He had achieved so much already since he first arrived in Australia and I wondered what he would go on to do next. Prior to arriving in Australia, he had been a refugee in Malaysia for six years, facing the same challenges in receiving an education as the other refugees featured in this book. Now, he is an international speaker. When he speaks to other refugees about how to get educated, he understands exactly the challenges that they face. When he speaks to NGOs and the media, he urges them to help in any way they can. His advice to other refugees and to all those seeking to help refugees to access university – whether they be in NGOs, in the general public or based in the universities themselves: Don’t worry about the final place that you want to be. Take the first step. The most important part is the first step. We can’t focus on what might happen next.

Part 3

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey Refugees in Higher Education (HE): factors that aid success against all odds In this final chapter, I will examine some of the common themes across the students’ accounts, examining the factors that they felt had impacted – positively and negatively – on their ability to maintain their studies, and the implications of these for further efforts to promote tertiary education for refugees. This chapter will situate this study in the wider body of research into refugee access to education. It will be organized by key themes that emerged from systematic content analysis of transcripts of the interviews, employing a grounded theorizing approach. These will be compared and contrasted with themes that have been identified by previous researchers. The chapter will conclude by setting out recommendations for those involved in refugee education. A simplistic account of refugees and education would be that they need opportunities and they need resources. These things are true, but the stories presented in these chapters have pointed to a number of other factors that are at play. First, more detailed analysis leads us to identify weaknesses in the popular media descriptions of refugees’ situations. Second, it also suggests the importance of how individual refugee students construct their personal identity around education in helping them to keep studying. In this section, I will briefly explain both of these claims before discussing the multiple factors involved in the subsections that follow. This research can be juxtaposed to the way in which refugees are constructed in popular accounts, including those in sympathetic sections of the popular media. Being defined as a refugee positions individuals in relation to discursive as well as traditional (hierarchical) forms of power (Phillips and Hardy 1997). Zeus (2011) has stressed the importance of challenging the prevailing narrative concerning refugees as ‘dependent, hungry, helpless and uprooted persons’ (Zeus 2011: p. 267). The accounts offered by these research participants show a far more complex reality. For example, whilst Jamilah was often physically hungry, she was never helpless; her account is one of resourcefulness and independence, and a hunger for education instead. Whilst all of the participants were uprooted geographically, their accounts demonstrate that they remained rooted in their

120  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey communities – for instance, Matthew reaffirmed his commitment to returning to rebuild his country. Although many of the students I interviewed were financially dependent on the support of others – and saw the interview as an opportunity to acknowledge those who had helped them in that and other ways, just as important to these accounts was their sense of a duty to help others, instantiated by how Omran shifted from receiving a food basket to being someone who helped to organize food baskets for newer members of the Syrian refugee community. The participants, then, can be characterized by their shared determination and resourcefulness. Yet we must be wary of assuming that it is simply the ‘grit’ of these individuals that enables them to succeed where others fail. The work of Duckworth (e.g. Duckworth et al. 2007) has been used to suggest that ‘grit’ is key to individual success. However, Duckworth et al.’s work (2007) is based on a study of high-achievers, such as Ivy League students and finalists in the Scripps National Spelling Bee, and is focussed on explaining why, among high IQ individuals, some are more successful than others. They do not present evidence to suggest that grit or resilience enable people to overcome structural barriers to education. Nevertheless, there is a danger that this could be misinterpreted; there is a risk that the discourse of ‘grit’ could be used to blame excluded and marginalized groups for their educational failures – a deficit approach to conceptualizing refugee attitudes to education. In the accounts of the refugees offered earlier, however, it is clear that individual determination and refusal to give up against enormous odds were an important factor in their ability to access education. Acknowledging this is important since it refutes the idea that refugees are passive and helpless victims of circumstance, and reasserts the central role played by their agency in the favour of adverse events. However, it is not the case that it is the personal attributes of individuals that determine their success or failure in the education system. Rather, structural barriers and discrimination are of equal importance. In the case of these refugees, it is clear that their personal determination is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for success. Each of them emphasized the role played by luck in enabling them to grab rare opportunities, and of key people in helping them to overcome the very real barriers. They chanced upon an email, they met a person who was willing to give up time and skill to support them, they happened to know someone within the United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) who gave them advice; circumstantial factors appeared in every narrative, thereby precluding the conclusion that the responsibility for success or failure lies with individuals alone. This study does nevertheless suggest that cultivating ‘grit’ could be helpful. Duckworth et al. (2007) define ‘grit’ as ‘perseverance and passion for long-term goals. Grit entails working strenuously towards challenges, maintaining effort and interest over years despite failure, adversity, and plateaus in progress’ (2007: pp. 1087–1088). There is evidence that grit can be taught, largely through helping students to adopt a ‘growth mindset’ (Dweck 2006). A growth mindset is fostered through encouraging and praising effort rather than ability, by

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  121 encouraging students to see their successes as a result of their hard work and persistence rather than their innate skills. A growth mindset sees failure as an opportunity to learn, and as reason for redoubled hard work. Whilst I want to emphasize that I am certainly not suggesting that mindset alone will offer success to refugees, it is clear that fostering this is a responsibility of all those working with refugees. This includes higher education institutions that admit refugees. If their own academic cultures implies that those in higher education are ‘high-ability’ students, a fixed mindset is being promoted that could undermine refugees’ grit and resilience. Maringe et al. (2017) examine measures that could be taken to promote grit in refugee communities. These include measures that promote economic independence; attempts to foster communication with communities back in the country of origin; the ability to network; and opportunities to access necessary resources. These four factors resonate with the accounts of the participants in this study. Particular attention was put on the importance of networks in validating their ongoing commitment to obtaining an education. The support they received from within their own community was also crucial. Wilson-Strydom (2017) examines the resilience of students from marginalized groups suggesting that whilst ‘grit’ and ‘resilience’ have been used as part of a neo-liberal governmentality to ascribe individualized responsibility for failure to students from marginalized backgrounds, a more sophisticated approach to understanding resilience rests on understanding the interaction between social structure and individual agency. For Wilson-Strydom, resilience is not merely an internal capability; rather, there are external (social) constraints and enablers of this capability. In her study of South African students from deprived backgrounds who have accessed higher education, Wilson-Strydom analyses their educational narratives and identifies a number of external factors that operated as these constraints and enablers, including family, teacher, finance, schooling, religious beliefs and so on. Interestingly, a factor such as family attitudes or schooling might be an enabler for one student but a constraint for another. ­ Strydom-Wilson concludes that universities need to pay attention to acknowledging and addressing these constraints, rather than treating students as if they exist free of an external context and only their lives on campus are of significance. She further suggests that universities should actively harness the resilience of their students from marginalized communities in order to support them during their university lives. Much of the following discussion relates to issues of identity, and how these young people were able to acquire and retain a sense of themselves as educated individuals – or at least of people who were worthy of education. Again, this involves a rejection of the passive victim discourse that dominates public representations of refugees all too often. Transitions in identity are integral to the refugee experience, as being displaced from your country of origin also involves loss of the sources of identity embedded in your former community, such as language, community networks, culture and employment Although most research into the connections between education and refugee identity has focussed on

122  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey children (e.g., Bash and Zezlina-Phillips 2006), investigation of the relationship between the higher education experiences and identities of refugee students is not entirely new. Morrice (2013) reports on the experiences of four refugees accessing higher education in the UK, using the framework of Bourdieu’s work on forms of capital to theorize the relationship between learning and identify (Bourdieu 2004). Her participants were highly educated professionals in their country of origin, but the shift in their status to becoming refugees meant a loss of the cultural capital on which their status, and even identity, rested. The cultural capital (including qualifications) that offered them social privilege in their country of origin no longer, their cultural and professional knowledge lost value or was seen as irrelevant, and the status of being a refugee placed them into a symbolic position of disadvantage. She describes how her participants negotiated and challenged this positioning; as Morrice (2013) argues, examining the narratives of refugee students in higher education enables us to move beyond ‘victim’ constructions of their identities. The identity of being a refugee is an imposed label that is bureaucratically assigned to individuals (Zetter 1991), thereby standardizing and potentially stereotyping them. Although the intention behind the label may be benign – ­g iving access to some security and resources – it nevertheless operates as a locus of control. By contrast, education offers an alternative source of identity by giving an individual access to additional cultural resources. For a refugee attending an international university in Malaysia, this identity may rest on negotiation on membership of multiple cultural groups, both on and off campus. In view of this, it is suggested that Identity Negotiation Theory (Ting-Toomey 2015) – which examines how identity is achieved through such negotiation – is a helpful lens through which to examine the experiences of the research participants. Similarly, the theoretical framework adopted by Bash and Zezlina-Phillips is that of ‘borders’ (invoking Giroux’s (1992) concept of border crossings), noting that the refugee children in their study had to negotiate hybrid identities with the construction of identity being at the ‘border’ between these. The factors that impact on that negotiation are highlighted later. These factors are not intrinsically linked to every person’s identity, but are a result of the particular circumstances facing these refugees in Malaysia. For instance, the ways in which education is constructive of the identity of these young people is a result of it being in some sense ‘extraordinary’ for them to receive an education. Its significance in their lives is in part because of the inherent processes involved in being educated (or being exposed to new ideas of who you are, for example) and in part because to be a refugee in HE in Malaysia is so unusual at this point in time. If more refugees were to be enrolled in institutions, we would expect the social meaning ascribed to education to change. Maringe et al. (2017) stress that refugees who are in higher education can feel marginalized, and may view themselves as a drain on university’s resources. Similarly, the refugee students in this study expressed gratitude for an education that most students would take as a basic human right. Their statements of

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  123 appreciation suggested that they saw themselves as a burden on the university rather than as individuals who contribute to creating a vibrant intellectual community. It is imperative that higher education providers ensure that their refugee students receive the message that they are not mere recipients of charity, but are integral to any institution making claims to be truly international.

Contrasts among the participants Although there are commonalities between the stories, it is also important to acknowledge the contrasts between the different accounts. Sarr and Mosselson (2010) have shown that refugees are often treated by educators as if they were members of a single homogeneous group. This is perhaps a result of the ascription of this single label as the outcome of a bureaucratic process that has become increasingly politicized in recent years (Zetter 2007). However, these students are very different from one another. The most salient difference is the contrasting needs and challenges experienced by refugees coming from developed and undeveloped nations. The students from Myanmar and Somalia struggled with the cultural disconnect between higher education in Malaysia and the conceptualization of education held back home. Attitudes to education also differ by culture as well. Following Ferede (2012), it is crucial to recognize that refugees are not a single homogeneous group. Some of the participants in this study, such as Maran, emphasized that there was an important shared identity between them and refugees from other religions and nations, and that they felt a sense of solidarity because of their shared social exclusion. As seen earlier, the nature of this exclusion does mean that there are shared themes common to the refugees’ accounts. However, whilst acknowledging these, it is equally important to draw attention to the diversity of experiences. Young women from Somalia, such as Amaal and Jamilah, reported very different pressures upon them than the other participants, coming as they did from a culture in which basic literacy for women is not seen as a necessity. By contrast, Omran – who had been a university student in Syria – and Nurain – who had attended an international school in Sri Lanka – had always assumed that they would be educated to university level. The challenges faced by first-generation students at university are different to the challenges faced by those whose parents attended higher education, but whose qualifications are not necessarily recognized in their country of ­t ransition – or eventual resettlement. A second significant difference between the interviewees was therefore their socio-economic background, and related cultural differences that impacted on their ability to pursue tertiary education in Malaysia. Those who had come from privileged, middle-class backgrounds in their country of origin had suffered downward social mobility as a result of their forcible displacement; by getting an education, they were simply trying to get back to where they thought they rightfully should have been – Bethany’s narrative provides an instance of this belief. For several students, such as ­Bethany

124  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey and Omran, the idea that they had always ‘expected’ to obtain a degree was an important theme in their narrative. In such cases, these expectations were linked both to family expectations and to a wider context in which, prior to the conflict, they had inhibited a developed milieu in which higher education was the norm. By contrast, participants who had come from smallholdings in rural parts of Myanmar, and whose parents had little formal education, did not experience this sense of a fall; rather, they were somewhat overawed upon their arrival in the capital city of Kuala Lumpur, where – like Peter – they might be seeing buses and congestion for the very first time. This is an important dimension of difference, although its impact requires further research. Gans (2009) speculates that the pain of downward social mobility may lead to intense pressure being placed upon the next generation to recoup their parents’ losses through educational success. On the other hand, he acknowledges that the decline in status could also lead to demoralization. The students from Myanmar stand in sharp contrast to the theory that education might mean more to a middle-class refugee. Zaid, who had grown up in a refugee camp in Bangladesh and Maran, who lived on a village smallholding, would have been defying the odds had they got into university even in ­Myanmar. They came from the geographical (and ethnic) peripheries of the country. For them, it was the very experience of being a refugee that challenged their ­expectations – and so led them to pursue a higher education. Education seemed much more important, and offered the only possible escape, after the traditional ways of life of their communities had been shattered. Finally, the diverse experiences individuals have had in the process of becoming a refugee can be expected to impact on their ability to engage in education, and here there were sharp differences between the participants – some had witnessed violent deaths whereas others’ families had fled conflict areas before they were born. Maringe, Ojo and Chiramba (2017) examine the trauma suffered by refugee students and how this can impact on their experiences in higher education in South Africa. One of the issues that they highlight is the importance of distinguishing between refugee students and international students. They adopt a cultural perspective on trauma that recognizes that how people perceive an event and how they respond to something seen as traumatic is an aspect of their culture, and that universities should resist the notion that all refugees, regardless of cultural origin, will respond to any traumas they have experienced in the same way. Alongside this, they acknowledge the importance of a psychological approach to trauma, noting that post-traumatic stress disorder might lead some refugee students to avoid situations that trigger negative associations, for example skipping lectures if they feel threatened in large-group situations. Similarly, some of the refugees who told their stories earlier explained that they had faced mental health difficulties as a result of what they had seen and suffered – for example, Matthew had experienced depression, whilst Zaid had experienced flashbacks. Any adequate system of Higher Education for refugees needs to support students in overcoming such issues.

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  125 Research has demonstrated a number of factors that influence refugees’ ability to settle successfully elsewhere, including their ‘visibility’ – physical markers such as clothing and skin colour that may distinguish them from the local population (Colic-Peisker 2009). Again, this was an important contrast between the participants. For the young people interviewed in this book, being visible as refugees posed a threat, and they referred to the difficulties they had faced as a result. Maran was not physically visible as different to the taxi driver who felt contaminated by him, but his use of the Burmese language rendered him an outsider. Jamilah, by contrast, was unable to practise basic nursing procedures during her internship because of the colour of her skin. These young people knew it was safer to blend in; however, because of their origins they differed in their ability to do so. Having established this broad framework for the discussion, in the remainder of the chapter I will examine the ways in which the participants negotiated their identity in higher education. In contrast to the disempowered helpless identity of the ‘victim,’ the participants wanted to reassert their educated selves; their sense of their identity as well-educated people was central to their narratives. For example, Peter offered examples to reinforce his identity as one of the more educated members of his community – he stressed his success at school and also his renown in the local community for having memorized difficult sections of the Bible. This contrasted to his experience as a refugee when this cultural capital was no longer valued. Similarly, Bethany’s story focussed on how she had expected herself to get a doctorate, and how she was trying to catch up to where she felt she should have been in her expected life narrative as an educated person. The idea that the possible future self is integral to identity has been a strand of psychological theory for some time (see, for example, Cross and Markus 1991), and the case studies offer an insight into how this functions in a situation of social exclusion. Jamilah prioritized holding onto her future self as a qualified nurse over her physiological need for sustenance and shelter. In their edited collection, ‘The Cultural Production of the Educated Person,’ Levinson, Foley and Holland (1996) explore how the notion of what it means to be an educated person is culturally rooted – in Confucian societies, this includes filial piety whereas in other cultures it might involve being able to render traditional chants. Although their work is primarily focussed on schooling, its conclusions are no less applicable to HE, particularly as its expansion has increased its significance to social structures. Similarly, the refugee students we met were forced to re-evaluate their notion of what it meant to be educated in a number of ways – for Maran, this meant realizing that he was now in a world where only having completed high school was seen as being uneducated, whilst for Amaal it was questioning whether being educated was a value that applied only to men. The deliberately ambiguous title of Levinson, Foley and Holland’s (1996) book – alluding to the way in the educated person is a product of culture and yet being educated offers an increased role in the production of culture – is also alluded to by the participants. In Zaid’s concluding statement, he argued that being at university would enable him not only to become educated himself, but

126  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey also to make friends with people from around the world who, in turn, would be able to help him to challenge the current powerlessness of the Rohingya people. Bourdieu (1989) has shown the importance of educational institutions in distributing symbolic capital – in the form of qualifications but also in embodied forms of cultural capital – that enable dominant groups in a society to maintain their domination. The participants in the current study asserted in many ways that they saw their studies in higher education as a way of challenging their subjugation as refugees. For Zaid, working for HE for refugees was part of his campaigning work to empower his Rohingya community in Bangladesh and Malaysia. For Nurain, it was about returning to the middle-class journey that had been interrupted when she was forced to flee Sri Lanka. I will now examine eight aspects of the process of their identity negotiation in relation to higher education in more depth.

Familial identity A key feature of the students’ narratives was the intersection between their individual identity as learners and their familial identity, which brought a range of other pressures into their lives. Two sub-themes within their discussions of family were health and employment; a recurrent theme in many of the previous stories is the interplay between pressures to seek work, health emergencies and education. Employment and finance were, unsurprisingly, recurrent themes in the interviews. For any young person to access education, financing their studies can be a major barrier. For young refugees, this problem is exacerbated for a number of reasons: they may be unaccompanied and therefore without parental support; they often have significant family responsibilities, including financial obligations; and they may be expected to remit money to other family members overseas (Nunn et al. 2014). We have seen each of these pressures in the interviewees. Maran had travelled to Malaysia alone and had no parents to help support him during weekends or university vacations. Omran was the sole breadwinner for a family of five, due to the injuries his niece had suffered in Syria. Peter was financially supporting his sister during her pregnancy and confinement, and had to take a break from his studies as a result. Balancing work and other family responsibilities with study is a challenge for many refugees worldwide, including those studied by Crea and McFarland (2015) as they tried to complete a higher education Diploma in refugee camps in Africa. In Malaysia, the young refugees in this book had seen many of their friends try to juggle these pressures and abandon their studies as a result. Many of them, including Nurain, Maran, Peter and Zaid, had tried to take on community leadership roles where they could persuade other young refugees to take an education, but they were also anxious to stress that it would be unfair to blame their peers for dropping out. Zaid himself was taking a break from his studies; he had decided he needed to find a part-time course, so that he could

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  127 feed himself as well as attend lectures. His needs couldn’t be met by the conventional, full-time university experience which was all that he had been offered to date. A number of the participants had experienced a tension between pursuing their education and supporting family members through health difficulties. Health emergencies in the extended family are obviously not exclusive to refugees and asylum seekers, but they may have a greater frequency and salience in their lives. First, this is because of the exacerbation of health issues that is often attendant upon becoming a refugee. Second, their lack of access to adequate health care may compound the difficulties involved when a member of the family falls sick. The evidence concerning the health status of refugees is partial, at best, although that which is available unsurprisingly suggests a range of mental health issues as well as a prevalence of malnutrition and infections – in summary, the stressful experience of forced displacement is associated with a range of health problems and a lowered life expectancy (Hollifield et al. 2002). Refugees are more likely to suffer from chronic diseases, for reasons as disparate as language barriers to accessing health care to the challenge of maintaining a healthy and balanced diet in a new food environment with few resources (Wang et al. 2016). Yet their families are also isolated from the support networks that may help them to cope with illness and death. In the case of the students we met in the previous chapters, Andrew had had to cope with his mother’s death in a foreign country – but was touched to receive support and financial assistance from his co-workers. Omar had also suffered bereavement with the loss of his mother, and this had been exacerbated by a feeling that her death would have been preventable had she been able to access adequate health care. The implications of these health problems for the integration of support services for refugees need to be considered. It is pointless to offer a young person an education if their health needs are not addressed first. Reed and Barbosa (2017) point out that public health concerns in relation to refugees have tended to focus on screening them for communicable diseases. However, their data from US refugees suggest that disparities exist across multiple health outcomes, and that support for refugees needs to acknowledge these wider issues. For example, Fazel and Betancourt (2017) have argued that preventive measures to address mental health needs of refugees should be a priority in countries of resettlement. Mental health issues did not surface frequently in the interviews, although it should be noted that the young people were not directly asked about any mental health problems that they had experienced. Nevertheless, it was clear that many of these young people had been through extremely traumatic experiences, such as Zaid who had seen his best friend shot dead by the Bangladeshi police and Peter who described his terror as the Burmese military led his father and him up into the hills. This is in line with previous research, which suggests that rates of post-traumatic stress among young people in some refugee communities may exceed 50% (Betancourt et al. 2015). It is clear, then, that any attempt to offer

128  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey higher education to refugees must include support for their mental well-being and that institutions must anticipate that this might impact on their studies. Access to suitably trained professionals could be crucial.

Family identity: values and support All of the participants bar one emphasized the importance of the support they had received from their families in enabling them to hold on to their educational dreams. This finding echoes Dryden-Peterson’s (2012) suggestion that refugee families are aware of the protective value of education, citing examples of parents selling their own food rations to fund their children’s education. Family support had been important in a number of ways, not least financial; however, more emphasis was placed by participants upon the importance of their family members valuing education. This is unsurprising, and echoes what other research tells us about access to education for disadvantaged groups, and a key factor to supporting it. It is well evidenced that, in a range of contexts, migrant groups view education as a route to social mobility, and that this may lead to an increase value put upon educational opportunities. For example, in a study of the daughters of Vietnamese refugees in the USA, Zhou and Bankston (2001) pointed to the pressure that was placed on them to succeed at school. This was not a reflection of a rejection of gendered roles, but rather a reflection of the greater family control that continued to be exercised over young women than young men (Zhou and Bankston 2001). Similarly, in Stevenson and Willott’s (2007) study of refugee youth in the UK, many of the parents valued education either because they had obtained qualifications themselves in their country of origin, or because they saw education as a route to social mobility – in particular, as an escape from poverty. Although Stevenson and Willott (2007) argue that young refugee students may have less direct support from their families than UK students, either because they are unaccompanied or because their families do not understand the educational system, neither of these was pointed to as a limitation of support by the young people in the current study. By contrast, whilst these factors also applied to the refugee students in Malaysia, they were emphatic that their families had supported them in other ways. Maran had travelled to Malaysia alone and had had no assistance from his family in figuring out how to access an international university, but he was clear that family support had been crucial to his educational journal; from a young age, his mother had instilled a belief in the value of education, whilst his cousin who was already settled in the USA was helping him financially. For Amaal, her brother had been decisive in persuading her mother that a girl should be allowed to get an education, and in sharing his literacy skills with her from a young age. Family support for the refugee students, therefore, came in many forms. The only counterexample among the small group of students whose stories form the basis of this analysis was Matthew, who explained that his family had pressured him to abandon his educational plans. However, he had been supported by a couple from outside his community whom he had

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  129 come to regard as his ‘guardians,’ suggesting that in some respects they were substituting for this kind of family support. The fact that the overwhelming majority of the refugees that I interviewed indicated that they had received extensive family support despite the financial hardship that their relatives faced emphasizes that we should avoid implicitly assuming a deficit model of the families of disadvantaged students. Following Gofen (2007), I note that whilst much research has tended to suggest that disadvantaged youth attend tertiary institutions despite their families, the reality for the participants was that they engaged in higher education largely because of their family’s support. Having said this, Ferede (2012), in a literature review of research into refugee education in Canada, notes that refugees there are less likely to access higher education than other migrant groups, and that this seems to be a consequence of a misapprehension of the costs and benefits of getting a degree. It is clear, then, that family support is linked to the importance of providing thus families with clear and accurate information that can inform their support. The work of Gofen (2007) offers some insightful parallels with the stories in this book. Gofen (2007) examines first-generation university students in the USA, arguing that their families are, by definition, exceptional, with a view to identifying whether there is a common underlying mechanism that enabled them to break the norm. Rather than following the research norm of comparing these families with those of other college students, she argues that it would be more helpful to compare them to those families in which no one has ever attended university. She found that all of them saw at least one member of their family as instrumental in their educational break-through, rather than teachers, schools or any other element of the education system. There were three elements of this: first, their family took a long-term perspective, planning for education and investing in it for the sake of the future; second, strong family relationships or a family role model (a sibling or parent) had played a part; lastly, parental values signalled a very clear importance to education – for example, by always finding the money for educational resources even when they couldn’t afford basic items for the home. She draws on the concept of ‘family capital’ to conceptualize the contribution of these families, arguing that they were a resource that was crucial in enabling these students to access higher education. This framework fits with the refugee students I interviewed for the current study. Although their families were typically unable to support them in their university applications, their choice of courses or their financial needs, the three themes Gofen (2007) identifies of the long-term time-frame, the interpersonal relationships and the family values have resonance here. For example, Jamilah described how her mother would always find the money to pay the school fees for her and her sister in Kenya, exemplifying the long-term investment in education. The role of key relationships to the students has resonance with the accounts of many, including Dalir who felt that he could never give up because he wanted to be a good role model to his younger brother. The value placed on education by their families is echoed in the accounts of most of these young refugees, with

130  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey Bethany being among these, her mother determined that her daughter should attain the education that she had been denied. The concept of family capital, and the three dimensions to it, is a valuable concept to consider when devising measures to support refugee access to education. Whilst Morrice (2007) has argued that a social capital approach to conceptualizing refugee education suggests that provision should be less individualized and more focussed on offering social learning opportunities, the concept of family capital similarly implies that to educate an individual alone is insufficient. Institutions therefore offering educational opportunities to refugees should pay attention to all of their family and social networks as well.

Religious identity In a special issue of the Journal of Refugee Studies on the role of religious belief and practices in refugees’ lives, Gozdziak and Shandy (2002) pointed out that whilst the role of religion in refugees’ lives is sometimes narrowly equated with its role in perpetuating conflicts and persecution, its importance in sustaining them through their displacement process is often neglected. By contrast, they argue that religion helps refugees to cope with trauma, and that the establishment of religious organizations in a land of resettlement both offers a sense of continuity with their old community and signals a commitment to a new homeland. Unfortunately, their special issue did not consider the relationship between religion and education for refugee communities. As a result, the stories in this book add to our understanding of the role of religion in refugee education. Religion features heavily in all of the previous accounts. It was a common reason for persecution in their country of origin, but was also cited by participants from every religion as an important source of optimism that enables them to defy the odds and remain in education. In Jamilah’s story, religion played a key role in facilitating her continuing to study at a time when she was homeless and had no money for food. In Andrew’s account, he turned to prayer and the Bible when he felt that he was faced by extraordinary circumstances beyond his capacity to cope. This echoes the findings of researchers across a range of contexts who have found that both religious practice and religious belief serve to protect marginalized young people from educational failure. For example, in a study of disadvantaged young people in the USA, Sikkink and Hernández (2003) found that the religious activity of both parents and young people themselves was correlated with higher grades and better behaviours. Toldson and Anderson (2010) obtained similar findings for African American students, with parental involvement, school behaviour and grades all being positively correlated with religious belief and participation. Other researchers, such as Regnerus (2000) have also found a correlation between religiosity and educational outcomes, although Regnerus found that this effect was approximately equal for both disadvantaged and more affluent students.

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  131 We should be wary of jumping to conclusions; the current study does not include any data that suggest that support the suggestion that these educational success stories were more religious than other young refugees in Malaysia. It is possible that religion would feature as heavily in the accounts of educationally unsuccessful refugees. After all, it is true that previous studies have suggested that the process of becoming a refugee may increase the salience of religion in people’s lives by, for example, binding them more closely to the religious organization that aids their arrival in a new land (Mayer 2007). However, the salience of religion in the young people’s accounts does suggest that this is an area that merits further investigation. I have discussed the impact of health issues on refugees’ educational trajectories in a separate section earlier. However, it is worth noting that these factors may be related. There is emerging evidence that a strong belief system offers some protection against post-traumatic stress disorder and other mental health difficulties that may result from refugees’ experiences (Brune et al. 2002).

Networked identity (a) the role of the internet In this and the following sections, I shall consider the importance of different kinds of networks in the students’ identities. In this section I shall focus on virtual networks, whilst the succeeding section will focus on offline relationships. This will be followed by a section considering the way that the other people refugees and asylum seekers encounter can impact on their educational journeys. The internet performs at least two roles in the previous stories – it both offers a source of identity and it offers material support and information. In this section, I shall explore further its role as a source of identity, arguing that the internet supports their identity in at least three ways – it offers a means to escape the potentially disempowering identity of being a refugee; it enables individuals to forge connections to other communities and identities; and finally it enables them to practice alternative selves in the virtual world. Slater (2002) has explored the ways in which the internet poses new possibilities for identity, arguing that the Internet has posed the possibility of entirely new relationships and identities, constituted within new media, and in competition with ostensibly non-mediated, older forms of relationship. (Slater 2002: p. 533) Slater continues by asserting that detachment from offline context is precisely what grounded the greatest claims for online sociality as both a vehicle for liberating social order and facilitating group effort. (Slater 2002: p. 534)

132  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey In the previous accounts, the internet allowed access to competing identities to the ‘victim’ narrative that prevailed in their offline lives. These refugees were able to hold onto their dreams through their online life, as it offered them an equality they were unable to achieve in the real world. Online courses were pursued by some students as a way for them to continue to have a student identity when their studies were abruptly ended by war or conflict. For others (such as Jamilah), the internet enabled them to feel connected to their home country and to others who share their vision of change through education. More pragmatically, for Omran the internet provided creative ways to earn money. For other students, it was a vital source of information in a new land. When active in the online world, a person is dis-embedded from the offline world where they might be a refugee, an outsider, a person in transition, and is connected to new identities. These new identities are disembodied; physical features such as gender, age and ethnicity become a matter of choice rather than destiny. Identity online is a performance; through social media, we actively and self-consciously construct an identity, and practise being alternative selves. For Jamilah, the emails that she sent to key Somalian activists represented an active choice to connect with an identity from which she had been geographically distanced. For Dalir, the online world enabled him to keep in touch with other refugees at different stages of resettlement even as he was integrated into life in Australia. Another interesting dimension of the relationship between the online and identity is that for some participants the virtual world became a way to segue into offline identities, such that the two eventually converged. So, Bethany enrolled into Coursera modules as a way of establishing her identity as a Higher Education student, a means by which she could ‘keep clinging to hope’ that her imagined future identity as a postgraduate student could still be achieved. Gifford and Wilding (2013) argue that the experience of becoming a refugee and being resettled in Australia meant that their participants arguably had a greater need for online communications than other young people in order to repair the consequent social and cultural disruptions. For the Karen youth they studied, the online world offered an escape from being defined as passive subjects and an opportunity to replace traumatic memories with a more romanticized view of ‘home.’ The importance of the online world in these accounts suggests that innovations that try to open up ‘connected learning’ for refugees may be extremely helpful. However, this conclusion needs to be treated with caution, as there remain many refugees who will not be able to access such forms of education. Peter had been part of an experiment in online education and stressed that there were many barriers to refugees accessing online education – he pointed out that both the necessary time and the necessary linguistic skills to access online materials are scarce resources in refugee communities. Nevertheless, online developments may be able to capitalize displaced people.

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  133

Networked identity (b) the role of the UNHCR As the UNHCR is the principal agency affording assistance to refugees and asylum seekers, and as it featured heavily in the stories reported earlier, it is important to critically examine its role in the lives of these young people. The UNHCR is dependent on the funding of developed countries and the goodwill of its host nations for its operations and for ensuring that refugee rights are respected. In Malaysia, its presence is uneasily accepted by the government. Consequently, it has proved unable to guarantee the rights of the many refugees living in the country. Internationally, the UNHCR has received criticism for its lack of accountability and the opacity of its procedures for granting refugee status (Fresia and von Känel 2016). Some researchers, such as Loescher, have pointed to the often slow and inadequate response made by the UNHCR to refugee crises (Loescher 2001). In Malaysia, its anxiety to stay on good terms with the government has meant that the UNHCR is reluctant to criticize government policy and has strained its relations with some influential Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs) (Hoffstaedter 2015). Moreover, as its funding has fallen in recent years, UNHCR Malaysia is struggling to cope with the numbers of asylum seekers needing to be processed (Hoffstaedter 2015). The participants did express some criticisms of the role played by the UNHCR in their stories, mainly noting its slowness in giving them formal recognition as refugees and then in organizing resettlement. However, several were also appreciative of its role, and in particular of the sensitivity of individual case officers in handling their stories. However, the UNHCR featured more heavily in their accounts as a crucial network that they had relied upon in order to remain in education. For some participants, being connected to the UNHCR gave them privileged information – people working as translators for the UNHCR (like Andrew) or working as head teachers for UNHCR learning centres (like Omran) were those who received information about new educational opportunities opening up in higher education. For Jamilah, it was the award of a scholarship from the ­U NHCR in Kenya that gave her the chance to complete her secondary education. Matthew was one of those for whom happenstance in stumbling upon information from the UNHCR played a pivotal role. These stories emphasize that ongoing scrutiny of the role of the UNHCR is important, and they also suggest that the UNCHR’s procedures for disseminating information to refugees require revision.

Networked identity (c) pity and gratitude Other, often-accidental networks also featured highly in the previous accounts. The participants were thankful for the refuge that Malaysia has offered them; many of them used their interview as an opportunity to place on the record their appreciation of other individuals who had assisted them. They wanted this to be formally recognized. They acknowledged friends and teachers who had

134  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey encouraged them; people who had given up their time to assist them with their English; people who had helped to find them work. Andrew cried as he remembered how his Malaysian co-workers had taken up a collection to pay for his mother’s funeral. The interviewees also took the opportunity to formally thank people at their university; they praised both their lecturers and the university authorities for their assistance. However, whilst they appreciated the work of many individuals, they resented the sense that they should feel gratitude for basic rights and that they should feel dependent in this way. When Bethany’s father had turned down a job that he had been unable to do because of his age, she had heard people complain about his ingratitude. Moreover, they objected to the discrimination they had experienced in Malaysia. Omran was angry that he was wasting his life waiting to be resettled instead of being able to get on with settling down like any other young Syrian man of his age. Maran felt that people in Malaysia had felt revulsion for refugees like him rather than pity. Andrew’s experience of discrimination had been more concrete; his boss had made constant deductions from his salary. Both of them, along with the other interviewees, stressed that they were simply asking that their basic human rights be respected. For Amaal, moving to America meant that at last she would be accorded the same rights as everyone else. Pity is asymmetrical (Halevi 2001) and can be a naïve and superficial expression of emotion. It sits within a deficit conception of the refugee – as someone who is weak and in need of care. The refugees in this book were not looking for pity, although some, such as Maran, thought that even that would be better than the contempt they had hitherto experienced. By contrast, what these young people needed was solidarity – a form of compassion that grows out of assumptions of equality (Zembylas 2017) whilst recognizing imbalances in power. Some of the interviewees described the process by which they had come to an understanding of the rights that they had. For most, the concept of a ‘refugee’ was not known to them until they became one themselves. Thereafter, they had had to learn that some basic rights they had hitherto taken were granted were now to be denied them. Maran described how he had planned to report an assault to the Malaysian police, until a friend dissuaded him by pointing out that he had no protection from crime as he was deemed to be an illegal immigrant. A different journey to an understanding of rights had been taken by Jamilah and Amaal; it was through their struggles as refugees that they had come to challenge the role ascribed in women in their communities, and to see themselves as having equal educational rights to men.

Being ordinary and being lucky One of the interesting aspects of the previous accounts is the way in which the ‘normal’ was constructed in these accounts. Participants wanted to be both normal and exceptional, reflecting the two needs of both aspiration and integration (Maringe et al. 2017). In the stories described earlier, some of the students described what some readers might consider to be exceptional journeys to reach

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  135 Malaysia as ‘normal.’ The overwhelming majority of the participants stressed that they themselves were ‘normal’ and that it was merely a particular aspect of their experience that had been ‘abnormal.’ Our unexamined preconceptions are able to escape critique because they are concealed in the cloak of common-sense, and one key aspect of this is that a refugee is ‘extraordinary’ in some way. Underpinning this are other unexamined concepts, such as the idea that people are linked to places, that identity is constructed in discourse as being somehow territorial (Brun 2001). Malkki (1992) has explored this assumption, arguing that this assumption infuses the metaphors that we use to describe a person’s origins – their ‘roots’ to their ‘motherland.’ Indeed, not just the individual but the entire culture is linked to a geographical place, as we describe people as ‘indigenous,’ suggesting that the culture is linked to place in an almost botanical way. The impact of this is to pathologize those who are displaced or uprooted (Malkki 1992), so that the refugee is inherently problematized. Malkki charts how refugees have consequently been constructed in various texts as morally questionable or untrustworthy, including in the discipline of refugee studies itself: They are not ordinary people, but represent, rather, an anomaly requiring specialized correctives and therapeutic interventions. It is striking how often the abundant literature claiming refugees as its object of study locates ‘the problem’ not in the political conditions or processes that produce massive territorial displacements of people, but, rather, within the bodies and minds (and even souls) of people categorized as refugees. (Malkki 1992: p. 33) Malkki concludes that it is not displacement per se that causes the trauma and challenges our young people faced – a view that pathologizes refugees as abnormal. Rather, she suggests, it is the socio-political context in which displacement occurs that renders their experiences as extraordinary. I concur with this view, noting that it implicitly attributes responsibility for impact of displacement on refugees upon the countries, institutions and people that they encounter during their transition. In many of the stories, the students talked about being ordinary. They wanted to assert their right to be ordinary. They knew that refugees are viewed as extraordinary in some way. Many had thought that this situation could never conceivably happen to them – until it did. This was illustrated when Omran talked about his horror about becoming a recipient of a food basket. The discourse of ‘being ordinary’ is a part of a process of identification; according to ethnomethodology, it asserts a membership category (Paoletti and Johnson 2007). Paoletti and Johnson (2007) assert that ‘being ordinary’ is not a state of being, but is the ongoing product of ‘constant work’ (Paoletti and Johnson 2007, p. 91). In making their claims to be ‘ordinary,’ the young people whose stories you have read are rejecting an attribution of ‘otherness.’ They are painfully aware that they are viewed as outsiders in Malaysia. Peter, for instance, said that he would

136  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey be happy to stay in Malaysia if he could just be accepted as ‘normal.’ Dalir, now resettled in Australia, was actively trying to create a sense of belonging in his new land, by giving his time to help Australian students. As Yap, Byrne and ­Davidson (2010) suggest, he was thereby drawing on a counter-discourse, that of the ‘good citizen.’ In rejecting this otherness, these young people are resisting the fear of difference that has dominated representations of refugees in populist politics (Gale 2004). As Gale (2004) has demonstrated, in media representations the ‘otherness’ of refugees is often conflated with the uncivilized and sometimes even the barbaric – and is implicitly linked to issues of race. One particular aspect of asserting their ordinariness was the claim that they had simply been ‘lucky.’ For all of the refugees in this study, accessing education depended on luck in accessing information. All of the refugees in the study stumbled on opportunities rather than having the information systematically disseminated to them. The system of education, and what was accessible to refugees, often seemed impenetrable to them, and they had to actively work to understand how to negotiate the system. In a study of young refugees aged 16–20 in the UK, Stevenson and Willott (2007) echo the findings here. They found that a lack of knowledge about the educational system in the UK hampered the young people’s ability to fulfil their educational aspirations. They were unclear about whether they were entitled to any financial support, found it hard to navigate a complex and unknown application system, and were bewildered by the array of courses and institutions on offer. Rather than taking their sense of being lucky at face value, however, it is important to critically analyse its meaning in their lives. For Bauman (1996), luck in personal narratives for the post-modern adult is part of a conception of the ‘world-as-play.’ It is important to note that this is a conception of luck and the world that is directly at odds with the luck described by the participants. For them, luck is anything but a playful game; if anything, it is a desperate gamble, in which the odds are stacked against them and the stakes are high. The ascription of luck is both enabling and, in a sense, repressive. The notion of ‘luck’ is entwined with our personal identity. Luck serves to diminish the distancing effects of being among a small minority. The idea of ‘there but for the grace of God go I’ enabled these young people to retain a sense of community with other refugees who have had to drop out of education. By emphasizing that their success was down to luck rather than to any intrinsic difference, they were able to maintain solidarity with other refugees. On the other hand, a discourse of luck implies a lack of intentionality and thus diminishes a sense of agency (Shragai 2017). Loveday (2017), in a study of fixed-term academics in HE, notes that ‘luck’ remains an under-theorized concept in sociology. The subjects of her study tended to ascribe success to luck but to individualize failure, thereby doubly denying positive agency to themselves. Similarly, Matthew blamed himself for not working hard enough when he failed an academic module. When Amaal managed to get into university after just a few years of formal education, she found it hard to explain how that had happened. Instead of concluding that she must be different from others in

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  137 some way, she emphasized that she had shown others that it was possible for them as well. Yet, in order to be resettled, these young people had to convince others that their experiences are abnormal. Being recognized a refugee means to construct an autobiography that emphasizes victimhood. In order to be high priority for resettlement, they needed to demonstrate that, even within their community, their experiences had not been ordinary. Being abnormal or extraordinary is therefore integral to being a refugee – and indeed their acceptance seems to depend on that fact. For countries of resettlement, the idea that refugees might be ordinary is threatening. If they are ordinary, then their terrifying experiences could equally happen to me. It is easier to believe that becoming a refugee or asylum seeker is something that only happens to people who live a long way away and who have a different colour skin from your own. Refugees are therefore in a double bind; they are feared by their hosts for being different from them, but even more frightening is the possibility that they are just the same.

Belief in education Before concluding this exploration of the way in which educational identity was managed and negotiated by the participants, it is important to note that every one of them shared a core belief. Every participant was marked by a belief in the transformative potential of education. This was adhered to almost to the point of being irrational, and meant that they didn’t abandon education even when the cost of pursuing jeopardized their fundamental safety and well-being. Jamilah pursued education over nourishment. Omar continued to attend school even when he had to go armed with a gun. This willingness to pursue education upon arrival in a country in which education is seen as a route to social mobility could be seen as an example of what Ponzoni et al. (2017: p. 228) describe as the ‘extreme will to adapt’ of the refugees they studied. However, I suggest an alternative interpretation. I posit that this demonstrates that refugees remain above all things people – people with values, dreams and ambitions. In summary, the idea that basic survival is prioritized over education and that becoming a refugee somehow reduces a person to pursuing food and shelter above all else is fundamentally challenged in these accounts.

Conclusion Before the expansion of higher education in recent decades, higher education for refugees was seen as an unaffordable luxury. As Dryden-Peterson (2012) points out, many seminal documents calling for education for refugees omitted all mention of access to higher education. She estimates that in 2012, only 4% of the UNHCR’s education budget was allocated to scholarships for tertiary education. Donors and NGOs alike tended to see HE as lower priority than primary and secondary education, with its focus on basic literacy and numeracy skills. Dryden-Peterson offers three arguments why HE for refugees should

138  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey receive higher priority. First, she argues that involved in tertiary education protects refugee youth from involvement in military activities and supports work on counter-terrorism and peace-building. Second, enabling refugees to access higher education is integral to enabling them to actively rebuild their lives and to fulfil their human potential. Third, if countries are to rebuild after conflict, they will need a highly educated workforce – teachers, doctors and lawyers, for example, are essential to creating a stable future. When HE was primarily for elites, pragmatics for many working with refugees meant a focus on basic education. In countries with protracted refugee situations such as Thailand, education for refugees has been seen as politically inconvenient; for example, there is concern that offering higher education opportunities would lead to a brain drain of more educated refugees, leaving the country of transition with a surfeit of less-educated refugees, or that it could lead to better articulated and informed calls for independence and autonomy in Myanmar (Zeus 2011). However, the ‘massification’ of higher education means that there is a growing consensus that tertiary education is a humanitarian necessity (Zeus 2011). Despite this, Stevenson and Willott (2007) point out that in many countries refugee students continue not to be seen as a target group for widening university participation, and indeed are often not accorded any recognition for the additional challenges that they might face. By treating them the same as other domestic students, and ignoring the additional barriers that they face, universities are in effect disadvantaging young people who have been forcibly displaced from their country of origin. If we see modern education systems as inextricably connected to the process of state formation (Green 2013) then the position of the refugee within this is ambivalent at best; refugees may move on and may not contribute to the economy or social stability of the country in which they are educated. Yet the internationalization of higher education is part of a trend to ‘de-nationalise’ parts of society, including economic relationships and cultural norms (Enders 2004). Within this framework, for universities to extend a welcome to refugee students who are not settled in a country of transition seems logical, even necessary. It is, arguably, part of an emerging new system of the higher educational governance linked to globalization as identified by Enders (2004). In other words, educating refugees and asylum seekers should be seen as an integral part of what a modern university in a globalized world should do. When the participants talked about the role of their higher educational experiences in their lives, their accounts resonate with transformative learning theory (Mezirow 1997). Transformative learning theory, based on the work of Mezirow, argues that learning can fundamentally transform learners. The concept has been developed by other analysts of adult education (including Dirkx – see Dirkx, Mezirow and Cranton 2006) for understanding the profound effect that lifelong learning can have on members of disadvantaged and socially excluded groups. It has been argued that transformative learning can alter the

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  139 belief systems, the lifestyle and the identity of learners. Transformative learning theory provides a framework for educators to ensure that people like those we met in this book have access to the kind of education they are seeking. According to Mezirow, transformative learning theory suggests that the educator should foster learner autonomy, encourage dialogue on controversial issues, use discovery approaches to learning and foster an environment based on mutual trust with opportunities for reflection. The educator should be empathic, and function as a provocateur and a facilitator of discussion rather than assuming the role of authority in the classroom (Mezirow 1997). Contemporary approaches to higher education fit well with these needs. In conclusion, universities can and should contribute to the education of refugees and asylum seekers. The stories of the young people we have met in this book are testament to the transformations a handful of universities are already starting to achieve. This is the start of a global movement to open up higher education to displaced people. How will you, our reader, become part of this social change?

Implications and recommendations Recommendations to higher education providers This book has given voice to the lucky few refugees and asylum seekers who have managed to access higher education in Malaysia. All of them knew that they needed support from key people to enable them to achieve their goals. What are their requests for support from higher education providers? • •

•

•

•

•

Open your doors to refugees and asylum seekers. They will enrich your intellectual community. Remember that refugees and asylum seekers are different from your international students. Be aware that refugees themselves are a heterogeneous group. Treat your refugee students as ordinary; do not identify them as different to others, but allow them to decide for themselves whether and when to disclose that aspect of their identity to others. Acknowledge the constraints on refugee students. Develop course structures that enable students to support their families while they study. Allow interruptions of study. Don’t treat people as if only their student identities matter. Consider development of distance courses that may better suit the time and financial constraints of refugee students, and help them to connect them with more empowering sources of identity. Work with families. Educate them about the nature of your courses and how students benefit from studying with you. Don’t assume that there is a shared understanding of the nature of higher education.

140  Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey •

• •

Support transition to university for these students. Offer bridging courses to refugee communities. Support refugee students through any educational culture shock. Offer health care, both physical and mental. Provide access to experts in the diagnosis and management of post-traumatic stress disorder. Send out the message that that refugees and asylum seekers are an asset to any institution committed to creating a vibrant international environment, not a burden on the institution.

Recommendations to campaigners for refugee rights Many readers of this book may want to support the right of refugees and asylum seekers to an education. Some of you may be established campaigners in the field; others may be people who chanced on this book out of passing interest or because it was required reading for a course of study, but who would like to know what they can do to support this cause. What did our young people want the general public to do to help? • • • •

•

•

Remember that refugees are not helpless, but they are in need of help. Sponsor a student. Financial donations make a huge difference. They enable refugees to support their families and get enough to eat while they study. Remember that time is a scarce resource for refugees and asylum seekers as is money. Don’t assume a refugee worker will have a day off each week. Network and mentor. Refugees and asylum seekers may not understand the education system in a new country. Help them to navigate their new world. Don’t blame. Refugees and asylum seekers are often juggling multiple other responsibilities alongside their education. Those who need to take a break, or who struggle, aren’t lacking in some way. They need to be given time to be ready to study. Your support will be remembered. You can change a life.

Recommendations to refugees and asylum seekers The young people in this volume wanted to help other refugees and asylum seekers to get the opportunities they have managed to access. Many were actively involved in supporting young people in their communities who were studying hard to follow in their footsteps. What is their advice to other refugees and asylum seekers like themselves? • •

You deserve an education. It is your right, just like every other young person on this planet. Develop your skills. Enrol in online courses. Develop your language skills. Read around the subject you are interested in studying. Put yourself in a position where you can grab opportunities whenever they appear.

Analysis and conclusion by Lucy Bailey  141 • • • •

Become a leader. Develop the communication skills you will need to persuade others that you are person they should support. Build up your networks. You never know who might be able to pass on information, put in a good word, or be in a position to help you. It’s not your fault if you fail. Luck plays a key role, and there is no reason why it couldn’t be you who succeeds next time. Never give up.

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Appendix I

UNHCR’s Education Strategy 2012–2016 emphasizes improving learning outcomes and making lifelong learning accessible for all, from early childhood education to secondary, higher and adult education. Access to higher education is one of the priorities, and needs to be considered within the continuum of the education cycle supported by UNHCR.

Given the large numbers of refugee students seeking tertiary education, their lack of resources, the insufficient opportunities for tertiary education in-country, the geographic isolation of camp-based refugees and their sometimes restricted mobility, greater use will be made of distance and virtual learning. While there are a variety of terms used to describe distance or virtual learning, this report adopts the term “connected learning” to highlight the benefits of educational programmes that connect refugees and margalized populations to accredited academic institutions and mentors. One key element of UNHCR’s strategy in connected learning is to expand opportunities for refugees by encouraging access to certified higher education courses through connected learning, facilitated by partnerships with academic institutions and providers with technical expertise in the sector. This roundtable, hosted by UNHCR Innovation and Education Unit, provided an opportunity to draw inspiration and wisdom from the experiences of several different initiatives offering connected tertiary education programmes that target refugee communities. Typically these programmes involve partnerships between an NGO in the Education Sector, and one or more universities either in the country of asylum or elsewhere. These innovative programmes have managed to create powerful dynamics and new synergies in refugee settings and in some cases within host communities. They have also led to a broader understanding of challenges related to technology and teaching-learning processes, curricula development, modes of delivery, academic collaboration, and cross-border certification that can inform future developments.

146  Appendix I This event also provided an opportunity to facilitate sharing amongst these stakeholders, and encouraged further networking. The face-to-face meeting was effective in building on existing bi-lateral and multilateral cooperation to maximise synergies and opportunities for connected learning expansion. Roundtable Objectives: 1 Share Knowledge on the current state of refugee education 4 Jointly Identify resilience and means for psychosocial support

2 A Common Understanding of roles and responsibilities to further facilitate coordination 5 Identify Joint opportunities for partnerships and advocacy

3 Identify Common Challenges encountered and ways to overcome them 6 Identify Potential synergies and areas of support

Situating Connected Learning with UNHCR’s Protection Mandate Within UNHCR, tertiary education is one of the priorities of the 2012–2016 Education strategy. The provision of education is one of the core components of UNHCR’s protection mandate and one of the key elements supporting durable solutions and development. Tertiary education enhances protection of youth, gives a sense of purpose, and facilitates integration by placing refugees at equal footing with non-refugee youth. Tertiary education includes all types of post-secondary education; including degree programmes at colleges and universities, as well as technical, vocational, professional and para-professional trainings that result in certificates and diplomas.

Continuum of Education If the ladder of educational opportunities is open, school pupils are increasingly motivated to complete primary and secondary school. The possibility of tertiary education encourages young people to enrol and complete secondary education. Tertiary programmes have a similar impact on demand for primary education. Tertiary education thus creates a pull factor which supports continuous learning.

Role-Model of Students Tertiary education also plays an important role in demonstrating the positive and meaningful contributions refugees can bring to their host society. Tertiary students

Appendix I  147 act as role-models for refugee youth, encouraging retention at schools, thus preventing early marriage and enrolment in armed forces. While this has a particularly important impact on encouraging female students, these programmes demonstrate how both females and males can become actors of change in their community.

Empowering Community Graduates of tertiary programmes help promote tolerance and peaceful co-­ existence, by applying their new skills and critical thinking within their community; becoming leaders for societal development both in the host country or their country of origin. Former graduates teach in schools, become community doctors, local engineers and also initiate businesses benefiting their communities.

What is Connected Learning? Connected learning is the process of transferring knowledge to learners (students) through the use of information communication technologies (ICTs), that enable more flexible learning not bound by the same time or geographical limitations that exist within traditional tertiary programmes. Connected learning often adopt a methodology of blended learning, whereby students have both face-to-face and digital interaction with instructors and/or tutors, as well as course material. Many connected learning programmes make use of technology components, such as the internet, video, CDs, DVDs, mobile phone, printed material, to mention a few, to accomplish learning. The flexibility enabled through connected learning is particularly relevant for refugee students. These programmes often do not have age limits for learners; they allow for additional time for courses; and they allow learners to study from their current location. Overcoming mobility limitations is of particular relevance for female students and those with specific needs. UNHCR is committed to develop opportunities to access certified higher education courses through connected learning. Face-to-face academic tutoring and mentoring is essential for the success of connected learning for refugees. The programmes also need to be carefully designed and implemented in collaboration with expert partners. UNHCR continues to advocate with Ministries of Education and local institutions to reduce barriers for refugees accessing tertiary education. These barriers include legal documentation, school certificates and admittances under the same conditions as national students.

How does Connected Learning Fit within the Existing UNHCR Tertiary Scholarship Programme (DAFI)? Action 4 of UNHCR Education Strategy (2012–2016) aims at increasing the number of young people following higher education courses. In 2013, UNHCR

148  Appendix I supported over 2,200 students to attend university through the German-funded DAFI scholarship programme. The DAFI (Albert Einstein German Academic Refugee Initiative) programme is a unique programme administered by UNHCR, providing academic scholarships to refugee students. The DAFI scholarships cover tuition fees, books, travel and subsistence allowances. It also provides support for seminar, workshop, and the validation of certificates. There are a limited number of students who can benefit from this type of support. In 2013, over 5,700 students applied for a DAFI scholarship and only 16% of the applicants were successful. The high per student costs of traditional scholarship programmes, like DAFI, limits the scalability of support. While this model of access to tertiary education is still vital, and will continue to be maintained, supporting connected learning programmes enables UNHCR to expand access and allow for a larger number of refugee students to pursue higher education. Connected learning also serves to mitigate some of the obstacles refugees face when acquiring access to tertiary education. These obstacles include a lack of resources, lack of opportunities in country of asylum, geographic isolation of camp-based refugees, and restricted mobility which constraints access for female students, students with families, or individuals with disabilities. The roundtable on connected learning provided an opportunity for UNHCR to connect and learn from actors working in this field. The following sections highlight some of the key discussions and good practices that were discussed. This information will serve as a reference for the preparation and guidance of future initiatives.

Programme Design Reflections Diversity of Connected Learning Models: Scholarship vs. non-scholarship models: Existing connected learning programmes have adopted different structures: some that support a scholarship model, where each student enrolled is budgeted for as an individual, with a set number of scholarships provided. In other scenarios, the scholarship model has proved ineffective for a large student population base, and thus the programme is viewed as a whole with the costs not being divided per individual but is calculated as for all programme components including facility resources and implementation support. Each model is dependent on the relationship to academic institutions and on the relationship to faculty (i.e. are professors volunteering their time during instruction). Each model has its strengths and is designed in relation to the funding support and contextual environment it works within. More information on the particularities of existing connected learning models in the Annex.

Appendix I  149 Considerations for Mentorship Programmes: •

•

• •

Programming must take into account the context and power relations that can exist between aspects of gender, ability, sexuality, and within staff/student power dynamics. There is a range of mentorship approaches that can be utilized at different stages of the learning process. These diverse approaches can include: group or individual, alumni or community members, and can also make use of various technological platforms such as Facebook and SMS. Mentors have to be as invested in the mentorship process as the mentees. Faculty should also be mentored, as this will facilitate a faster learning curve for those responsible for connected language instruction.

Considerations for the Use of Tech: •

•

•

•

•

• •

•

Issues of connectivity: While issues with the internet cannot always be avoided, preparing back up material on offline repositories such as books/ catalogues, USBs, DVDs, external hard-drives, or local servers can provide a solution. These materials can also be a good way of advertising the program, as well as cost effective ways to distribute material within the community. Outsourcing: Outsourcing the running of computer labs, or making use of available ICT centres or cyber cafes can assist with care, maintenance and cost of these centres. The decision to outsource or not is based on local criteria and assessment. Crowdsourcing: Crowdsourcing for maintenance of sites or development of materials (including translation) can also be a cost effective means of developing learning materials and internet sites, as well as a means to develop innovative and diverse content. Multifaceted approaches: Employing a diversity of approaches that utilize both offline and online sources (videos, catalogues, etc.) are highly advantageous and can provide a backup plan against internet interruptions, while also be dynamic and Open Source: Using and creating open source material/ software (where applicable) can assist in making learning materials accessible to those who are unable to afford them. Training: Both staff and students need to receive adequate training on how to use the educational online platforms. Partnership: Collaborations with the private sector can potentially assist in cost-effective business models for delivery of connected learning. For example, learning centres that can be used as an internet café during the evenings and used as learning centres for the rest of day, etc. Recycling: A small way to enhance the eco-system of connected learning is to provide livelihood trainings on computer repair, utilizing recycled

150  Appendix I computers from UNHCR and partner offices to ensure that individuals using computers are also able to support the care and maintenance of ICT learning centres.

Towards a Nexus of Connected Learning Actors: One of the main outcomes of the roundtable is recognition that the provision of higher education to refugees requires active collaboration between different connected learning actors – e.g foundations, organisations, institutions, businesses, NGOs and individuals -each of which bring key expertise and resources to any potential solution. In order to facilitate collaboration, round table participates identified that it is necessary to provide both a framework to enable potential actors to identify their role and how they might work effectively with others, and a network to facilitate the formation of coherent teams of actors to work towards the provision of higher education in any given circumstance. To aid in the formation of this network and the development of a framework/ guidance for connected learning programmes, the following roles and support requirements were identified by round table participants.

United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) UNHCR will work with partners to develop a framework, or guidance for connected learning programmes. They will also assist with the coordination of partners to facilitate information and best practice sharing; as well as provide a platform to facilitate a dialogue between education expertise and protection angles. UNHCR will also advocate with universities and other post-secondary institutions to support and establish connected learning programmes.

Jesuit Commons Higher Education at the Margins (JC:HEM) JC:HEM will work with UNHCR to facilitate the co-development of adequate frameworks (partnerships and educational) for the delivery of higher education for refugees.

The Borderless Higher Education for Refugee Project (BHER) BHER will work with partners to engender development and sustainability of connected learning. In addition they identify that there are some short term gaps that UNHCR can address such as food and female sanitary wear. They also would hope that in the long term UNHCR would consider BHER as an extension of their secondary school programme.

Australian Catholic University (ACU) ACU welcomes the opportunity to engage with and share our decade of experience with other participants in the field of delivering tertiary education

Appendix I  151 to refugees and internally displaced populations. There is a need for research to identify and better serve community needs through collaborative partnerships and a range of approaches, including technology, to deliver culturally appropriate pedagogy. ACU is eager to participate in a network to explore these issues.

InZone InZone agrees to contribute its techno-pedagogical know-how and field experience to the development of virtual learning and virtual learning environments in the field. By carefully documenting the implementation of virtual learning in the field they are working towards best practice guidelines for developing different distance learning and open courseware options that allow refugee learners to reach their higher education objectives.

African Virtual Univeristy (AVU) AVU will bring the experience of setting up online institutions in the “deep field,” as well as developing open source courses to the Nexus. AVU has already developed open educational resources that are available and can be used.

Swiss Humanitarian Organization (SIHO) SIHO identifies that they are new to this field and need to partner with organizations with previous experience and knowledge. They will contribute partnerships with universities, and propose to pilot the design and construction of a new learning space adapted to connected learning needs in camps. At the same time they will work to identify partners in Africa and in the Middle East, and to advocate for the Sorbonne to sponsor students from camps.

ANNEX: PROGRAMME BRIEFS

The African Virtual University (AVU) The African Virtual University (AVU) is a Pan African Intergovernmental ­Organization established by charter with the mandate of significantly increasing access to quality higher education and training through the innovative use of information communication technologies. A Charter, establishing the AVU as an Intergovernmental Organization, has been signed so far by eighteen (18) A ­ frican Governments Kenya, Senegal, Mauritania, Mali, Cote d’Ivoire, ­Tanzania,

152  Appendix I ­ ozambique, Democratic Republic of Congo, Benin, Ghana, Republic of M Guinea, Burkina Faso, Niger, South Sudan, Sudan, The Gambia, Guinea-Bissau and Nigeria. The AVU has its headquarters in Nairobi, Kenya and a Regional office in Dakar Senegal with Host-Country Agreements and Diplomatic Status with the two governments. The AVU Business Plan 2009–2014 has two main thrusts: (a) educational and support services; and (b) development services. The educational and support services include AVU diploma and certificate programs and courses, 3rd party programs and courses, eConferences and virtual meetings, webinars, and custom content development. The development services aims at building the capacity of AVU Partner Institutions (PIs) with an objective of increasing access to quality education through the following activities: updating and developing content; Open Educational Resources (OER) Development; AVU Capacity ­Enhancement Program (ACEP); set up/upgrade ODeL centers; developing professional networks through Communities of Practices; Research and ­Development; and Quality Evaluation and Benchmarking. The AVU has contributed to training more than 43,000 students since its inception in 1997. The greatest asset of the AVU is its ability to work across borders and language barriers in Anglophone, Francophone and Lusophone A ­ frica. As the leading Pan African eLearning Network, the AVU has acquired the largest eLearning network in Anglophone, Francophone and Lusophone Africa with more than 53 Partner Institutions in 27 countries. The AVU is implementing a Multinational Project, Phase II (2012–2016), funded by the African Development Bank. The project builds on the successfull implementation of the first phase (2005–2011). The overall objective of the project is to strengthen the capacity of the AVU and a network of 27 Universities drawn from 21 countries, to deliver and manage quality. ICT integrated education and training opportunities. The project will have the following activities: (1) Establishment of new Open Distance and eLearning (ODeL) Centres and/or upgrading of exiting AVU Learning Centres as well as Internet connectivity provision at AVU Partner Institutions; (2) Development and/or improvement, and delivery of four ICT integrated Programs: AVU Capacity Enhancement Program (ACEP); Teacher Education (TE), Computer Science (CS), and Peace and Conflict Resolution; (3) Gender Mainstreaming (4) Research and Development; (5) Promotion and development of Open Education Resources (OERs); and (6) Enhancement of AVU Capacity. The 21 countries benefiting from the AVU Multinational Project Phase II include: nine (9) Francophone African Countries: Benin, Burkina Faso, ­Burundi, Cameroon, Democratic Republic of Congo, Mali, Mauritania, Niger, ­Senegal; three (3) Lusophone African Countries: Cape Verde, Guinea Bissau and ­Mozambique; and eight (9) Anglophone African Countries: Gambia, Ghana, Kenya, Ethiopia, Nigeria, Rwanda, South Sudan, Sudan, and Tanzania. See www.avu.org

Appendix I  153

ACU Refugee Program on the Thai-Burma Border The situation of refugees, forced migrants and internally displaced people is one of the greatest humanitarian challenges facing humankind. This is especially true of what the UN High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) calls ‘protracted refugee situations’ where the refugees have lived for many years in a state of limbo with no resolution to their problem in sight. This is the case with the nine Burmese camps along the Thai-Burmese border – the consequence of brutal repression of ethnic minorities by the junta in Burma. The changing political landscape in Myanmar has not so far improved the situation of ethnic minorities. In the camps, primary and secondary education are all provided by UNHCR and non-governmental organisations (NGOs) but there is no opportunity for young, bright refugees to have access to recognized qualifications in higher education. ACU has been offering tertiary education since 2004 to refugee students from Burma living in the camps. While the majority are from the Karen ethnic group, reflecting their majority presence on the Thai-Burma border, we have deliberately sought out students from other ethnic groups such as Kachin, Mon and Shan as well as ensuring a good gender balance. ACU offers a Diploma in Liberal Studies of eight broad liberal arts subjects such as English Communication Skills, Introduction to Development, and Fundamentals of Business Management. The Diploma is currently being taught to forty nine students through a mix of online tutoring, use of distance learning materials and face-to-face teaching. In the past, the Diploma was delivered through a consortium of ACU and three US based Jesuit Universities who each contributed a small amount of money as well as offering one subject each using on-line learning. However, the US Universities have withdrawn from ACU’s program and are now participating in a similar tertiary program modelled on the ACU program through JCHEM: Jesuit Higher Education at the Margins. Our current partners are York University in Toronto, Canada, the Marist Mission Ranong, (MMR) Thailand, the Order of St Augustine (OSA) and the Catholic Office for Emergency Relief and Refugees, (COERR) Thailand. The current Diploma program includes eight subjects, seven of which are taught by ACU staff and one by a York University. It is being delivered in Mae Sot in central Thailand where ACU has established a study centre which also provides accommodation for thirty students from refugee camps along the Thai/ Burma border and study facilities for the ten additional students who all work in CBOs or NGO’s. There are also nine Diploma students in Ranong in the South with a tutor and study centre supported by the MMR These students

154  Appendix I are all migrant workers from Burma who have had no previous opportunities for tertiary or vocational education A further group of five students from Pakistan, Syria and the Demo cratic Republic of Congo are urban refugees in Bangkok and will complete a Certificate version of the course, studying only four of the eight Diploma subjects. The reasons for this relate to the more complex circumstances of this group as well as limitations in local resources. Students are selected via an English test, both spoken and written as well as an extensive interview. In 2013, over two hundred and sixty students ­applied for the fifty four places in the 2014 course. The native English speaking ­tutors at each site who hold regular classes support students, providing much needed mediation of on-line course material as well as contact with lecturers. Former graduates of the ACU course have gained employment in NGOs or CBOs serving the refugee communities, teaching (the camps have lost 50% of their teachers over the past few years) and community leadership. For those who have chosen resettlement, a number have gained scholarships from foundations such as the Erasmus Mundi Foundation or Child’s Dream and entry into universities in Thailand or overseas. The program was awarded ‘Best Collaborative International Project’ at the prestigious Australian Business Higher Education Round Table Awards (B-HERT) in 2008 and won the ACU Vice-Chancellor’s Award for Outstanding Community Engagement in 2010. Research has shown the studies of past graduates have benefited the refugee community (if they have stayed in the camps or in the border area) or the community in diaspora (if they have been resettled to a third country). Students who previously supported the armed struggle against the Burmese military reported that, owing to their studies, they now believed in peaceful negotiation to end what is the world’s longest-running civil war. This program is a direct embodiment of ACU’s mission with its fundamental concern for justice and the dignity of all human beings. The on-going challenge is to raise the funds to make the program sustainable. For further information, contact Maya Cranitch on 02 9739 2010 or email: [email protected]. More information can be found on the Faculty of Education and website under ‘Community Engagement Activities’. See www.acu.edu.au.

Borderless Higher Education For Refugees (BHER) The Borderless Higher Education for Refugees (BHER) project is a development initiative that delivers higher education to refugees in the Dadaab refugee camps and Kenyan nationals from local host communities.

Appendix I  155 BHER is a multi-institutional collaboration within the seven-member BHER Consortium bridging Kenya and Canada. In Kenya, these consortium partners are African Virtual University (AVU), Kenyatta University (KU), Moi University (MU) and Windle Trust Kenya (WTK). The Canadian consortium members are York University (YU), University of British Columbia (UBC), and World University Service of Canada (WUSC). The BHER project is undertaken with the financial support of the Government of Canada, provided through the Department of Foreign Affairs, Trade and Development (DFATD) through a grant for the period of 2013–2018, administered through York University in Canada. The project draws on Canadian, Kenyan and international expertise to develop and enhance professional capacities in situ. Specifically, the project focuses on (1) enhancing the teaching workforce in the Dadaab camps and local surrounding communities in Kenya through internationally-recognized university courses and program offerings at the level of certificate, diplomas and degrees; and (2) ­increasing the effectiveness of Canadian and Kenyan universities to deliver quality inter-­ cultural and gender-sensitive university programs for marginalized groups and communities through partnership activities and joint courses/programs Project Goal: The ultimate goal of BHER is to afford refugee youth a greater likelihood of successful and productive repatriation to their home country when possible, and a rise in the quality of education in host/home countries concerned with building peaceful, equitable and socially inclusive societies.

What does BHER do? •

•

Offers gender balanced and internationally recognized university programs at the level of certificates, diplomas and degrees in education, social sciences and natural sciences to refugee and local populations; Supports Canadian and Kenyan universities to develop and deliver individual or joint onsite and online programs through the BHER Learning Centre.

How does BHER work? •

• • •

Students eligible to apply to any of the BHER programs will follow admission policies and procedures of the institution that administers any given academic program; All students initially attend a year of preparatory work to become university ready; After the preparatory stage, students enroll in Certificate and Diploma programs to train as teachers either in primary or secondary education; Upon completion of either the Certificate or Diploma Programs, students may apply to a degree program in a range of disciplines. These are still under development, but may include such disciplines as Community Health, Community Development and Extension and Business.

156  Appendix I •

•

All offerings are “stackable”, allowing students to earn a certificates or diplomas at each level of study, incrementally building towards earning a degree; Costs for education are absorbed by donors and participating universities.

BHER Model Students in the BHER program are organized in to “cohorts”, each of which accommodates up to 200 students and lasts four to -five years. Current funding covers 2 cohorts; one to begin in 2013 and one in 2014. Each cohort will initially enroll in a university preparation program called the Increased access and Skills for Tertiary Education Program (InSTEP). Its purpose is to prepare prospective students for university education through courses in English Language for Academic Purposes, Information and Communication Technology (ICT) and Research Skills. Successful students will receive a non-credit Certificate. Students who elect to proceed with their studies after completing InSTEP will be eligible apply to a BHER Certificate or Diploma in Education, pursuing either a primary or secondary education stream. Graduates from these Certificate and Diploma programs may then apply to a BHER Bachelor degree program offered by one or more of the BHER consortium universities, with their ­Education credits counted towards the requirements of the degree. InSTEP and all Certificate, Diploma and Degree programs are designed to be completed by students who remain resident in Dadaab during their studies, with courses offered both on-site and online. See http://crs.yorku.ca/bher

JC:HEM It’s About Partnerships JC:HEM brings together a large group of individuals, organisations, institutions and foundations, individually and collectively invested to bring higher education to those at the margins. This includes the Jesuit Refugee Service, UNHCR, ­Regis University as the awarding institution, as well as the other 27 universities in the US and an increasing number of organisations and institutions. Each brings their own networks and partners. Not least, JC:HEM harnesses the willingness of individuals, particularly faculty, to make their personal time available to teach those at the margins. Increasingly, the challenge for JC:HEM is not finding additional partners, but ensuring the appropriate management and targeting of their contributions.

Appendix I  157 Centralise Some Things, Decentralise Others (but keep them both small) JC:HEM has a small central team responsible for its academic activities course content management and delivery, faculty recruitment and orientation for example. This central academic management can support many site with JRS and potentially other partners. The scope and respective responsibilities of these key partners has become increasingly clear during the course of the pilot and will be formalised when JC:HEM moves into Phase II though Memoranda of Understanding.

The Technology & Networks To Do This Are Available At the outset it was thought that the principal challenges likely to be faced would be technological – how to get reliable power and internet access to refugee communities; the maintenances of computers, systems access, bandwidth etc. While these challenges have not been insignificant, they have, for the most part proved to be manageable. Moreover, the technology used has rarely been cutting edge: solar-power cells, batteries, generators etc, while the internet has usually been provided by commercial providers through existing networks. Buildings have been constructed using local labour and materials. Any visitor to the learning laboratories at Kakuma and Dzaleka for example, would instantly recognise the legacy of learning laboratories – a formula which has been in use since at least the 1980s.

The Principal Challenges are Academic The majority of Diploma courses offered by JC:HEM have been existing courses donated by partner institutions. In many cases it has been necessary to adapt them for cultural context and sensitivity often substantially. This process will culminate in Phase II when JC:HEM will develop an entirely new curriculum for the margins. This development represents a significant investment. Once complete however, it will be an equally significant asset capable of deployment wherever the need arises.

On-Site Support is Critical During the initial assessment process, JC:HEM encountered several previous attempts at distance learning amongst refugees. These had used a variety of media, paper-based postal systems, flash drives, video technology etc. The usual mechanism was to offer scholarships to individuals that covered the costs of fees and personal learning materials. For the most part, they had been unsuccessful. Upon examination, the assessment team concluded that it was not the intrinsic quality of these courses which was at fault, but the lack of local support.

158  Appendix I Students were often expected to study in isolation without the support of either the awarding institution or the sponsoring agency. While there were several celebrated success stories, the drop-out rates made such initiatives unsustainable. In response, JC:HEM has actively sought to develop learning centres which physically bring students together and encourages them to support each other amongst a community of learners. Moreover, JRS has employed dedicated staff to support students, resolve technical queries, monitor student progress and to identify and address both individual and collective student issues. This support has been critical.

Sustainability Requires A Business Plan JC:HEM has been an extremely effective mechanism for harnessing the voluntary contributions of people and institutions. However, to address issues of sustainability and to reassure existing and future partners, it has been necessary to develop a business model which quantifies and allocates the costs of the project amongst its various contributors. Not only has this model enabled partners to manage their on-going contributions, but also to evaluate the value of the programme to them. This takes a variety of forms: universities for example not only participate in an activity which helps them to deliver the more altruistic elements of their institutional their mission, but which also contributes to the professional and academic development of their faculty. The JRS and UNHCR, our on-site partners are not only able to provide educational opportunities for the group for which they are advocates but similarly benefit from the training and development of their staff. In addition, though engagement with JC:HEM International Faculty, they enhance other educational activities. See http://www.jc-hem.org/

InZone: Centre for Interpreting in Conflict Zones Humanitarian Communition: Challenges Conflict and natural disasters know no linguistic boundaries. Organisations working in the field are often ill equipped to deliver emergency and humanitarian aid across language barriers. InZone is committed to improving communication in conflict and post-conflict zones by delivering virtual and on-site training to humanitarian field interpreters. “Lack of translation and interpreting services is a vital missing link in our ability to coordinate humanitarian aid effectively.” Head of OCHA, Haïti (2010)

Appendix I  159 Interpreter Training InZone delivers tailor-made courses that blend on-site and online training. Course materials are always organizationand context-specific. The InZone Basic Course for Humanitarian Field Interpreters includes two key components: • •

Basic consecutive and note-taking skills Ethics in the communication process

JC:HEM InZone’s online training is delivered through InZone’s learning environment, optimized for a variety of devices and screen sizes.

InZone’s Mission & Activities InZone’s mission is three-fold: 1 Documentation and research • Publication database • Documentary evidence • Research on ethics & humanitarian interpreting 2 Training 2009–2010 • ICRC I online pilot course for ICRC 2011 • ICRC II • UNHCR I first course for UNHCR, Nairobi 2012–2013 • UNHCR II UNHCR, Nairobi • UNHCR III, Kakuma Refugee Camp • UNHCR IV, Khartoum & East Sudan • UNAMA I, Kabul • UNHCR V UNHCR, Nairobi • ICRC III & IV • UNHCR VI, Dadaab Refugee Camp 3 Community-building Providing a virtual meeting point for humanitarian field interpreters from different areas and humanitarian organisation

Recent Accomplishments • • • •

Over 150 interpreters trained for ICRC, UNHCR, IOM and ILO, covering up to 25 languages On-site courses in Kenya, Sudan, Afghanistan and Switzerland Opening of an office at UNON in Nairobi Launch of a Continuing Education Certificate in Humanitarian Interpreting (CAS)

160  Appendix I • •

MOOC on communication in humanitarian settings in collaboration with CER AH Higher education in fragile contexts

For more information contact: Prof. Barbara Moser-Mercer: [email protected] Carmen.Delgado@ unige.ch [email protected] [email protected] [email protected] Or see http://inzone.fti.unige.ch

Appendix II Proceedings of the UNHCR/OUR 3C Forum, held at Brickfields Asia College, Kuala Lumpur, 5–6 August 2016 Introduction Foreword The joint UNHCR/Open Universities for Refugees Initiative (OUR) 3C ­(Collaborate, Create, Change) Forum was held on 5–6 August 2016, in Brickfields Asia College (BAC), Kuala Lumpur (KL), Malaysia. Its stated aim was to bring together those concerned with secondary and tertiary-level education and refugee related issues in the region to explore how access to higher education opportunities for refugees in KL might be improved. Its focus was on forming active consortia and projects that, together, could work towards practical goals to this end. These proceedings are a record of the 3C Forum and comprise: • • • • • •

A summary and links to the briefing materials. A list of all those who participated. An outline of the 3C Forum methodology, characteristics and timetable. A list of items identified for discussion. Summaries of the workshop session discussions. The action plans of two potential projects implementation.

These proceedings are not intended as a verbatim account of everything that happened during the course of our two days together. Our discussions were too many, too varied and too wide to be captured comprehensively. Instead, they are intended to illustrate the nature of the 3C Forum, the mechanisms through which the themes and issues were identified, the extent to which they were explored and the practical actions that were agreed. By no means did all our deliberations lead to practical results. However, in all instances, knowledge was shared, relationships built and the seeds of potential future collaborations sown. As such they represent not one end but, rather, several beginnings.

Acknowledgements The 3C Forum was facilitated primarily by representatives from OUR, Drs Gül Inanç and Neil Sparnon, but was also dependent on the support and skills of

162  Appendix II many of those present – in particular, Dr Brian Lariche and the staff and students of BAC, who provided the venue and conference support; colleagues at UNHCR, who offered their networks and detailed knowledge; and organizations such as Fugee School, which supported the initial assessment visit and administered the survey. Its success was also dependent on the willingness and ability of those who facilitated sessions and, of course, the individual and collective skills and expertise of all those who attended.

Briefing materials Several items of briefing material were made available to participants prior (and subsequent) to the 3C Forum. Specifically: •

•

•

An OUR Site Report. Between 9 and 13 May 2016, OUR representatives visited KL to meet the key actors in the field of higher education provision to refugees. The focus was on the level and nature of current provision, the views of key stakeholders such as UNHCR, local universities, current and potential refugee students as well as current providers of secondary education. The visit sought to understand the principal issues and the potential to develop new initiatives and projects to address them. Potential Refugee Student Survey. Between May and July 2016, with the assistance of colleagues in Fugee School, an online survey of potential refugee students was conducted. The survey comprised 27 questions exploring the nature of current demand for tertiary education among refugees in KL and issues around tertiary-level access, secondary education provision, certification, travel, work and other commitments. In total, 123 students responded. Details of the UNHCR Refugee Education and Development Programme.

Participants Name

Email

Organization

3C Forum: methodology, characteristics and timetable Methodology The 3C Forum used open space technology methodology, the principal characteristics of which were that the agenda and themes were not defined in advance but rather emerged from participants during the course of the forum. As such, they were dependent on participants’ own priorities and aspirations. These themes were discussed in open-ended discussion sessions to which any and all participants were invited to attend and speak. The aims of such sessions could vary. For example, they might simply be an exchange of information, a

Appendix II  163 discussion, the development of a potential collaboration and/or the formulation of specific actions towards a specified end.

Characteristics The overriding characteristics of the 3C Forum, as set out to participants in the opening plenary session, were: • • • • • • • •

Anyone looking to solve a problem will have the opportunity to tackle it with others who are interested in finding solutions. Attendees learn, share, and exchange ideas dynamically. Complex problems can be explored, relationships built and new collaborations formed. ‘there is no agenda until… the attendees make one up.’ What do you want to do? What do you bring? How can you help? Format creates space for peer-to-peer learning, collaboration and creativity. At the start, the whole group will gather together to create an agenda using open space technology. The process will become clear as it happens, BUT the important part is everyone has the opportunity to put conference sessions on the agenda. No session will be voted off or ‘won’t happen’ for some other reason. All sessions are welcome.

Timetable With these imperatives in mind, the 3C Forum followed the following timetable: Friday 5 August 2016 • • • • •

9.30–10.00 – Registration. 10.00–11.00 – Welcome and introductions. 11.00–11.30 – Setting the Agenda. 11.30–16.00 – Open space sessions. 16.00–17.00 – Reflection.

Saturday 6 August 2016 • • • •

9.30–10.00 – Registration. 10.00–11.00 – Sharing the proceedings. 11.00–14.00 – Action Plans. 14.00–15–30 – Reflection/Closing remarks.

Issues for discussion as identified by participants The initial plenary session invited all participants to write and post on a board the issues they wished to discuss. These posts were reviewed by the 3C Forum facilitators and grouped into various themes. These themes formed the basis of

164  Appendix II workshop sessions that followed. The issues and the themes identified (copied directly from the post its) were:

Online education • •

Online (distance) education opportunities. From e-learning to open university.

The legal status of refugee students • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Recognition of education (issue of certification of education). Improving access to education for stateless children. Documentary hurdles to registering for schools (i.e. what if students lack birth certificates, transcripts, UNHCR cards. Examples of how Malaysian universities overcome the issues of students not having visas. Legalization of refugees to seek higher education in Malaysia. Issue of bridging courses-those with lost documents. How do refugees prove their previous education and qualifications? University access for students without UNHCR cards (UNHCR card application backlog). Getting a legal document allowing stateless children to have the right to move freely with no fear of arrest. Myanmar’s Rohingya refugees in Malaysia: education and the way forward. What are the criteria for entry and how to assess students? The skill sets the refugees need. Best practices on education processes. Work/education balance Women and encouraging them to get access to tertiary education. Recognition of learning centres as schools in order to offer external examinations. Establish partnerships with home countries of stateless children so the home country supports their own children too.

Bridge course and connectivity between secondary education and universities • • • • • • •

Discuss and undertake bridging courses for potential university graduates. Online bridging courses. How can we bridge their existing competencies with their target programme? Is there a common syllabus for refugee schools? A coordination centre/go to place for students preparing for tertiary education, e.g. interview skills, building CVs and personal development. Provide vocational training for junior high school levels, so stateless children have opportunities to acquire skills (outside of formal curriculum). High school competencies as a pathway to university.

Appendix II  165 • • • • •

Certified learning. Core skills (i.e. language, IT Admin). Improving the quality of schools (informal and formal curriculum) for stateless children. Work as part of study programme. What goals do the refugee participants have for higher education?

Funding •

• • • • • • •

What opportunity for future education local communities, individuals, organizations, corporate – getting them involved in refugee causes and taking ownership for looking after their various needs? Potential benefits to the institution and to refugees. How do you bring more people into this work? Improving skills in English scholarships for refugees that are available. Availability of funding and family support (donations, sponsorships, etc). Scholarships. Financial support/maintenance scholarships for students in Higher Education. Individual contribution of expertise – provide skills and knowledge facilities.

Language barriers and vocational education • • • • • •

• • • •

Language and the barriers to tertiary education it creates. How animation can help them to survive. Offering short courses for animation/creative industries. Early childhood education. Training student interest and creating network for communication about availability of opportunities. How to deal with the challenge of providing tertiary-level courses to refugees in English, in a country where no tertiary education is provided in English (i.e. Indonesia). Skill enhancement through short courses. Mechanism of offering the short courses. IT skills training, e.g. coding, graphic design, programming. Skill based tertiary education.

Workshop sessions Online education Facilitated by Dr Ng Oi Leng

Existing position Online education is used increasingly to offer higher education to refugees, for example Borderless Higher Education for Refugees, JC:HEM, The University of the People, etc.

166  Appendix II Several platforms (Virtual Learning Environments (VLE)) exist to host academic content and curricula that can be downloaded by teachers, and with which students can interact – e.g. Frog Asia, Moodle, Blackboard, etc. Increasingly, refugees have access to mobile phones, laptops and internet connectivity. The survey suggested that these are often available at home or in schools or workplaces. There is potential to offer refugees existing higher education courses online either through Malaysian or international universities. Those refugee students accepted to date often find it difficult to transition from secondary to tertiary education and need additional support. A bridging course, possibly delivered online, has the potential to alleviate this.

Issues Drop-out rates among secondary school students are high as refugees are unable to meet both their study and work commitments. This significantly reduces the pool of potential university students and means that they are also more likely to drop-out than non-refugee students. The survey suggested that many students are required to work long, unsociable hours, often involving considerable travel time. Any new courses developed require accreditation by a Malaysian University No Malaysian university currently offers online courses to refugees and, as far as we are aware, has plans to do so. Should online courses be offered to refugee students, there are significant unknowns around: • • • • •

Funding. Fees. Curriculum design. Accreditation. Pedagogy and the provision of teachers.

Possible solutions and potential actions Review existing online provision for potential admission to their courses. Consider the development of an online bridging course. Consider the development of online courses for refugees in partnership with a Malaysian or international university.

The legal status of refugee students Facilitated by Chong Yin Wei

Appendix II  167 Existing position Malaysia is not a signatory to the 1951 UN Refugee Convention. As such, refugees and migrants in Malaysia do not have legal status and are not entitled to attend public schools or universities. Obviously this creates a number of practical issues.

Issues Refugees have only very limited access to student visas to enable them to study as international students. Students cannot transfer automatically between institutions but rather must apply for a new visa. The community-based and UNHCR supported schools that provide secondary education to refugees in KL are not recognized or supported by the ­Malaysian state. As such, while some choose to follow the Malaysian state curriculum (accredited by the MQA), very few refugee qualifications are formally recognized by the majority of Malaysian institutions and/or employers. Private and/or international institutions that have tried to provide greater access to refugees have been unable to provide full certification for courses successfully completed. Others have expressed concern about, and been deterred by, the potential to infringe state law and policies.

Possible solutions and potential actions Despite these limitations, several universities in KL were offering funded places to refugee students. Several institutions were exploring the potential of accrediting programmes undertaken by refugees through their international partners. This would allow students to receive both the academic credit and the accredited award. The group recognized that ultimately, progress on these issues is dependent on the understanding and support of the Malaysian state. As such its focus would be on advocacy to stress the social and economic benefits of educating refugees. Its priorities would be: • • • •

The legal status of refugees. The accreditation of refugee schools and their curricula. The access of refugees to student visas and work permits. The reduction of legal obstacles for those institutions wishing to offer greater access to refugees.

Bridging course and connectivity between secondary education and universities Facilitated by Jessica Chapman and Lucy Bailey

168  Appendix II Existing position Since 2014, UNHCR has signed Memoranda of Understanding with several universities based in KL. These enable a limited number of university places to be offered to refugees, often with scholarships or fee waivers. These places are notified through the office of the UNHCR but are otherwise not advertised. There are short courses available for refugees. If they complete sufficient numbers of short courses it amounts to an equal number of credits as a full course. Course credit can be transferred. Not all refugee students are ready to undertake tertiary-level education and a bridging course would be welcomed. An arrangement through which potential students were mentored prior to their application and admission to university was also a possibility.

Issues While online courses to assist skills development exist, not all are appropriate for refugee students in terms of content and context. There is a need help to refugees improve their hard and soft skills such as social networking and financial management in order to be more effective students. The development of online courses would require the provision of relevant academic and IT skills. Refugee students would also need training and support in their use The scheme to offer university places appears to be little known among secondary education providers. There is a need to disseminate details more effectively. Universities currently have no formal or consistent way to vet applications from refugees. Usually an initial enquiry leads to the submission of a written application and an interview – but practice varies across the sector.

Possible solutions and potential actions Idea 1 (Bridge Course) Develop an online bridge course to enable potential students to develop appropriate academic and study skills. The course should be relatively short. Encourage input from universities to identify common university admission criteria and therefore guide the content of the bridge course. Work with existing providers of online platforms (VLE) such as Frog Asia to host the course. Encourage collaboration among the providers of secondary education to identify potential applicants for university places. These applicants could take the bridging course as a cohort. Idea 2 (Mentoring Programme) Complement the online courses with online mentors who would support students through the bridging course.

Appendix II  169 Encourage collaboration among secondary providers to share resources, i.e. mentors, information, emailing system, etc.

Funding Facilitated by Gül İnanç

Existing position The legal status of refugees and migrants in Malaysia (see earlier) is a barrier to funding projects and initiatives that support them directly and explicitly. S ­ upport for refugees’ projects in Malaysia is also muted. Not only is support for projects that prioritize Malaysians preferred, but the general understanding of issues faced by refugees and migrants is relatively limited. There is also a need to tackle the stigma that refugees are criminals and a source of problems in M ­ alaysian society.

Possible short term solutions and potential actions Potential activities: • •

• • •

• • • • • • • •

Create direct funding for scholarships (supporting individual education) via formation of new foundations/charity bodies. Encourage in kind donations – access the ‘computer graveyard’ through which organizations regularly replace computers every two years, despite their continuing to function. Organize a refugee film festival partnering with embassies/universities – for funding scholarships and creating awareness in the society. Host a marathon; for funding scholarships and creating awareness in the society. Support a mobile school in which a bus equipped with computers and Wi-Fi is driven around where the refugee communities are located for them to attend online classes or pre-recorded lectures few times in a week. This is to solve transport problem where the refugees do not have enough money for transport to go to a physical location to study. Arrange free transportation (in kind support) to the universities with private bus companies. Universities offering in-campus part-time jobs for the refugee students to support their education/funding Potential funders and partners. Big/small businesses. International NGO funds (project funding). Banks. Embassies. World Islamic Economic Forum (WIEF). Diaspora communities of the refugees who live in the other third countries.

170  Appendix II • • •

Neighbouring countries NGOs. Local Universities (offering scholarship funding if not access). DAFI.

Language barriers and vocational education Facilitated by Raeesah Khan

Existing position English is often a prerequisite demanded of students who want to enrol in tertiary education. This poses a problem to refugees as most of them have limited English language skills. Learning English would not only help them access tertiary education but would enable them to communicate better and help in interacting with locals. Popular vocational skills • • • •

Farming. Jewellery making. Sewing. Crochet.

Issues Most courses to which refugee students are likely to have access in KL are delivered in English and have admission standards – oral, writing and reading – that many would consider demanding. Indeed, many of those with English skill are deterred by interview requirements. Many refugees are unwilling to commit long term to developing vocation skills or learning a language. Some refugees are reluctant to enrol in vocational or language courses as this creates an official record which might be traced by authorities.

Possible solutions and potential actions The use of simple, easily understandable textbooks to assist those refugees who wish to learn English. These textbooks could be translated to the native languages of the refugees. The inclusion of English skills into a potential bridge course between secondary and tertiary education.

Action plans (6th August) The final sessions of the 3C Forum were devoted to the development of specific actions plans. After consideration the group decided to focus on the development

Appendix II  171 of a specific project: an online bridging course that would enable potential refugee students to transition more easily between secondary and tertiary education providers in KL and a mechanism to access funding sources for this and potential future projects. The facilitators took the opportunity to stress two points in particular to participants, specifically: •

•

Participants should look to be pro-active and draw upon the expertise within the group and those most likely to join it. The Malaysian government and UNHCR would provide a framework, but specific developments and projects would be reliant on participants. Potential funders are most likely to support coherent, comprehensive and costed projects which address specific issues that it time can be sustainable and independent. A support for one-off donations towards general activities is more difficult to support.

The two groups drew up the following actions plans, identifying a series of actions that would pursued in the short term (within the next few weeks), medium (within the next six months) and long (more than six months, years) terms.

Bridge course creation and connectivity between secondary education and universities Short Share information on current scholarships among providers of secondary education Share information on current scholarships among providers of HE places in KL Create a framework for project delivery. Local, group, external

Medium

Agree criteria and competencies for university admission Establish mentor network Establish mechanism for potential applicant application and possible cohort approach

Long

Course development: • Content • Delivery mechanism • Management and support • Funding

Jessica Chapman of Fugee School and Lucy Bailey of The University of Nottingham Malaysia Campus agreed to convene the groups and lead the action plan.

172  Appendix II Funding Short Form a coalition among NGOs, currently functioning as learning centres for refugees which will act as the advocacy group (to bring the issues regarding refugee education to the attention of government and other official circles) in the future (first meeting 15–30 September) – create standard template for the newly formed initiatives and NGOs – set up plans for supporting the funding of the bridging course and scholarships for refugee students

Participate in higher education fairs – create awareness within the higher education institutions

Medium

Long

Co-hosting an intercultural bazaar/ event bringing refugees and Malaysian youth together

Working closely with by creating projects (in kind/fundraising events) • • • • •

Individual donors Big/small companies Islamic capital Embassies Diaspora

Brian Lariche of Bricksfield Asia College agreed to convene the group and lead the action plan.

Appendix III Suggested readings on country profiles

Iraq Books Davis, E. (2005). Memories of state: Politics, history, and collective identity in modern Iraq. Berkeley: University of California Press. Lynch, M. (2006). Voices of the new Arab public: Iraq, Al-Jazeera, and Middle East politics today. New York: Columbia University Press. Marr, P. (2012). The modern history Of Iraq 3rd ed. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Sassoon, J. (2009). The Iraqi refugees: The new crisis in the Middle East. London; New York: I.B. Tauris. Tripp, C. (2007). A history of Iraq 3. ed. Cambridge, UK; New York: Cambridge University Press.

Articles Mowafi, H. and Spiegel, P. (2008). The Iraqi refugee crisis: Familiar problems and new challenges. The Journal of American Medical Association, 299(14), pp. 1713–1715. Lischer, S.K. (2008). Security and displacement in Iraq: Responding to the forced migration crisis, International Security, 33(2), pp. 95–119.

Iran Books Abrahamian, E. (2008). A history of modern Iran. Cambridge, UK; New York: Cambridge University Press. Afary, J. (2009). Sexual politics in modern Iran. Cambridge, UK; New York: Cambridge University Press. Gheissari, A. (2009). Contemporary Iran economy, society, politics. New York; Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gheissari, A. and Nasr, V. (2006). Democracy in Iran: History and the quest for liberty. New York: Oxford University Press. Mir-Hosseini, Z. (2000). Islam and gender: The religious debate in contemporary Iran. London; New York: Tauris. Sreberny, A. and Khiabany, G. (2010). Blogistan: The internet and politics in Iran. London: Tauris.

174  Appendix III Articles Mohammadi, M. (2017). Migration, women and education: Iran case study. European Psychiatry, 41, pp. S696–S697. Parchami, A. (2012). The ‘Arab Spring’: The view from Tehran. Contemporary Politics, 18(1), pp. 35–52.

Somalia Books El-Bushra, J. and Gardner, J. (2004). Somalia - The untold story: The war through the eyes of Somali women. Sterling, Va.: Pluto Press. Grayson, C.-L. (2017). Children of the camp: The lives of Somali youth raised in Kakuma refugee camp, Kenya. New York: Berghahn. Hesse, B. (2011).Somalia: State collapse, terrorism and piracy. London: Routledge. Jarle Hansen, S. (2014). Al-Shabaab in Somalia: The history and ideology of a militant Islamist group. Cary: Oxford University Press. Lewis, I. (2008). Understanding Somalia and Somaliland: A guide to cultural history and social institutions. New York: Columbia University Press. Strangio, D. (2012). The reasons for underdevelopment The case of decolonisation in Somaliland. Heidelberg: Physica-Verlag HD.

Articles Hoehne, M.V. (2015). Continuities and changes regarding minorities in Somalia. Ethnic and Racial Studies, Vol 38, No 5pp. 1–16. Lindley, A. (2014). Questioning ‘Drought Displacement’: Environment, politics and migration in Somalia. Forced Migration Review, (45), pp. 39–43. Menkhaus, K. (2007). Governance without government in Somalia: Spoilers, state building, and the politics of coping. International Security, 31(3), pp. 74–106.

Pakistan Books Afzal, M.R. (2002). Pakistan: History and politics, 1947–1971. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ahmad, A.N. (2011). Masculinity, sexuality and illegal migration: Human smuggling from Pakistan to Europe. Farnham: Ashgate. Jaffrelot, C. (2016). The Pakistan paradox: Instability and resilience. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kukreja, V. (2002). Contemporary Pakistan: Political processes, conflicts, and crises. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Paul, T.V. (2014). The warrior state: Pakistan in the contemporary world. New York: Oxford University Press. Talbot, I. (2012). Pakistan: A new history. London: Hurst.

Appendix III  175 Articles Ghufran, N. (2011). The role of UNHCR and Afghan refugees in Pakistan. Strategic Analysis, 35(6), pp. 945–954. Kronenfeld, D. (2008). Afghan refugees in Pakistan: Not all refugees, not always in Pakistan, not necessarily Afghan? Journal of Refugee Studies, 21(1), pp. 43–63. Lall, M. (2012). Citizenship in Pakistan: State, nation and contemporary faultlines. Contemporary Politics, 18(1), pp. 71–86. Mustafa, D. and Sawas, A. (2013). Urbanisation and political change in Pakistan: Exploring the known unknowns. Third World Quarterly, 34(7), pp. 1293–1304.

Syria Books Dam, N. van (2011). The struggle for power in Syria: Politics and society under Asad and the Ba’th party. London: I. B. Tauris. Heydemann, S. and Leenders, R. (2013). Middle east authoritarianisms: Governance, contestation, and regime resilience in Syria and Iran. Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press. Kerr, M. and Larkin, C. (2016). The Alawis of Syria: War, faith and politics in the levant. New York: Oxford University Press. Tofan, C. and Van Der Wolf, W. (2013). Law and war in Syria: A legal account of the current crisis in Syria. Nijmegen: International Courts Association. Wedeen, L. (2015). Ambiguities of domination: Politics, rhetoric, and symbols in contemporary Syria. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.

Articles Staněk, M. (2017). The humanitarian crisis and civil war in Syria: Its impact and influence on the migration crisis in Europe. Kontakt, 19(4), pp. e270–e275. Yazgan, P., Utku, D., and Sirkeci, I. (2015). Syrian crisis and migration. Migration Letters, 12(3), pp. 181–192.

Sri Lanka Books Brun, C. and Jazeel, T. (2009). Spatialising politics: Culture and geography in postcolonial Sri Lanka. Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage. Cooray, N.S. and Abeyratne, S. (2017). Decentralization and development of Sri Lanka within a unitary state. Singapore: Springer. Holt, J. (2011). The Sri Lanka reader: History, culture, politics. Durham, NC; Chesham: Duke University Press; Combined Academic [distributor]. Orjuela, C. (2008). The identity politics of peacebuilding: Civil society in war-torn Sri Lanka. New Delhi; Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage. Wickramasinghe, N. (2006). Sri Lanka in the modern age: A history of contested identities. London: C. Hurst.

176  Appendix III Articles DeVotta, N. (2011). Sri Lanka: From turmoil to dynasty. Journal of Democracy, 22(2), pp. 130–144. Orjuela, C. (2017). Divides and dialogue in the diaspora during Sri Lanka’s Civil War. South Asian Diaspora, 9(1), pp. 67–82. Samarasinghe, V. (2012). “A Theme Revisited”? The impact of the ethnic conflict on women and politics in Sri Lanka. Journal of Women, Politics & Policy, 33(4), pp. 345–364.

Myanmar Books Aung-Thwin, M. and Aung-Thwin, M. (2013). A history of Myanmar since ancient times: Traditions and transformations. London: Reaktion Books. Chantavanich, S. and Kamonpetch, A. (2017). Refugee and return: Displacement along the Thai-Myanmar border. Springer. Cockett, R. (2015). Blood, dreams and gold: The changing face of Burma. New Heaven: Yale University Press. Egreteau, R. (2017). Caretaking democratization: The military and political change in Myanmar. New York: Oxford University Press. Guo, X. (2008). Myanmar/Burma: Challenges and perspectives. Stockholm: Institute for Security and Development. Harkins, B. and Chantavanich, S. (2014). Resettlement of displaced persons on the Thai-­ Myanmar border. Springer. Kipgen, N. (2016). Myanmar: A political history. New Delhi: Oxford University Press.

Articles Cheesman, N. (2009). Thin rule of law or un-rule of law in Myanmar? Pacific Affairs, 82(4), pp. 597–613. Huang, R.L. (2013). Re-thinking Myanmar’s political regime: Military rule in Myanmar and implications for current reforms. Contemporary Politics, 19(3), pp. 247–261. Jones, L. (2014). The political economy of Myanmar’s transition. Journal of Contemporary Asia, 44(1), pp. 144–170. Taylor, R. (2005). Do states make nations? The politics of identity in Myanmar revisited. South East Asia Research, 13(3), pp. 261–286.

Index

Academic Ranking of World Universities (ARWU) 10, 12 ACU see Australian Catholic University (ACU) Afghanistan 8, 14 African Virtual University (AVU) 9, 151–4 Albert Einstein German Academic Refugee Initiative (DAFI) 8, 147 Aleppo 71 Al-Shabaab 95 Amaal: about family 79; education career 80–83; journey to Malaysia 80; life in Ethiopia 79–80; life in Malaysia vs. life in USA 86; message to young refugees 86; NGO-run learning centre 82; Somali refugee education 83 Anderson, K.A. 130 Andrew: become refugee, explanation 49; Bible College in India 48; education 48; in Kuala Lumpur 49–50; learnt English 48; mother’s death 52; sales promoter 50; work electrician 50; youth service 48–9 anti-Muslim riots 88 Arab Spring revolutions 67 ARWU see Academic Ranking of World Universities (ARWU) Asia Pacific Refugee Rights Network 14 asylum seekers and refugees 47, 76 Australian Catholic University (ACU) 9, 150, 152–4 AVU see African Virtual University (AVU) Bailey, Lucy 165–7 Bangkok 41, 153 Bangladesh: refugee camp in 124; Rohingya refugees, repatriate 24; in Zaid 26 Bankston III, C.L. 128 Barbosa, G.Y. 127

Bash, L. 122 Bauman, Z. 136 ‘being ordinary’ 134–7 Betancourt, T.S. 127 Bethany: about family 73; bridging course 73; change locations 74; education strategy 77; journey to Malaysia 75–6; in Pakistan 73, 74; undergraduate degree 73, 78 BHER see Borderless Higher Education for Refugees (BHER) B-HERT see Business Higher Education Round Table Awards (B-HERT) Borderless Higher Education for Refugees (BHER) 9, 150, 154–5 Bourdieu, P. 122, 126 British Council 55 Buddhism: Myanmar 61; Nyan Hongsa’s case 53; Sri Lankans 88 Buddhist monastery 53 Burma 35, 152, 153 Business Higher Education Round Table Awards (B-HERT) 153 Byrne, A. 136 Cambridge Examinations Board 14 Cambridge International Certificate of General Education (IGCSE) 17 ‘camping crusade’ 30 CAP see Comprehensive Action Plan (CAP) Catholic Office for Emergency Relief and Refugees (COERR) 153 CERTE see Connecting and Equipping Refugees to Tertiary Education (CERTE) 3C Forum 18; acknowledgements 161–62; action plans 170–72; bridge course 164–5; briefing material 162–3;

178 Index characteristics of 163; funding 165; language barriers 165; online education 164, 165–6; open space technology methodology 162; refugee students, legal status of 164; timetable 163; and vocational education 165 Chapman, Jessica 167–9 Chin community church 32, 63 Chin refugee community 32 Chiramba, O. 124 Chong Yin Wei 166–7 Christian refugees: Andrew’s case 48; Bethany’s case 73, 74; Matthew’s case 61; Peter’s case 29 COERR see Catholic Office for Emergency Relief and Refugees (COERR) Comprehensive Action Plan (CAP) 14 connected learning 145; eco-system of 149; mentorship programmes, considerations for 148–9; scholarship vs. non-scholarship models 148; with UNHCR’s protection mandate 146–7; use of technology 149 connected learning actors 149–51 Connected Learning in Crisis Consortium 9 Connecting and Equipping Refugees to Tertiary Education (CERTE) 18 Coursera modules 132 Cranton, P. 138 Crea, Thomas M. 126 ‘The Cultural Production of the Educated Person,’ 125 Dadaab refugee camp 79 DAFI see Albert Einstein German Academic Refugee Initiative (DAFI) Dalir: about family and education carrier 113; achievement of 118; education in Australia 116; humanitarian drive 116; journey to Malaysia 114; refugee rights, international campaigner for 113; resettlement 115; translator for UNHCR 115; working in coffee bar 114 Damascus University 67, 68 Davidson, S. 136 Democratic Republic of Congo 151–3 Department of Foreign Affairs, Trade and Development (DFATD) 154 Dirkx, J.M. 138 displaced communities, offering education for 11 Dollo Abo 79

Dryden-Peterson, Sarah 5–7, 128, 137 Duckworth, A. L. 120 durable solutions 8–10 Education for All (EFA) 5, 11 Eid-ul-Fitr festival 24 Enders, J. 138 English Language Proficiency 14 English-speaking country 56, 113 Ethiopia 79, 80 Executive Committee Conclusion on Children at Risk 6 family identity, values and support 128–30 Fazel, M. 127 Ferede, M.K. 123, 129 Filipino Muslim refugees 14 first-generation university students in USA 129 Fleming, Melissa 4 Foley, D.E. 125 Gale, P. 136 Gans, H.J. 124 GEMR see Global Education Monitoring Report German-funded DAFI scholarship programme 147 Gifford, S.M. 132 Global Education Monitoring Report (GEMR) 3 ‘Global Movements’ in education 4–7 Gofen, A. 129 Gozdziak, E.M. 130 ‘grit’: definition of 120, 121 ‘growth mindset’ 120–1 Hernández, E.I. 130 higher education (HE): ‘high-ability’ students 121; Myanmar and Somalia refugees 123; recommendations to 139–40; refugees in 119–23 Holland, D.C. 125 Humanitarian Field Interpreters course 157 human traffickers 25–6 Hussein, Saddam 110 ICT see Information and Communication Technology (ICT) Identity Negotiation Theory 122 IELTS see International English Language Testing System (IELTS)

Index  179 IGCSE see Cambridge International Certificate of General Education (IGCSE) ‘illegal migrants’ 14 Inanç, Gül 161, 169–170 Increased access and Skills for Tertiary Education Program (InSTEP) 155 Indonesian migrant workers 13 INEE see International Network for Educations for Emergencies Information and Communication Technology (ICT) 147 InSTEP see Increased access and Skills for Tertiary Education Program (InSTEP) International English Language Testing System (IELTS) 105 International Network for Educations for Emergencies (INEE) 9 ‘International Students’ 14 internet, role of 131–2 Interpreting in Conflict Zones (InZone) 9, 150, 157–8 Iran, Dalir’s case 113–18 Iraq 8; cancer patients in 110; IraqAmerican War 105, 110; Omar’s case 105–12; refugees 108; Sunni/Shia Muslims 110 Iraq-American War (2003) 105, 110 Ivy League 120 Jamilah: dream 95; education in Malaysia 101; end of primary schooling 97; learnt English in Kenya 101; life in Somalia 95, 98; in Malaysia 99; version of story 96 Jesuit Commons Higher Education at the Margins (JC:HEM) 9, 150, 153, 155–7 Johnson, G.C. 135 Journal of Refugee Studies 130 Kachin community 41 Kaur, Amarjit 13 Kenya hosts Dadaab refugee camp 79 Kenya 97; Jamilah’s case 95–104; refugees in 96; UNHCR in 100, 133 Khan, Raeesah 168 knowledge-based economies 6 Kuala Lumpur (KL): Mon community in 55; Myanmar community in 61; Somali community in 80, 83; Sri Lankan community in 92 ‘Large Movements’ of people 4–7 Leng, Ng Oi 163–4

Levinson, B.A. 125 Loveday, V. 136 MacFarland, Mary 126 Malay language 50 Malaysia: Andrew 49–52; case study 12–18; in Chin refugee community 32; country profile of 14; ethnic groups 50; free and compulsory education act 14; Immigration Acts of 1959/63 13; labour-importing country 13; in Maran 39–47; Matthew experience 60–6; Omran advice, new refugee 72; in UNHCR (see United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR)); sexual abuse 42 Malkki, L. 135 Maran: Chinese dim sum restaurant 42–3; community card 41, 42; education 40, 44, 46; felt helpless 42; financial wealth 46; journey to Kuala Lumpur 41; Kachin community 41; learn English 48; in Myanmar 39, 40; student card 45; in Thailand 41 Maringe, F. 121, 124 Marist Mission Ranong, (MMR) 153 Massachusetts Institute of Technology 9 Matthew: became principal 62–3; Bible College in KL 62; Burmese, mentality of 60; Chin, different types of 61; current resettlement rates 65; dark periods 60–6; higher education 63; learn English 63; mamak stall 61; in Myanmar 60; refugee learning centre 62, 69; science undergraduate 60; work casino 61 Medan, refugee camp in 90 mentorship programmes 148–9 Mezirow, J. 138 military situation in Somalia 84 Millennium Development Goals 5, 7 MMR see Marist Mission Ranong, (MMR) Mon community 55 Morrice, L. 122, 130 Mosselson, J. 122 Muslim refugees: Myanmar 24; Nurain’s family 88; Omran’s case 72, 74; Syria 108; Vietnamese and Filipino 14 Myanmar: Chin State 48, 60; in education 40; international image of 61; military government ruling 61; in Muslims 24; Nyan Hongsa 53–9; in Peter 29–38; in study 24; Yangon 61

180 Index New York Declaration for Refugees and Migrants 7 NGO learning centre 82, 90, 91 Non-Governmental Organisations (NGOs) 69, 70, 133, 137, 152 Nurain: about family 87; A/S levels 90; help of migration agents 90; moving to Malaysia 88; Muslim minority 88; rebel Tamil Tigers 87, 88; in Sri Lankan 87 Nyan Hongsa: about family and education 53; Burmese friend in Malaysia 55–6; business course 56; education struggling 57; message to young refugees 58–9; self-education in English 54; sponsors and scholarship 58; studying opportunities 55; in Thailand 54 Obama, Barack 12 OBS see Otto Benecke Stiftunge.V. (OBS) Ojo, E. 124 Omar: about family and education career 105; kidnapping threats 106–7; life in Syria 108–9; in Malaysia 111; personal pride 111–12 Omran: about family 67; advice new refugee in Malaysia 72; Damascus University 68; Information Technology 70; resettlement 71; Syrian Civil War 67–8; Syrian community 69 online learning platforms 9 Opening Universities for Refugees (OUR) 15 Order of St. Augustine (OSA) 153 Otto Benecke Stiftunge.V. (OBS) 8 OUR see Opening Universities for Refugees (OUR) Pakistan: Bethany’s case 73–8; education in 74 Palestine 14 Pan African eLearning Network 151 Pan African Intergovernmental Organization 151 Paoletti, I. 135 Peter: about family and school career 29–30; access education, key factors 36; ‘camping crusade’ 30; concept of refugee 37; educational ambitions 33; haunted memories 38; journey to Malaysian peninsula 31; learning English 33; migrant in Malaysia 33–4; Western university 35 Plasterer, Robyn 6

pity and gratitude 133–4 Ponzoni, E. 137 Portugal 4 programme design 148–9 ‘protracted refugee situations’ 152 Quacquarelli Symonds 10 rape: Maran’s case 48; Peter’s case 30, 38; Zaid’s case 24, 26 Razak, Najib 12 Reed, H.E. 127 Refuge 6, 7 refugee(s): in Canada 129; cultural capital 122; educational identity 137; familial identity 126–7; health problems 127; identity of 122; in Malaysia 122; positions, definition of 119; recommendations to 140; socioeconomic background 123; sociopolitical context 135 refugee camp 24 refugee convention 3 Refugee Education Global Review 5 refugee learning centre: for Syrian refugees 69; volunteering in 32, 33, 35–6, 38 ‘Refugees and Refugee Policy in Malaysia’ 13 refugee students 63; bridging course 164, 167–9; connected learning 147; DAFI scholarships 147–8; funding 165, 169–170; language barriers 163, 168; legal status of 164, 166–7; online education 164, 165–6; study ‘business’ 34; tertiary education programmes 145; and vocational education 165, 170 Regnerus, M.D. 130 religious identity 130–1 ‘resilience’ 121 Rohingya community: in Bangladesh 24; in Burmese government 25; motivational scheme 23 Rohingya Football Club 23 Sarr, K.G. 123 scholarship vs. non-scholarship models 148 Scripps National Spelling Bee 120 sexual abuse see rape Shandy, D.J. 130 SIHO see Swiss Humanitarian Organization Sikkink, D. 130 Sinhalese vs. Tamil Tigers 88

Index  181 Slater, D. 131 ‘societal’ borders 13 socio-political context 135 Somalia 8; Amaal’s case 79; Civil War 79, 95; community 80, 83; culture 83; health education 95; Jamilah’s case 95–104; military situation in 84; refugees 79 South African students 121 Sparnon, Neil 161 Sri Lanka: Civil War 87; Nurain’s case 87–94; Sinhalese vs. Tamil Tigers 88 Sri Lankan refugee community 92, 93 Stevenson, J. 128, 138 Sunni Muslims 108, 110 Swiss Humanitarian Organization (SIHO) 151 Syria 153; Civil War 67, 68; community 69; Omran’s case 67–72; refugees 69 Syrian Crisis 7 Syrian Ministry of Education 108 Tandemic project 17 tertiary education 145; connected learning 147; continuum of education 146; empowering community 147; in refugee students 145; role-model of students 146 Thai-Burma Border 152–4 Times Higher Education World University Ranking (THE) 10 Times Square 32 Toldson, I.A. 130 Trump, Donald 71, 85 UAE see United Arab Emirates (UAE) UNHCR see United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) UNHCR’s education strategy: connected learning actors 149–51; programme design reflections 148–9; tertiary

education 146–7; tertiary scholarship programme 147–8 UN International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights 6 United Arab Emirates (UAE) 113 United Nations High Commission for Refugees (UNHCR) 25–5, 34, 36–8, 42, 44, 46, 47, 51, 54, 55, 58, 63, 65, 70, 75, 76, 89, 91, 96, 111, 113–15, 117, 120, 133, 145–50, 155, 161; accept refugee and asylum-seeker students 76; educational strategy 5; Education Policy Commitments 6; Global Review of 2011 6; in Malaysia 71; networked identity, role of 133; public awareness of refugees in 2009 8 University World News 4 virtual learning environments (VLE) 145, 150, 166 Western university 35 Western volunteers 32 Wilding, R. 132 Willott, J. 128, 136, 138 Wilson-Strydom, M. 121 World Education Forum in Dakar 4–5 World Humanitarian Summit 3 Wright, Laura Ashley 6 Yap, S.Y. 136 Yemen 14 Zaid: campaign meetings 26; childhood memories 24; disabled people 25; education and working 23, 28; journey to Malaysia 25; life-changing moment for 24; in Myanmar 23; refugees’ success 23 Zeus, B. 119 Zezlina-Phillips, E. 122 Zhou, M. 128