Surviving Fragments: Navigating the Experience of Displacement Through Objects
Behjat Omer Abdulla, a refugee artist from Kurdistan, fled his home in the 1990s due to escalating conflict. After he settled in Sweden, he created Unidentified Objects (2015), a series of graphite drawings focused on unidentified archaeological artifacts left behind after ISIS looted the Mosul Museum. Each object is held in latex-gloved hands against black backgrounds.
Abdulla’s portrayal of unnamed and damaged objects represents evidence of life disrupted by violence, of stories told from the fragments left behind. Abdulla communicates the importance of reframing conflict stories through the objects that populate them, returning autonomy to the storytellers by returning their possessions in this work.
The refugee experience is surrounded by loss. Displacement includes the loss of possessions, beyond the emotional loss of home, culture, and connection. Everyday objects can hold incredible emotional value, especially when you are forced to leave them behind.
This article will explore two post-conflict communities where objects have helped refugees adjust and regain autonomy. Examining these stories through the objects can provide new perspectives on balancing post-conflict survival with rebuilding.
The Soccer Ball in Kakuma Refugee Camp
The Kakuma Refugee Camp, established in 1992, is a large-scale UN-organized settlement in Kenya. It was founded for the ‘Lost Boys of Sudan’, around 20,000 Sudanese boys displaced after the Nuer and Dinka ethnic groups faced persecution during the Second Sudanese Civil War (1987-2005). It’s home to refugees from Sudan, Somalia, and Ethiopia.
The football has become a symbol of hope, resilience, and community for the inhabitants of Kakuma Refugee Camp, transcending its role as sports equipment or toy. Starting from an informal group of boys playing football together after significant losses, the soccer ball now represents more than just a piece of inflated rubber.
In 2018, Kakuma United was officially registered with the National League, supported by the UN Refugee Agency and the Lutheran World Foundation. In a recent UNHCR article, Tayyar Sukru Cansizoglu, UNHCR’s Head of Sub Office in Kakuma, says that in the camp, ‘football goes beyond sportsmanship – it has become a symbol of unity, peace and love for refugees and the host community.’ [1] The soccer ball serves as a catalyst for social cohesion, allowing individuals to forge connections, build friendships, and reclaim agency and autonomy in their post-conflict lives.
The soccer ball in Kakuma Refugee Camp is more than entertainment. It’s a path to empowerment for refugees rebuilding their lives after conflict. The team has flourished, becoming the best in the league in their first year and only losing one match in 2018.
Refugees in Kakuma use the sport to turn adversity into opportunity on the camp’s pitches through soccer tournaments and informal matches. They empower themselves through the soccer ball, reclaiming agency, shaping their destinies and defying displacement to pursue a future filled with hope and possibility.
Immaculée Ilibagiza’s Rosary and the Rwandan Genocide
The Rwandan Genocide occurred between April and July 1994. It was triggered by ethnic tensions between the Hutu majority and Tutsi minority. After the assassination of President Juvenal Habyarimana on April 6, 1994, the conflict escalated into widespread violence by the Hutu-led government and militia against the Tutsi. It is estimated that between 800,000 to 1 million people were killed in three months, leaving a trail of trauma and destruction shaping the country’s history.
Immaculée Ilibagiza survived with seven other women in a bathroom, hidden behind a closet in a Hutu pastor’s house, for 91 days, while most of her family was killed.
Since then, Ilibagiza found refuge in the United States and became a successful author of several books. In her works, she details how her faith and prayer helped her during the ordeal and shaped her post-conflict adjustment and ability to forgive the perpetrators.
Ilibagiza’s book The Rosary: The Prayer That Saved My Life” is of interest. She highlights the physical rosary as a symbol of hope throughout her experience. It protected and guided her through despair and gave her courage to endure and survive the genocide violence.
Immaculée emerged from hiding, her rosary remaining a tangible reminder of the importance of faith and forgiveness to overcome hatred and adversity. It inspired her to share her story and advocate for healing and reconciliation after the genocide.
What We Take with Us: Understanding People Through Things
The soccer ball at Kakuma Refugee Camp has inspired humanity in the face of adversity. It goes beyond a play object, becoming a catalyst for social cohesion, empowerment, and autonomy among refugees rebuilding post-conflict lives. Through sport, individuals in Kakuma find connection and reclaim agency and belonging in a world marked by displacement and uncertainty.
Amid the horrors of the Rwandan Genocide, Immaculée Ilibagiza found solace, strength, and spiritual resilience in her rosary. Her story has resonated with countless others, adding a new dimension to the rosary as an object of faith. For Ilibagiza, the rosary serves as a reminder not only of her displacement and loss but also of her post-conflict experience. It is a symbol of healing, adjustment, and forgiveness inspired by her struggles.
These are two examples of significant tools in the lives of refugees in and after conflict. The soccer ball in Kakuma Refugee Camp and Ilibagiza’s rosary remind us of the resilience and humanity of refugees and conflict survivors. Examining refugee experiences through everyday objects helps us understand how these reminders of humanity and home can aid in increasing autonomy and adjustment in post-conflict areas. Objects serve as practical reminders of self-hood and humanity, despite their small presence amidst conflict.
With the rise in refugee populations over the past three years, more attention has been given to the experience. The International Rescue Committee released an article in 2015 entitled, What’s In My Bag? [2] In it, they interview refugees from different conflict areas and ask them to reveal the contents of their bags.
One thing becomes clear. Despite the often limited space for refugees, many carry objects like phones, documents, and an SD card full of family photos from home. Whether these objects make it through the arduous journey is left to chance, but their inclusion amongst the necessary items speaks not only to a desire for connection, but also to a hope for the future. A hope embodied in objects.
In this episode Elysia discusses the importance of objects and their meaning in communties rebuilding themselves once the conflict is over. She is a Citizen journalist with us on a placement organised with Oxford University Career Services. This article was edited using Lex.page.
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