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?
Počela sam da radim sa izbeglicama jer sam želela da donesem promenu, a donošenje promena počinje pričanjem njihovih priča. Kada se sretnem sa izbeglicama, uvek im postavljam pitanja. Ko je bombardovao vašu kuću? Ko je ubio vašeg sina? Da li je ostatak vaše porodice preživeo? Kako se snalazite u vašem životu u izgnanstvu? Ali postoji jedno pitanje za koje mi se uvek čini da najviše otkriva, a to je: "Šta ste poneli sa sobom? Šta je bila ta najvažnija stvar koju ste morali da ponesete sa sobom kada su bombe eksplodirale u vašem gradu, a naoružane grupe se približavale vašoj kući?"
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."
Sirijski dečak izbeglica kojeg poznajem rekao mi je da nije oklevao kada je njegov život bio u neposrednoj opasnosti. Uzeo je svoju diplomu srednje škole, i kasnije mi je rekao zašto. Rekao je: "Uzeo sam moju diplomu srednje škole jer je moj život zavisio od nje." I rizikovao bi svoj život da uzme tu diplomu. Na putu za školu, izbegavao bi snajperiste. Njegova učionica se ponekad tresla od zvukova bombi i granata, i njegova majka mi je rekla: "Svakoga dana, rekla bih mu svakoga jutra: 'Dušo, molim te, ne idi u školu.'" A kada je insistirao, rekla je: "Zagrlila bih ga kao da je poslednji put." Ali rekao je svojoj majci: "Svi smo mi uplašeni, ali naša rešenost da diplomiramo je jača od našeg straha."
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.
Ali jednog dana, porodica je dobila užasne vesti. Hanijeva tetka, njegov teča i njegov rođak su ubijeni u svojim domovima jer su odbili da napuste svoju kuću. Njihovi vratovi su presečeni. Bilo je vreme da se beži.
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.
Otišli su tog dana, odmah, u svojim kolima, sa Hanijem sakrivenim pozadi jer su se suočavali sa kontrolnim punktovima pretećih vojnika. Prešli bi granicu sa Libanom, gde bi pronašli mir. Ali bi započeli život mukotrpnih poteškoća i monotonije. Nisu imali izbora nego da izgrade kolibu pokraj blatnjavog polja, i ovo je Hanijev brat Ašraf, koji se igra napolju.
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.
Tog dana, priključili su se najvećoj populaciji izbeglica na svetu, u zemlji Libanu, koja je mala. Ima samo četiri miliona građana, i milion sirijskih izbeglica koje tu žive. Ne postoji grad, selo ili varošica koje nije domaćin sirijskim izbeglicama. To je darežljivost i humanost koja je izuzetna. Mislite o tome na ovaj način, proporcionalno. To bi bilo kao kad bi čitava populacija Nemačke, 80 miliona ljudi, prebegla u Sjedinjene Države za svega tri godine. Polovina čitave populacije Sirije je sada iskorenjena, većina njih unutar zemlje. Šest i po miliona ljudi je pobeglo da spasu svoje živote. Mnogo više od tri miliona ljudi je prešlo granice i pronašlo utočište u susednim zemljama, a samo mali udeo se, kao što vidite, preselio u Evropu. Ono što smatram najviše zabrinjavajućim je da polovinu svih sirijskih izbeglica čine deca. Slikala sam ovu malu devojčicu. Bilo je to samo dva sata nakon što je stigla posle dugog puta iz Sirije u Jordan.
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.
A najviše od svega zabrinjava da samo 20 procenata sirijske dece izbeglica pohađa školu u Libanu. A ipak, sirijska deca izbeglice, sva deca izbeglice nam govore da je obrazovanje najvažnija stvar u njihovim životima. Zašto? Jer im omogućava da razmišljaju o svojoj budućnosti umesto o košmarima prošlosti. Omogućava im da misle o nadi umesto o mržnji.
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?
Sećam se svoje skorašnje posete kampu sirijskih izbeglica u severnom Iraku, upoznala sam tu devojčicu, i pomislila sam: "Prelepa je", prišla sam joj i pitala je: "Mogu li da te slikam?" Ona je prihvatila, ali je odbila da se nasmeje. Mislim da nije mogla, zato što mislim da shvata da predstavlja izgubljenu generaciju sirijske dece izbeglica, izolovanu i frustriranu generaciju. A ipak, pogledajte pred čime su pobegli: krajnje razaranje, građevina, privrede, škola, puteva, domova. Hanijev dom je takođe uništen. To će morati da obnove arhitekate, inženjeri, električari. Zajednici će biti potrebni učitelji i advokati i političari sa pomirenjem u interesu, a ne osvetom. Zar to ne bi trebalo da obnove ljudi sa najvećim interesom, društva u izgnanstvu, izbeglice?
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."
Izbeglice imaju mnogo vremena da se pripreme za svoj povratak. Možda pretpostavljate da je biti izbeglica samo privremeno stanje. Daleko od toga. Sa ratovima koji se stalno odvijaju, prosečno vreme koje će izbeglica provesti u izgnanstvu je 17 godina. Hani je drugu godinu bio u čistilištu kada sam nedavno otišla da ga posetim, i obavili smo ceo naš razgovor na engleskom, za koji mi je priznao da je naučio čitajući sve romane Dena Brauna i slušajući američki rep. Takođe smo proveli par lepih trenutaka u smehu i zabavi sa njegovim voljenim bratom Ašrafom. Ali nikada neću zaboraviti šta mi je rekao kada smo završili razgovor toga dana. Rekao mi je: "Ako nisam učenik, nisam ništa."
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.
Hani je jedan od 50 miliona ljudi koji su danas u svetu iščupani iz korena. Još od Drugog svetskog rata nikad nije toliko ljudi bilo prisilno raseljeno. Dakle, dok pravimo sveopšti napredak u ljudskom zdravlju, tehnologiji, obrazovanju i dizajnu, činimo opasno malo da pomognemo žrtvama i činimo premalo da zaustavimo i sprečimo ratove koji ih teraju iz svojih domova.
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.
A ima sve više i više žrtava. Svakoga dana, u proseku, do kraja ovog dana, 32 000 ljudi će biti prisilno raseljeno iz svojih domova - 32 000 ljudi. Oni beže preko granica kao što je ova. Ovo smo zabeležili na granici Sirije sa Jordanom, i ovo je tipičan dan. Ili beže na nepodesnim i pretrpanim čamcima, rizikujući svoje živote u ovom slučaju samo da stignu na sigurno u Evropu. Ovaj sirijski mladić je preživeo jedan od ovih čamaca koji se prevrnuo - većina ljudi se udavila - i rekao nam je: "Sirijci samo traže mirno mesto gde te niko neće povrediti, gde te niko neće ponižavati, i gde te niko neće ubiti." Pa, mislim da bi to trebalo da bude minimum. A šta je sa mestom isceljenja, učenja, i čak mogućnosti? Amerikanci i Evropljani imaju utisak da proporcionalno ogroman broj izbeglica dolazi u njihovu zemlju, ali stvarnost je da 86 procenata, velika većina izbeglica, živi u zemljama u razvoju, u zemljama koje se bore sa sopstvenom nesigurnošću, sa sopstvenim problemima pomaganja svojoj populaciji i siromaštvom. Zato bogate zemlje sveta treba da prepoznaju humanost i darežljivost zemalja koje ugošćavaju toliko izbeglica. I sve zemlje treba da se postaraju da niko od onih koji beže od rata i progona ne dođe do zatvorene granice.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
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.
Ali postoji još nešto što možemo učiniti umesto da prosto pomognemo izbeglicama da prežive. Možemo im pomoći da se razvijaju. Trebalo bi da razmišljamo o izbegličkim kampovima i zajednicama kao nečemu što je više od privremenih centara za zbrinjavanje gde ljudi čame, čekajući da se rat završi. Treba da budu centri izvrsnosti, gde izbeglice mogu trijumfovati nad svojom traumom i vežbati za dan kada budu mogli da odu kući kao pokretači pozitivne promene i društvenog preobražaja.
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.
To ima tako mnogo smisla, ali se sećam užasnog rata u Somaliji koji je besneo 22 godine. Zamislite da živite u ovom kampu. Posetila sam ovaj kamp. Nalazi se u Džibutiju, u susedstvu Somalije, i bio je tako zabačen da smo morali da doletimo tamo helikopterom. Bilo je prašnjavo i užasno vruće. Išli smo u posetu školi i počeli da pričamo sa decom, i tada sam videla tu devojčicu na kraju sobe koja je izgledala kao da je istog uzrasta kao moja ćerka, i otišla sam da pričam sa njom. Postavila sam joj pitanja koja odrasli postavljaju deci, kao što su: "Koji je tvoj omiljeni predmet?" i "Šta želiš da budeš kada porasteš?" I tada joj je lice postalo bezizražajno, i rekla mi je: "Ja nemam budućnost. Moji dani školovanja su završeni." Pomislila sam, mora da postoji neki nesporazum. pa sam se okrenula ka svojoj koleginici i ona mi je potvrdila da nema sredstava za srednjoškolsko obrazovanje u ovom kampu. Kako sam želela u tom trenutku da mogu da joj kažem: "Sagradićemo ti školu." I takođe sam pomislila, kakva šteta. Ona bi trebalo da bude i ona jeste budućnost Somalije.
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.
Dečak po imenu Džejkob Atem imao je drugačiju priliku, ali nakon što je iskusio užasnu tragediju. Posmatrao je - ovo je u Sudanu - kako njegovo selo - imao je samo sedam godina - gori do temelja, i saznao je da su njegova majka i otac i njegova cela porodica ubijeni tog dana. Samo njegov rođak je preživeo, i njih dvojica su pešačili sedam meseci - ovo su dečaci poput njega - dok su ga jurile i ganjale divlje životinje i naoružane bande, i konačno su stigli do izbegličkih kampova gde su našli sigurnost, i on će provesti narednih sedam godina u Keniji u izbegličkom kampu.
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.
Ali njegov život se promenio kada je dobio priliku da se preseli u Sjedinjene Države, i pronašao je ljubav u hraniteljskoj porodici i bio je u mogućnosti da ide u školu, i želeo je da podelim sa vama ovaj ponosni momenat kada je diplomirao na fakultetu.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
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.
Pričala sam sa njim na Skajpu pre neki dan, bio je na njegovom novom univerzitetu na Floridi, na putu da postane doktor nauka iz oblasti javnog zdravlja, i ponosno mi je rekao da je uspeo da sakupi dovoljno sredstava od američke javnosti da osnuje zdravstvenu kliniku u svom selu.
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.
Hoću da vas vratim na Hanija. Kada sam mu rekla da ću imati priliku da vam govorim ovde na TED bini, dozvolio mi je da vam pročitam pesmu koju mi je poslao u imejlu.
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."
Napisao je: "Nedostajem mi ja, moji prijatelji, trenuci čitanja romana ili pisanja pesama, ptice i čaj ujutru. Moja soba, moje knjige, ja, sve što mi je donosilo osmeh. O, o, imao sam toliko snova koji je trebalo da se ostvare."
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.
Dakle evo moje poente: ne investirati u izbeglice je ogromna propuštena prilika. Ostavite ih napuštenim, i oni rizikuju da ih izrabljuju i zlostavljaju, i ostavite ih nekvalifikovanim i neobrazovanim, i odlažete godine do povratka mira i blagostanja u njihovim zemljama. Verujem da će način na koji tretiramo raseljene oblikovati budućnost našeg sveta. Žrtve rata možda imaju ključ trajnog mira, i možda baš izbeglice mogu zaustaviti ciklus nasilja.
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.
Hani je na prekretnici. Voleli bismo da mu pomognemo da krene na fakultet i postane inženjer, ali naša sredstva daju prioritet osnovnim stvarima u životu: šatorima, ćebadima, dušecima, kuhinjskim kompletima, obrocima i ponekim lekovima. Fakultet je luksuz. Ali ostavite ga da propada u tom blatnjavom polju, i postaće deo izgubljene generacije. Hanijeva priča je tragedija, ali ne mora se završiti na taj način.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)