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February 12, 2006
Cardin, Cameroon
The first thing I learned about Cardin was that he was a soccer player. I learned he’s originally from Cameroon and now plays soccer professionally here in Ceuta. When I met him a few weeks ago, I realized the next home game would be after we were gone and I didn’t pursue too much conversation.
I ran into him again yesterday, or rather, he ran into me, as he passed by the Cruz Blanca on his way to visit friends in CETI. He said sometimes he gets distracted along the way and doesn’t make it the whole way there. Our visit ended up being one of those times, and I spent a good part of the afternoon mostly listening to Cardin’s stories.
Cardin Zuzu’s mother died when he was quite young, and his father, who worked as a trainer with one of Cameroon’s professional soccer teams, had him playing with the ball as soon as he was walking and talking. Sadly, his father died a few years later, when Cardin was around 10 or 11. He had already made his entrance into the soccer world, and by the time he was 12 or 13 he was playing with the national sub-20 team that traveled all around Africa. He and his younger sister left Cameroon soon afterwards, because the money their parents had left them was being swindled away by corrupt government. They went to Ivory Coast, where Cardin again played soccer professionally as a teenager.
When Cardin was 16, he left Ivory Coast to go to Europe. He traveled mostly by bus and walking to get into Morocco, and entered Ceuta swimming. When he arrived here three years ago, most people from Cameroon were being rejected for asylum, but because Cardin was a minor, he was granted residency. He was received by a home for immigrants that was run by Catholic nuns, just up the street from the Cruz Blanca on Avenida España. Although they no longer offer food and bedrooms, this organization still works with immigrants, giving classes to those who want to learn Spanish.
Since Cardin has been in Ceuta, he has been able to take classes, especially studying computers, and play with the city’s soccer team which is in Spain’s Division 2B. He has returned to the school that had taken him in so that he can help teach his compatriots the local language. The apartment he rents for a reasonable price has more rooms than he needs, and a few times he has opened up his place to immigrants who have not yet received documentation. Unfortunately, neighbors called the police on him twice: the first time he was fined 350 € and the second 500 €. Since then he has been reluctant to receive them into his own apartment.
Although he never lived in CETI, he has been friends with fellow French-speaking Africans and plays soccer with them there. He receives 15 free tickets for each home game in Ceuta, and he usually gives them to his friends in CETI. He was quick to offer me a ticket for Saturday, Feb. 18th. I hope it works out to go.
Cardin’s dream is to continue playing soccer in Europe. Samuel Eto'o, who is two years older, grew up in the same barrio and now plays offense for Barcelona, the highest ranked team in the Spain’s league right now. Cardin pulled out his cell phone to show me his friend’s picture (which was alongside Ronaldinho) and phone number.
A few months ago, a scout one of France’s division 1 teams came to watch Cardin play and liked what he saw. They have kept in contact, and now there are plans to travel to France at the end of the month to begin training with his new team there. He has been to France and really likes it there, especially because he speaks their language. He will be more than happy to play, even for a lower salary, with a Division 1 team. “If things go well, I’ll send you a ticket and fly you over from the states to watch a game if you want,” he told me. I wish him the best and will look forward to seeing him play in France.
Posted by Derrick at 05:55 PM | Comments (1)
February 10, 2006
Godwin, Spiritual Refugee
Most everyone I have talked to here so far has left their country because of problems with violence, politics, or economics. Godwin is the first person I’ve met who is on the run from a spiritual threat.
He was born in a rural area in Ghana, where his father was a priest in the local tribal religion. When he died a few years ago, it would have been Godwin’s older brother’s duty to fill the role. He refused and before long he died, not by a car accident or disease, but the people said it was because of the curse they had put on him. They looked to Godwin to follow his father’s path next.
Godwin had met some missionaries from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints who led him to see the darkness of the religion that was being practiced, and he found freedom and new life in Jesus. Before he said he could do all the practices of the tribal religion, like walking in the rain and not getting wet, offering sacrifices to the gods, and other traditions, but he came to see that these things were not right. When they looked to him to step up into the priest’s role, he chose to take his wife and flee the country.
Godwin had been educated nearly through high school and worked as a farmer while he was in Ghana. His family had been fairly well off, so he has had the privilege of studying English and when he left Ghana he was able to travel with a sufficient amount of money. Before long, his wife died. Again, he said the people would say that it was the spiritual powers that took her life. He continued traveling alone.
He traveled to Morocco in 2003, where he met a woman from Nigeria. They lived together and had a son. The son was an unexpected difficulty for Godwin, because if anyone would learn about his situation, the son could be returned to his people and be taken and raised as the priest that would pursue him. He told me that his life is now desired as a sacrifice to appease the land. They wouldn’t sacrifice with weapons, but they take lives through spiritual powers.
After a few years in Morocco, his girlfriend was somehow processed by police to see whether she would return to Nigeria or be moved along to the peninsula. Again, Godwin was afraid that if she and his son would return to Nigeria, his son might still end up back in his hometown. He was very glad to see them approved, and they now live in Sevilla.
Two days ago, Godwin paid 1,500 € to swim early in the morning into Ceuta. He has been housed here at the Cruz Blanca until further processing. He would like to continue to England where he speaks the language, but would be most happy to be outside of Africa where he will feel safe. He told me that I’m the first person in Ceuta that he’s told his story to; he tells most Africans who ask that he’s from Liberia or somewhere. Until he is off this continent, he is cautious about where his story goes.
In a good number of years, he says he hopes to be in a position to return to Ghana at least for a time, not to his hometown, but to the main city nearby where he can live safely and tell people about the freedom found in Jesus. He says he still considers himself new in the faith, and doesn’t know much about the Book of Mormon, but feels like the Spirit has led him to be primarily interested in the Bible. Godwin is not his given name, but the name he has taken with his new identity, largely for his own safety. I pray the God of love and peace continues to guide and bless him in his travels.
Posted by Derrick at 05:55 PM | Comments (0)
February 08, 2006
The Cartoon Crisis
Here in the Cruz Blanca there are about as many Muslims as there are Catholics. For the most part, they work side by side without any trouble. It seems like ther are lots of arguments about little things, but they happen between everybody. Many mornings we hear big discussions about who’s turn it is to wash the breakfast dishes. There’s one ongoing argument I’ve been hearing over whether Ceuta was ever under Muslim control. The Spanish insist that it has always been a European territory.
I read on the BBC news a number of days ago about the political cartoons that were drawn of Mohammad as a terrorist. It wasn’t for another day or two until I started to hear more and more about it here around the Cruz Blanca. The real discussion came a few days ago at breakfast. There were the loud voices in all directions as normal, but this was probably the most divided and deeply-felt discussion that I’ve seen at the table.
There were a few issues in the discussion. First, the Muslims don’t like people drawing images of the prophet. The Catholics wanted to make the point that, if no one knows what Mohammad looked like, then it shouldn’t be offensive if someone tries to draw a cartoon of him. It doesn’t make much sense to Catholics who really appreciate the value of icons and images. Second, the Muslims couldn’t tolerate that people would equate terrorism with Islam. Yousef made the distinction repeatedly throughout the meal, “That’s not Islam, that’s terrorism!” The Catholics were full of questions about how Islam teaches that if someone dies in some sort of jihad they receive their reward of Paradise automatically. Yousef wanted it to be clear that no one knows destinies for sure, only God.
A few days later the BBC said the cartoons had become a “global crisis.” I certainly had seen how the discussion escalated within a few days and really polarized people. It was interesting to see how religious tension can develop on a smaller scale. It seems to be increasingly important in our world today to be able to sit at the same table and talk until we find some understanding. What looks like an argument between groups here at breakfast may actually be a healthy thing in the long run.
Posted by Derrick at 06:27 PM | Comments (0)
February 02, 2006
Borders
“Ceuta: Ciudad Abierta,” or “Ceuta: An Open City,” reads the large sign that welcomes those who make their way through the border checkpoint. It’s ironic how close that sign is to the barrier that runs all along the border here in Ceuta. How open of a city is it, and open to who? We are finding that there are lots of conditions that are attached to that openness.
There would have been a period when Ceuta would have been under the Moors’ control, but for the most part Ceuta has been European land for a long time. First occupied by the Phoenicians hundreds of years ago and during the medieval period it was controlled by the Portuguese. The significant mark that they left in the city was a great wall and a moat that separated the peninsula from the mainland. When the Spanish came to power, they fortified the city with more massive walls to fend off the enemy. These walls have been restored and are open to the public today. Since then, the modern border has moved farther outside of those walls, but today another barrier separates the city from the surrounding territory. While it certainly complicates leaving the city, the main purpose is to control who gets in to the open city.
The movement of people is something incredible to think about, and the way nation-states and borders have organized is a sort of phenomenon as well. There is an enormous amount of energy and money that goes into maintaining a line that some people agreed upon once upon a time, for political and economic reasons. Violence and discrimination of many forms go right along with the enforcement of those laws. Last fall, between August and November, I understand there were a number of “avalanches” of immigrants in Ceuta and/or Melilla, when Africans would charge the fence with ladders and a number would make it across. There are a number of charges for assaults and a number of deaths involved in these avalanches that are still being processed.
The make-up of the city makes the border situation that much more interesting. Culturally, there is a significant Arab influence here in the city which is certainly present on both sides of the fence. The difference is that on this side, there are the additional Spanish funds and Spanish people. However, it’s a border town in every way. On the streets, the languages obviously mix together in conversation, and few generalizations about “race” differentiation are valid.
There’s another little side of the border issue that I’ve thought about. The pedestrian bridge that goes between the Spanish and Portuguese walls into the downtown is named the Puente de Cristo, the Christ Bridge, and right behind the mighty Portuguese fortress hangs a crucifix. To me, it seems the church is or should be the body that transcends barriers and borders. When people came to Jesus with their needs, he didn’t ask for papers first. Having the same mind as Christ, his followers should also try to work indiscriminately between peoples and nationalities.
Posted by Derrick at 05:53 PM | Comments (0)
February 01, 2006
Lucky, from Liberia
This morning I found Lucky standing out by the run in the sun. He had just come from meeting with a lawyer at CETI, the Centro de Estacia Temporal de Inmigrantes (Immigrants’ Temporary Residence Center), which is a government-run facility that houses and processes immigrants, determining whether they are eligible for asylum or whether they will return to their homelands. Many immigrants begin their time in Ceuta here at the Cruz Blanca before proceeding to CETI.
I asked Lucky if he had some time to answer some questions. Laura Schildt, who is in Cádiz studying immigration, had asked us to do some more formal interviews for her project. He agreed, I got a pen and paper, and we sat down together on the bus stop bench.
Lucky was born in 1983, the same year as I, in Lofa, Liberia. The war in his country began around 1989 over political problems; opposing groups struggling for power. Lucky was still quite young when bombing and violence made its way into his town. His life changed dramatically in a single day when rebels attacked his home. “I saw with my too eyes,” he told me, as they cut off his father’s head. Lucky lifted his shirt to show me a wound on his abdomen and told me of another scar on his right leg where they had cut him too. He said he woke up later in a hospital, and as soon as he could he fled the town. He has not heard from his mother or two younger sisters since that day. He told me he doesn’t know whether they are dead or alive. From that point, he traveled from city to city for the next number of years, doing what he could to get by.
Finally in 2003, he made his way out of the country. Continuing as he had been, he traveled bit by bit with whatever help he could find along the way. He went Guinea, Mali and Algeria trying to find a safe a stable place. While in Algeria, he found a group of men who talked about going to Morocco and Europe. Lucky was interested but had no money or passport to make it across tight borders. They found someone who would take them in a truck. Those who had money to pay could sit; Lucky would stand.
His time in Morocco was really difficult. He was treated badly by police and spent a lot of time begging for money. After some time, he found a really nice person who volunteered not only to buy him a life jacket, but to swim him into Ceuta. Lucky said he realizes that many people pay large amounts to get into the Spanish city. All the people that have helped him along the way are “all godsends to me,” he says.
Another man picked him up along the beach, gave him clothes and took him to the Cruz Blanca, where he is today. He says that any destination in Europe that offers him asylum would be welcome. He can read a little English, but would need to learn much wherever he would go.
I asked him about the strength that it takes to travel like he has. He says he tries to keep his mind occupied. If he sits still too long he starts to remember his family and he can loose his composure. He comes from a Christian family too. He smiled when he talked about how his mother used to stand up and speak in the church. “I love being a Christian!” he says. Even though he doesn’t have anything, no Bible, God is his companion and he can pray to God for strength. That still cannot erase the difficulty of dealing with his past. He says sometimes he really just wants too see his family all together. In the times he thinks about his family, he feels most lonely.
As our conversation moved on, I had the chance to share some with him and gave him a piece of paper with a number of basic phrases in Spanish to get him going. He’s the second Liberian I’ve met here with the name Lucky. As a person my age, I can’t imagine what it would be like to have lived as he has. I can only hope and pray that God will continue to carry him especially close through his future.
Posted by Derrick at 05:48 PM | Comments (1)