My inbox is full of hate mails and personal abuse and has been for years. In 2010, I started answering those mails and suggesting to the writer that we might meet for coffee and a chat. I have had hundreds of encounters. They have taught me something important that I want to share with you.
Kisanduku pokezi changu kimejaa barua za chuki na matusi binafsi na imekua hivi kwa miaka. Mwaka 2010, nilianza kujibu barua hizo na kumshauri anaeandika kua tunaweza kukutana kwa kahawa na maongezi. Nimeshakuwa na mamia ya hali hizo. Wamenifundisha kitu muhimu ninachotaka kuwashirikisha.
I was born in Turkey from Kurdish parents and we moved to Denmark when I was a young child. In 2007, I ran for a seat in the Danish parliament as one of the first women with a minority background. I was elected, but I soon found out that not everyone was happy about it as I had to quickly get used to finding hate messages in my inbox. Those emails would begin with something like this: "What's a raghead like you doing in our parliament?" I never answered. I'd just delete the emails. I just thought that the senders and I had nothing in common. They didn't understand me, and I didn't understand them. Then one day, one of my colleagues in the parliament said that I should save the hate mails. "When something happens to you, it will give the police a lead."
Nimezaliwa Uturuki kwa wazazi kutoka Kurdish na tukahamia Denmark nilivyokua mtoto mdogo. Mwaka 2007, niligombania kiti kwenye bunge la Denmark kama moja wa wanawake wa kwanza walio na chimbuko kutoka jamii ndogo. Nikachaguliwa, lakini mara nikagundua kua si kila mtu alifurahishwa ilivyonibidi kuzoea haraka kupata ujumbe wa chuki kwenye kisanduku pokezi. Hizo barua zingeanza na kitu kama hiki: "Mvaa kilemba kama wewe anafanya nini bungeni kwetu?" Sikuwahi kujibu. Ninafuta tu hizo barua. Nawaza tu kua watumaji na mimi hatuna mfanano wowote. Hawakunielewa mimi, na mimi sikuwaelewa wao. Ndipo siku moja, mwenzangu mmoja kwenye bunge akasema kua ningetakiwa kutunza barua za chuki. "Pale kitu kinapokutokea, itawapa polisi mwongozo."
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
I noticed that she said, "When something happens" and not "if."
Niliona kua alisema, "Pale kitu kinapotokea" na sio "kama."
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
Sometimes hateful letters were also sent to my home address. The more I became involved in public debate, the more hate mail and threats I received. After a while, I got a secret address and I had to take extra precautions to protect my family. Then in 2010, a Nazi began to harass me. It was a man who had attacked Muslim women on the street. Over time, it became much worse. I was at the zoo with my children, and the phone was ringing constantly. It was the Nazi. I had the impression that he was close. We headed home. When we got back, my son asked, "Why does he hate you so much, Mom, when he doesn't even know you?" "Some people are just stupid," I said. And at the time, I actually thought that was a pretty clever answer. And I suspect that that is the answer most of us would give. The others -- they are stupid, brainwashed, ignorant. We are the good guys and they are the bad guys, period.
Mara nyingine barua za chuki zilitumwa kwenye anwani ya nyumbani pia. Kadri nilivyozidi kuhusika kwenye mjadala wa umma, nilipokea barua za chuki na vitisho kwa wingi. Baada ya mda, nikapata anwani ya siri na ilibidi nichukue tahadhari ya ziada kulinda familia yangu. Kisha mwaka 2010, Mnazi alianza kuniyanyasa. Ilikua ni mtu alieshambulia wanawake Waislamu barabarani. Baada ya muda, ikawa mbaya zaidi. Nilikua bustani ya mwanyama na wanangu, na simu ilikua ikiita mara kwa mara. Ilikua ni yule Nazi. Nilikua na hisia kua yuko karibu. Tukaelekea nyumbani. Tulivyorudi, kijana wangu akauliza, "Kwanini anakuchukia sana, Mama, wakati hata hakujui?" "Kuna watu ni wajinga tu," Nilisema. Na mda huo, ki ukweli niliwaza kua hilo lilikua jibu lenye werevu. Na nikahisi kua hilo ndo jibu wengi wetu wangetoa. Wengine -- ni wapumbavu, wafwata mikumbo, wajinga. Sisi ndio watu wazuri na wao ndio watu wabaya, mwisho.
Several weeks later I was at a friend's house, and I was very upset and angry about all the hate and racism I had met. It was he who suggested that I should call them up and visit them. "They will kill me," I said. "They would never attack a member of the Danish Parliament," he said. "And anyway, if they killed you, you would become a martyr."
Wiki kadhaa baadae nilikua nyumbani kwa rafiki yangu, na nilikua nimesikitika kweli na hasira kuhusu chuki zote na ubaguzi wa rangi nliokutana nao. Ilikua ni yeye aliependekeza natakiwa niwapigie na niwatembelee. "Wataniua," nilisema. "Hawawezi kushambulia mshiriki wa bunge la Denmark," alisema. "Na hata hivyo, kama wakikuua, utakua shahidi."
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
"So it's pure win-win situation for you."
"Hivyo kwako utakua umeshinda pande zote."
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
His advice was so unexpected, when I got home, I turned on my computer and opened the folder where I had saved all the hate mail. There were literally hundreds of them. Emails that started with words like "terrorist," "raghead," "rat," "whore." I decided to contact the one who had sent me the most. His name was Ingolf. I decided to contact him just once so I could say at least I had tried. To my surprise and shock, he answered the phone. I blurted out, "Hello, my name is Özlem. You have sent me so many hate mails. You don't know me, I don't know you. I was wondering if I could come around and we can drink a coffee together and talk about it?"
Ushauri wake ulikua usiotarajiwa, nilipofika nyumbani, nikawasha kompyuta na nikafungua kabrasha ambalo nilitunza barua zote za chuki. Ki halisi ilikua ma mia ya barua. Barua zilizoanza na maneno kama "ugaidi," "mvaa kilemba," "panya," "kahaba." Nikaamua kuwasiliana na yule alienitumia nyingi. Jina lake lilikua Ingolf. Niliamua kuwasiliana nae mara moja tu ili niseme angalau nilijaribu. Kwa mshangao na mshtuko wangu, alijibu simu yake, Nikaropoka, "Habari, jina langu ni Ozlem. Umenitumia barua pepe nyingi za chuki. Hunijui, sikujui. Nilikua nawaza kama naweza kuja na kunywa kahawa pamoja na kuongelea kuhusu hilo?"
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
There was silence on the line. And then he said, "I have to ask my wife."
Kulikua na ukimya kwenye laini. Na kisha akasema, "Itabidi nimuulize mke wangu,"
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
What? The racist has a wife?
Nini? Mbaguzi wa rangi ana mke?
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
A couple of days later, we met at his house. I will never forget when he opened his front door and reached out to shake my hand. I felt so disappointed.
Siku kadhaa mbeleni, tulikutana nyumbani kwake. Sitokaa kusahau alivyofungua mlango wake wa mbele na kutoka na kunipa mkono. Nilisikitika sana.
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
because he looked nothing like I'd imagined. I had expected a horrible person -- dirty, messy house. It was not. His house smelled of coffee which was served from a coffee set identical to the one my parents used. I ended up staying for two and a half hours. And we had so many things in common. Even our prejudices were alike.
kwa sababu hakuonekana chochote nilichomfikiria. Nilitegemea mtu wa kutisha -- mchafu, nyumba chafu. Haikua hivyo. Nyumba yake ilinukia kahawa iliohudumiwa kwenye kiwekea kahawa kilichofanana na cha wazazi wangu. Nikaishia kubaki kwa masaa mawili na nusu. Na tulikua na vitu vingi vya tunafanana. Ata chuki zetu zilikua zinafanana.
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
Ingolf told me that when he waits for the bus and the bus stops 10 meters away from him, it was because the driver was a "raghead." I recognized that feeling. When I was young and I waited for the bus and it stopped 10 meters away from me, I was sure that the driver was a racist.
Ingolf aliniambia kua anapongojea basi na basi linasimama mita 10 mbali na yeye, ilikua kwa sababu dereva alikua "mvaa kilemba." Nilitambua hio hisia. Nilivyokua mdogo na nikingoja basi na lingesimama mita 10 mbali na mimi, nilikua nina uhakika dereva alikua mbaguzi wa rangi.
When I got home, I was very ambivalent about my experience. On the one hand, I really liked Ingolf. He was easy and pleasant to talk to, but on the other hand, I couldn't stand the idea of having so much in common with someone who had such clearly racist views. Gradually, and painfully, I came to realize that I had been just as judgmental of those who had sent me hate mails as they had been of me.
Nilipofika nyumbani, nilikua nina mashaka kuhusu hio hali. Kwa upande mmoja, nilipendezwa kweli na Ingolf. Alikua rahisi na mzuri kuongea nae, ila kwa upande mwingine, sikuweza kuvumilia wazo la kua na vitu vingi vinanvyofanana na mtu ambae ni wazi ana mtazamo wa ubaguzi wa rangi. Taratibu, na kwa maumivu, nikaja kutambua kua nilikua mhukumu kama tu wale waliokua wakinitumia barua za chuki kama zilivyokua kwangu.
This was the beginning of what I call #dialoguecoffee. Basically, I sit down for coffee with people who have said the most terrible things to me to try to understand why they hate people like me when they don't even know me. I have been doing this the last eight years. The vast majority of people I approach agree to meet me. Most of them are men, but I have also met women. I have made it a rule to always meet them in their house to convey from the outset that I trust them. I always bring food because when we eat together, it is easier to find what we have in common and make peace together.
Huu ulikua mwanzo wa nilichoita #mazungumzokahawa. Kimsingi, nakaa kwa kahawa na watu waliosema mambo ya kutisha kwangu na kujaribu kuelewa kwanini wanachukia watu kama mimi wakati hata hawanijui. Nimekua nikifanya hivi miaka nane iliopita. Idadi kubwa ya watu ninaowafuata wanakubali kukutana nami. Wengi wao ni wanaume, lakini nimekutana pia na wanawake. Nimefanya kama kanuni kukutana nyumbani kwao daima kuonyesha kwa nje kua ninawaamini. Naleta chakula mara kwa mara kwa sababu tunapokula pamoja, ni rahisi kujua nini tunacho cha kufanana na kuwa na amani kwa pamoja.
Along the way, I have learned some valuable lessons. The people who sent hate mails are workers, husbands, wives, parents like you and me. I'm not saying that their behavior is acceptable, but I have learned to distance myself from the hateful views without distancing myself from the person who's expressing those views. And I have discovered that the people I visit are just as afraid of people they don't know as I was afraid of them before I started inviting myself for coffee.
Pamoja na njia hii, nimejifunza mafunzo ya thamani. Watu waliotuma barua za chuki ni wafanyakazi, waume, wake, wazazi kama wewe na mimi. Sisemi kua tabia yao inakubalika, lakini nimejifunza kujiweka mbali na maoni ya chuki bila kujiweka mbali na mtu anayetoa hayo maoni. Nimegundua kua watu ninaowatembelea wana uwoga kama tu wa watu wasiowajua kama nilivyokua nawaogopa kabla sijaanza kujialika kwenye kahawa.
During these meetings, a specific theme keeps coming up. It shows up regardless whether I'm talking to a humanist or a racist, a man, a woman, a Muslim or an atheist. They all seem to think that other people are to blame for the hate and for the generalization of groups. They all believe that other people have to stop demonizing. They point at politicians, the media, their neighbor or the bus driver who stops 10 meters away. But when I asked, "What about you? What can you do?", the reply is usually, "What can I do? I have no influence. I have no power." I know that feeling. For a large part of my life, I also thought that I didn't have any power or influence -- even when I was a member of the Danish parliament. But today I know the reality is different. We all have power and influence where we are, so we must never, never underestimate our own potential.
Kwenye vikao hivi, mandhari maalum inaibuka. Inaonyesha kua bila kujai ninaongea na mwenye utu au mbaguzi wa rangi, mwanaume. mwanamke, Muislamu au mkanamungu. Wote wanaonekana kufikiri kua watu wengine ndio wa kulaumiwa kwa hizo chuki na kwa kujumuisha makundi. Wote wanaamini kua watu wengine wanatakiwa kuacha ushetani. Wananyooshea wanasiasa, vyombo vya habari, na jirani zao au dereva wa basi anaesimama mita 10 mbali. Lakini nilivyouliza, "Wewe je? Wewe unaweza kufanya nini?", jibu ni kama kawaida, "Nini naweza kufanya? Sina ushawishi. Sina nguvu." Najua hiyo hisia. Kwa mda mkubwa wa maisha yangu, Niliwaza pia kua sina nguvu au ushawishi -- hata nilivyokua mshiriki wa bunge la Denmark. Lakini leo najua ukweli ni tofauti. Sisi sote tuna nguvu na ushawishi popote tulipo, hivyo hatutakiwi kamwe, kamwe kushusha uwezo wetu.
The #dialoguecoffee meetings have taught me that people of all political convictions can be caught demonizing the others with different views. I know what I'm talking about. As a young child, I hated different population groups. And at the time, my religious views were very extreme. But my friendship with Turks, with Danes, with Jews and with racists has vaccinated me against my own prejudices. I grew up in a working-class family, and on my journey I have met many people who have insisted on speaking to me. They have changed my views. They have formed me as a democratic citizen and a bridge builder. If you want to prevent hate and violence, we have to talk to as many people as possible for as long as possible while being as open as possible. That can only be achieved through debate, critical conversation and insisting on dialogue that doesn't demonize people.
Vikao vya #mazungumzokahawa vimenifundisha watu wa hukumu zote za kisiasa wanaweza jikuta wanawachukulia vibaya wale wengine wenye maoni tofauti. Najua ninachokiongelea. Nikiwa mtoto mdogo, nilichukia makudi tofauti ya watu. Na mda huo, maoni yangu ya kidini yalikua yamekithiri. Lakini urafiki wangu na Waturuki, na Wadeni, na Wayahudi na wabaguzi wa rangi umenichanjia dhidi ya chuki zangu mwenyewe. Nilikua kwenye familia ya wafanya kazi, na kwenye safari yangu nimekutana na watu wengi waliosisitiza kuongea nami. Wamebadilisha maoni yangu. Wamenifanya kama mwananchi wa demokrasia na mjenga daraja. Kama unataka kuzuia chuki na vurugu, tunatakiwa tuongee na watu wengi iwezekanavyo kwa mda mrefu uwezekanao tukiwa wawazi tunavyoweza. Hio inaweza kufanikiwa kupitia malumbano, maongezi ya muhimu na kusisitiza kwenye mazungumzo yasiyofanya watu kuwa wabaya.
I'm going to ask you a question. I invite you to think about it when you get home and in the coming days, but you have to be honest with yourself. It should be easy, no one else will know it. The question is this ... who do you demonize? Do you think supporters of American President Trump are deplorables? Or that those who voted for Turkish President Erdoğan are crazy Islamists? Or that those who voted for Le Pen in France are stupid fascists? Or perhaps you think that Americans who voted for Bernie Sanders are immature hippies.
Nitawauliza swali moja. Ninawakaribisha kulifikiria mkifika nyumbani na siku zinazokuja, lakini unatakiwa uwe mkweli na wewe mwenyewe. Inatakiwa kuwa rahisi, hakuna mwingine atakaejua. Hilo swali ni hili ... Ni nani unaemuona mbaya? Unafikiri wafuasi wa Raisi wa Marekani Trump wana bahati mbaya? Au wale waliompigia kura Raisi wa Turkey Erdogan ni Waislamu wenye wazimu? Au wale waliopiga kura kwa Le Pen Ufaransa ni wafashisti wajinga? Au pengine unafikiri kua Wamarekani waliompigia kura Bernie Sanders ni wahuni wachanga.
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
All those words have been used to vilify those groups. Maybe at this point, do you think I am an idealist?
Maneno yote hayo yametumika kuhakiri hayo makundi. Labda kwenye hatua hii, unafikiri mimi ni mdhanifu?
I want to give you a challenge. Before the end of this year, I challenge you to invite someone who you demonize -- someone who you disagree with politically and/or culturally and don't think you have anything in common with. I challenge you to invite someone like this to #dialoguecoffee. Remember Ingolf? Basically, I'm asking you to find an Ingolf in your life, contact him or her and suggest that you can meet for #dialoguecofee.
Nataka nikupe changamoto. Kabla mwisho wa mwaka huu, nawaita kumkaribisha mtu unaemuona mbaya -- mtu usiekubaliana nae kisiasa na/au kiutamaduni na unaefikiri hauna chochote mnachofanana. Nawaita kualika mtu kama huyo kwenye #mazungumzokahawa. Mnamkumbuka Ingolf? Kimsingi, nawaomba mmtafute Ignolf kwenye maisha yenu, wasiliana nae na pendekeza kua mkutane kwa #mazungumzokahawa.
When you start at #dialoguecoffee, you have to remember this: first, don't give up if the person refuses at first. Sometimes it's taken me nearly one year to arrange a #dialoguecoffee meeting. Two: acknowledge the other person's courage. It isn't just you who's brave. The one who's inviting you into their home is just as brave. Three: don't judge during the conversation. Make sure that most of the conversation focuses on what you have in common. As I said, bring food. And finally, remember to finish the conversation in a positive way because you are going to meet again. A bridge can't be built in one day.
Unapoanza kwenye #mazungumzokahawa, unatakiwa kukumbuka hili: kwanza, usikate tamaa kama mtu akikataa mwanzoni. Mara nyingine inanichukua karibia mwaka kupanga kikao cha #mazungumzokahawa. Pili: tambua ujasiri wa yule mtu mwingine. Sio wewe tu ambae ni jasiri. Yule anaekualika nyumbani kwake ni jasiri pia. Tatu: usihukumu kwenye mazungumzo. Hakikisha kua mazungumzo mengi yanalenga vitu mnavyofanana. Kama nilivyosema, leta chakula. Na mwisho, kumbuka kumaliza mazungumzo vyema kwa sababu mtakutana tena. Daraja haliwezi kujengwa siku moja.
We are living in a world where many people hold definitive and often extreme opinions about the others without knowing much about them. We notice of course the prejudices on the other side than in our own bases. And we ban them from our lives. We delete the hate mails. We hang out only with people who think like us and talk about the others in a category of disdain. We unfriend people on Facebook, and when we meet people who are discriminating or dehumanizing people or groups, we don't insist on speaking with them to challenge their opinions. That's how healthy democratic societies break down -- when we don't check the personal responsibility for the democracy. We take the democracy for granted. It is not. Conversation is the most difficult thing in a democracy and also the most important.
Tunaishi kwenye dunia ambayo watu wengi wanashikilia kiyakinifu na sana maoni yaliokithiri kuhusu wengine bila kujua chochote kuhusu wao. Tunaona bila shaka zile chuki za upande mwingine kuliko za kwetu. Na tunazizuia kwenye maisha yetu. Tunafuta barua za chuki. Tunatembea na watu wenye fikra kama zetu tu na kuongelea wengine kwenye aina isiyostahili. Tunasitisha urafiki huko Facebook, na tunapokutana watu wenye ubaguzi au wasio na utu kwa watu au makundi, hatusisitizi kuongea nao ili maoni yao yawe na changamoto. Hivyo ndivyo jinsi demokrasia yenye afya kwenye jamii inavunjika -- tusipokagua wajibu wa mtu binafsi kwa ajili ya demokrasia. Tunachukua demokrasia kwa kupuuzia. Ambayo sio. Mazungumzo ni jambo gumu sana kwenye demokrasia na pia muhimu sana.
So here's my challenge. Find your Ingolf.
Hivyo, changamoto yangu ni hii. Tafuta Ingolf wako.
(Laughter)
(Kicheko)
Start a conversation. Trenches have been dug between people, yes, but we all have the ability to build the bridges that cross the trenches.
Anza mazungumzo. Mifereji imechimbwa kati ya watu, ndio, lakini tunauwezo wa kujenga madaraja yanayovuka hio mifereji.
And let me end by quoting my friend, Sergeot Uzan, who lost his son, Dan Uzan, in a terror attack on a Jewish synagogue in Copenhagen, 2015. Sergio rejected any suggestion of revenge and instead said this ... "Evil can only be defeated by kindness between people. Kindness demands courage." Dear friends, let's be courageous.
Na naomba nimalizie kwa kumnukuu rafiki yangu, Sergeot Uzan, aliempoteza mwanae, Dan Uzan, kwenye shambulizi la kigaidi kwenye sinagogi la Kiyehudi huko Copenhagen, 2015. Sergio alikataa wazo lolote la kisasi na badala yake akasema hivi ... "Ubaya unashindwa tu kwa wema kati ya watu. Wema unadai ujasiri." Wapendwa marafiki, tuwe wajasiri.
Thank you.
Asanteni.
(Applause)
(Makofi)