So I started working with refugees because I wanted to make a difference, and making a difference starts with telling their stories. So when I meet refugees, I always ask them questions. Who bombed your house? Who killed your son? Did the rest of your family make it out alive? How are you coping in your life in exile? But there's one question that always seems to me to be most revealing, and that is: What did you take? What was that most important thing that you had to take with you when the bombs were exploding in your town, and the armed gangs were approaching your house?
Ma valisin töö pagulastega, sest ma tahtsin maailma parandada ja maailma parandamine algab nende lugude edasirääkimisest. Alati, kui ma kohtan pagulasi, küsin ma neilt küsimusi. Kes pommitas su kodu maatasa? Kes tappis su poja? Kas su ülejäänud pereliikmed pääsesid eluga? Kuidas sa saad hakkama eluga eksiilis? Kuid küsimus, mis on minu jaoks kõige kõnekam, on järgmine: Mille sa kaasa võtsid? Mis oli sinu jaoks kõige olulisem, mille sa pidid endaga kaasa võtma, kui su kodulinnas plahvatasid pommid ja relvastatud jõugud piirasid su maja sisse?
A Syrian refugee boy I know told me that he didn't hesitate when his life was in imminent danger. He took his high school diploma, and later he told me why. He said, "I took my high school diploma because my life depended on it." And he would risk his life to get that diploma. On his way to school, he would dodge snipers. His classroom sometimes shook with the sound of bombs and shelling, and his mother told me, "Every day, I would say to him every morning, 'Honey, please don't go to school.'" And when he insisted, she said, "I would hug him as if it were for the last time." But he said to his mother, "We're all afraid, but our determination to graduate is stronger than our fear."
Üks süürlasest pagulaspoiss, keda ma tunnen, ütles mulle, et ta ei kõhelnud, kui ta elu oli ohus. Ta võttis kaasa oma keskkooli lõputunnistuse ja selgitas hiljem, miks ta seda tegi. Ta ütles: "Ma võtsin oma keskkooli lõputunnistuse, sest sellest sõltus mu elu." Ta oli riskinud oma eluga, et see tunnistus saada. Kooliteel pidi ta sageli kuulide eest kõrvale põikama. Sageli vappus tema klassiruum ümberringi lõhkevate pommide kuminast. Ta ema ütles mulle: "Ma palusin igal hommikul, et ta kooli ei läheks." Kui ta keeldus, vastas ema: "Ma kallistasin teda alati nii, nagu see oleks viimane kord." Aga ta ütles oma emale: "Me kõik kardame, kuid meie tahe kool lõpetada on tugevam kui meie hirm."
But one day, the family got terrible news. Hany's aunt, his uncle and his cousin were murdered in their homes for refusing to leave their house. Their throats were slit. It was time to flee.
Ühel päeval jõudis tema pereni kohutav uudis. Hany tädi, onu ja nõbu mõrvati oma kodus, kuna nad keeldusid sealt lahkumast. Nende kõrid lõigati läbi. Oli aeg põgeneda.
They left that day, right away, in their car, Hany hidden in the back because they were facing checkpoints of menacing soldiers. And they would cross the border into Lebanon, where they would find peace. But they would begin a life of grueling hardship and monotony. They had no choice but to build a shack on the side of a muddy field, and this is Hany's brother Ashraf, who plays outside.
Nad lahkusid selsamal päeval, selsamal hetkel, autoga, Hany oli peidetud auto tagaossa, sest nende teel ootasid ees mitmed sõduritega mehitatud konrollpunktid. Lõpuks ületasid nad piiri ja jõudsid Liibanoni, kus neid ootas ees rahu. Kuid uue elu alustamine sai olema kurnavalt raske ja üksluine. Neil polnud muud valikut, kui ehitada onn mudase välja äärealale ja see on Hany vend Ashraf, kes mängib õues.
And that day, they joined the biggest population of refugees in the world, in a country, Lebanon, that is tiny. It only has four million citizens, and there are one million Syrian refugees living there. There's not a town, a city or a village that is not host to Syrian refugees. This is generosity and humanity that is remarkable. Think about it this way, proportionately. It would be as if the entire population of Germany, 80 million people, would flee to the United States in just three years. Half of the entire population of Syria is now uprooted, most of them inside the country. Six and a half million people have fled for their lives. Over and well over three million people have crossed the borders and have found sanctuary in the neighboring countries, and only a small proportion, as you see, have moved on to Europe. What I find most worrying is that half of all Syrian refugees are children. I took this picture of this little girl. It was just two hours after she had arrived after a long trek from Syria into Jordan.
Sel päeval liitusid nad maailma suurima pagulaste grupiga riigis, mis on tilluke – Liibanonis. Seal elab vaid neli miljonit kodanikku ning tänaseks juba miljon Süüria pagulast. Sealt ei leia linna, küla ega asulat, kus ei oleks ühtegi Süüria pagulast. See on näide tähelepanuväärsest lahkusest ja inimlikkusest. Mõelgem sellest proportsionaalselt. See oleks umbes sama kui terve Saksamaa elanikkond – 80 miljonit inimest – pageks kõigest kolme aastaga Ameerikasse. Pool Süüria elanikkonnast on oma kodudest lahkunud, enamus neist riigi piires. Kuus ja pool miljonit inimest on oma elu päästmiseks põgenenud. Kõvasti üle kolme miljoni inimese on ületanud riigipiiri ja leidnud pelgupaigad naabruskonnas asuvates riikides. Vaid väike hulk Süüria pagulastest on liikunud edasi Euroopasse. Mis mind enim muretsema paneb, on teadmine, et pooled Süüria pagulastest on lapsed. Ma tegin foto sellest väikesest tüdrukust. See on tehtud vaid kaks tundi pärast tema saabumist peale pikka retke Süüriast Jordaaniasse.
And most troubling of all is that only 20 percent of Syrian refugee children are in school in Lebanon. And yet, Syrian refugee children, all refugee children tell us education is the most important thing in their lives. Why? Because it allows them to think of their future rather than the nightmare of their past. It allows them to think of hope rather than hatred.
Kõige murettekitavam on see, et vaid 20% Süüria pagulaslastest käib Liibanonis koolis. Sellele vaatamata räägivad Süüria pagulaslapsed, tegelikult kõik pagulaslapsed, et haridus on nende elus kõige olulisem. Miks? Sest see võimaldab neil mõelda oma tulevikule, selle asemel, et takerduda seljataha jäetud aja õudustesse. See võimaldab neil mõelda vihkamise asemel lootusele.
I'm reminded of a recent visit I took to a Syrian refugee camp in northern Iraq, and I met this girl, and I thought, "She's beautiful," and I went up to her and asked her, "Can I take your picture?" And she said yes, but she refused to smile. I think she couldn't, because I think she must realize that she represents a lost generation of Syrian refugee children, a generation isolated and frustrated. And yet, look at what they fled: utter destruction, buildings, industries, schools, roads, homes. Hany's home was also destroyed. This will need to be rebuilt by architects, by engineers, by electricians. Communities will need teachers and lawyers and politicians interested in reconciliation and not revenge. Shouldn't this be rebuilt by the people with the largest stake, the societies in exile, the refugees?
Mulle meenub üks hiljutistest käikudest Põhja-Iraagis asuvasse Süüria pagulaslaagrisse, kus ma tutvusin ühe tüdrukuga ja mõtlesin: "Ta on imeilus." Ma läksin tema juurde ja küsisin: "Kas ma võin sind pildistada?" Ta nõustus, kuid keeldus naeratamast. Ma arvan, et ta ei suutnud seda teha, sest ta mõistis, et on osa Süüria pagulaslaste kadunud põlvkonnast. Põlvkonnast, mis on äralõigatud ja pettunud. Mõelgem, mille juurest nad pagesid: kohutava hävingu, ehitiste, tööstuse, koolide, teede ja kodude. Ka Hany kodu hävitati. See tuleb taas üles ehitada arhitektide, inseneride ja elektrikute poolt. Kogukonnad vajavad õpetajaid ja juriste ja poliitikuid, kes otsivad lepitust, mitte kättemaksu. Kas seda ei peaks tegema inimesed, keda see kõige enam mõjutab – pagenduses olevad ühiskonnad? Pagulased?
Refugees have a lot of time to prepare for their return. You might imagine that being a refugee is just a temporary state. Well far from it. With wars going on and on, the average time a refugee will spend in exile is 17 years. Hany was into his second year in limbo when I went to visit him recently, and we conducted our entire conversation in English, which he confessed to me he learned from reading all of Dan Brown's novels and from listening to American rap. We also spent some nice moments of laughter and fun with his beloved brother Ashraf. But I'll never forget what he told me when we ended our conversation that day. He said to me, "If I am not a student, I am nothing."
Pagulastel on hulganisti aega, valmistamaks ette oma tagasitulekut. Te võite mõelda, et pagulaseks olemine on midagi ajutist. Kaugel sellest. Ajal, mil ümberringi toimuvad lõppematud sõjad, viibivad pagulased eksiilis keskmiselt 17 aastat. Hany oli teist aastat pagenduses, kui ma tal viimati külas käisin ja me vestlesime terve aja inglise keeles, mille ta oli õppinud, nagu ta tunnistas, Dan Browni romaane lugedes ja Ameerika räppmuusikat kuulates. Meil oli ka naeru ja rõõmu täis hetki koos tema armastatud venna Ashrafiga. Ma ei unusta eal, mida ta ütles, kui me lõpetasime oma tookordse vestluse. Ta ütles mulle: "Kui ma pole õpilane, pole ma mitte keegi."
Hany is one of 50 million people uprooted in this world today. Never since World War II have so many people been forcibly displaced. So while we're making sweeping progress in human health, in technology, in education and design, we are doing dangerously little to help the victims and we are doing far too little to stop and prevent the wars that are driving them from their homes.
Hany on üks 50 miljonist inimesest, kes on oma kodust pagenud. Mitte kunagi peale II maailmasõda pole nii paljud inimesed olnud jõuga ümber paigutatud. Samal ajal kui me teeme suuri edusamme tervise ja tehnoloogia, hariduse ja disaini vallas, oleme me liikunud häbiväärselt vähe, aitamaks ohvreid ja me teeme kaugelt liiga vähe, et lõpetada ja ennetada sõdu, mis inimesi nende kodudest eemale kihutavad.
And there are more and more victims. Every day, on average, by the end of this day, 32,000 people will be forcibly displaced from their homes — 32,000 people. They flee across borders like this one. We captured this on the Syrian border to Jordan, and this is a typical day. Or they flee on unseaworthy and overcrowded boats, risking their lives in this case just to reach safety in Europe. This Syrian young man survived one of these boats that capsized — most of the people drowned — and he told us, "Syrians are just looking for a quiet place where nobody hurts you, where nobody humiliates you, and where nobody kills you." Well, I think that should be the minimum. How about a place of healing, of learning, and even opportunity? Americans and Europeans have the impression that proportionally huge numbers of refugees are coming to their country, but the reality is that 86 percent, the vast majority of refugees, are living in the developing world, in countries struggling with their own insecurity, with their own issues of helping their own populations and poverty. So wealthy countries in the world should recognize the humanity and the generosity of the countries that are hosting so many refugees. And all countries should make sure that no one fleeing war and persecution arrives at a closed border.
Ohvreid on üha rohkem. Iga päev, ka tänase päeva lõpuks, on keskmiselt 32 000 inimest sunnitud pagema oma kodudest, 32 000 inimest. Nad pagevad üle piiride nagu see. See kaader on salvestatud Süüria-Jordaania piiril, ja see on tavapärane päev. Paljud neist pagevad lagunevatel ja ülerahvastatud paatidel, riskides oma eludega, et jõuda turvalisse Euroopasse. See Süüria noormees pääses laevahukust, kus enamus inimestest uppus, ja ütles meile: "Süürlased otsivad rahulikku paika, kus keegi neile haiget ei teeks, kus keegi neid ei alandaks, kus keegi neid ei tapaks." Ma arvan, et see peaks olema vähim. Miks ei võiks see olla koht, kus nad saavad oma haavu ravida, õppida ja lootusrikkalt tulevikku vaadata? Ameeriklased ja eurooplased arvavad, et ebaproportsionaalselt palju pagulasi üritab nende riiki pääseda, kuid tegelikkus on see, et 86% ehk valdav enamus pagulastest elab arengumaades, riikides, kus puudub kindlus, riikides, kus on raskusi oma rahva aitamisega, riikides, kus valitseb vaesus. Jõukad riigid peaksid mõistma nende riikide inimlikkust ja lahkust, kes enda nigelatele oludele vaatamata nii palju pagulasi vastu võtavad. Kõik riigid peaksid kindlustama, et mitte keegi, kes pageb sõja ja tagakiusamise eest ei peaks suletud piiri taga seisma jääma.
(Applause)
(Aplaus)
Thank you.
Aitäh.
But there is something more that we can do than just simply helping refugees survive. We can help them thrive. We should think of refugee camps and communities as more than just temporary population centers where people languish waiting for the war to end. Rather, as centers of excellence, where refugees can triumph over their trauma and train for the day that they can go home as agents of positive change and social transformation.
Tegelikult saame me teha enamat, kui aidata pagulastel elus püsida. Me saame aidata neil särada. Me peaksime nägema pagulaslaagrites ja kogukondades enamat, kui lihtsalt ajutisi majutuskeskusi, kus inimesed kiratsevad sõja lõppu oodates. Me peaksime neid laagreid nägema arengut soodustavate keskustena, kus pagulased saavad üle neid kimbutavatest traumadest ja valmistuvad aktiivselt päevaks, mil nad saavad koju naaseda positiivse mõtteviisi kandjate ja ühiskonna taasloojatena.
It makes so much sense, but I'm reminded of the terrible war in Somalia that has been raging on for 22 years. And imagine living in this camp. I visited this camp. It's in Djibouti, neighboring Somalia, and it was so remote that we had to take a helicopter to fly there. It was dusty and it was terribly hot. And we went to visit a school and started talking to the children, and then I saw this girl across the room who looked to me to be the same age as my own daughter, and I went up and talked to her. And I asked her the questions that grown-ups ask kids, like, "What is your favorite subject?" and, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" And this is when her face turned blank, and she said to me, "I have no future. My schooling days are over." And I thought, there must be some misunderstanding, so I turned to my colleague and she confirmed to me there is no funding for secondary education in this camp. And how I wished at that moment that I could say to her, "We will build you a school." And I also thought, what a waste. She should be and she is the future of Somalia.
See on üdini loogiline, kuid mulle meenub kohutav sõda, mis Somaaliat viimased 22 aastat laastanud on. Kujutage ette elu selles laagris. Ma külastasin seda laagrit. See asub Somaalia külje all Dijboutis, see on kõigest nii kaugel, et me pidime sinna jõudmiseks helikopterit kasutama. Seal oli tolmune ja kohutavalt palav. Me külastasime üht kooli ja rääkisime seal õppivate lastega, kui ma nägin üht tüdrukut toa teises otsas, kes paistis samaealisena, kui mu enda tütar ning ma läksin temaga vestlema. Ma küsisin temalt küsimusi, mida täiskasvanud harilikult lastelt küsivad: "Mis on su lemmikõppeaine?" "Mida sa tahad teha, kui sa suureks kasvad?" Sel hetkel täitis ta pilku tühjus ja ta ütles mulle: "Mul pole tulevikku. Mu koolipäevad on läbi." Arvasin, et mõistan teda valesti ja pöördusin kolleegi poole, kes aga kinnitas, et selles laagris ei jagu raha keskhariduse pakkumiseks. Sel hetkel ei tahtnud ma muud, kui öelda sellele tüdrukule: "Me ehitame sulle kooli." Ühtlasi mõtlesin, milline raiskamine see on. Ta peaks olema ja on Somaalia tulevik.
A boy named Jacob Atem had a different chance, but not before he experienced terribly tragedy. He watched — this is in Sudan — as his village — he was only seven years old — burned to the ground, and he learned that his mother and his father and his entire family were killed that day. Only his cousin survived, and the two of them walked for seven months — this is boys like him — chased and pursued by wild animals and armed gangs, and they finally made it to refugee camps where they found safety, and he would spend the next seven years in Kenya in a refugee camp.
Poisil nimega Jacob Atem oli teistsugune võimalus, kuid mitte enne seda, kui teda oli tabanud kohutav tragöödia. Ta nägi – see on Sudaanis – kuidas tema küla – ta oli vaid 7-aastane – põles maani maha ja ta sai teada, et tema ema, isa ja kogu perekond hukkus sel päeval. Ainult tema nõbu jäi ellu ja nad kõndisid kahekesi seitse kuud – need on nendesarnased poisid – põigeldes metsloomade ja relvastatud jõuduke eest, ning jõudsid lõpuks pagulaslaagriteni, kust nad leidsid turvatunde, ja nad veetsid järgmised seitse aastat Keenia pagulaslaagris.
But his life changed when he got the chance to be resettled to the United States, and he found love in a foster family and he was able to go to school, and he wanted me to share with you this proud moment when he graduated from university.
Tema elu muutus kui talle pakuti võimalust minna Ameerikasse, kus armastav kasupere ta vastu võttis ja kus ta sai võimaluse minna kooli ja ta tahtis, et ma jagaksin teiega seda uhket hetke, mil ta lõpetas ülikooli.
(Applause)
(Aplaus)
I spoke to him on Skype the other day, and he was in his new university in Florida pursuing his Ph.D. in public health, and he proudly told me how he was able to raise enough funds from the American public to establish a health clinic back in his village back home.
Ma rääkisin temaga hiljuti Skype'is, ta oli parasjagu Floridas ülikoolis, kus ta omandab avaliku tervishoiu doktorikraadi ja ta ütles mulle uhkusega, et tal õnnestus koguda ameeriklastelt piisavalt toetusi, et rajada oma kodukülla kliinik.
So I want to take you back to Hany. When I told him I was going to have the chance to speak to you here on the TED stage, he allowed me to read you a poem that he sent in an email to me.
Ma pöördun korraks tagasi Hany poole. Kui ma ütlesin talle, et mul avaneb võimalus kõneleda teie ees TEDi laval, lubas ta mul lugeda teile ühe luuletuse, mille ta mulle meili teel saatis.
He wrote: "I miss myself, my friends, times of reading novels or writing poems, birds and tea in the morning. My room, my books, myself, and everything that was making me smile. Oh, oh, I had so many dreams that were about to be realized."
Ta kirjutas: "Ma igatsen iseend, oma sõpru, raamatute lugemist ja luuletuste kirjutamist, linde ja hommikust tassikest teed. Oma tuba, raamatuid, iseend ja kõike, mis mulle naeratuse näole tõi. Oi-oi, mul oli hulganisti unistusi, mis kõik ootasid oma hetke."
So here is my point: Not investing in refugees is a huge missed opportunity. Leave them abandoned, and they risk exploitation and abuse, and leave them unskilled and uneducated, and delay by years the return to peace and prosperity in their countries. I believe how we treat the uprooted will shape the future of our world. The victims of war can hold the keys to lasting peace, and it's the refugees who can stop the cycle of violence.
Minu sõnum on järgmine: pagulastesse mitte investeerimine on tohutu käest lastud võimalus. Kui me jätame nad hüljatuks, siis nad riskivad ärakasutamise ja kuritarvitamisega, kui jätame nad oskuste ja hariduseta, lükkub aastate võrra edasi nende naasemine koduriiki, rahu jalule seadmine ja elujärje parandamine. Ma usun siiralt, et see, kuidas me kohtleme kodudest pagendatuid, määrab meie maailma tuleviku. Sõjaohvrid on tee püsiva rahuni ja pagulased on need, kes saavad vägivallatsükli lõpetada.
Hany is at a tipping point. We would love to help him go to university and to become an engineer, but our funds are prioritized for the basics in life: tents and blankets and mattresses and kitchen sets, food rations and a bit of medicine. University is a luxury. But leave him to languish in this muddy field, and he will become a member of a lost generation. Hany's story is a tragedy, but it doesn't have to end that way.
Hany elu on murdepunktis. Meile meeldiks aidata tal ülikooli astuda ja inseneriks saada, kuid meie vahendid on suunatud elementaarseima hankimiseks: telgid, tekid, madratsid, köögikomplektid toiduportsjonid ja elementaarsed meditsiinivahendid. Ülikool on luksus. Kui jätame ta kiratsema sellele mudasele väljale, saab temast järjekorde liige kadunud põlvkonnas. Hany lugu on traagiline, kuid see ei pea sedasi lõppema.
Thank you.
Aitäh.
(Applause)
(Aplaus)