Peripheral vision
This morning I found a perch at a coffee shop to continue editing my book… half tinkering with sentences, half staring off into space. As I typed away, something caught my eye and I looked outside. Someone, rather. There stood Firuz and Salma, faces masked and waving enthusiastically.* I rushed outside to say hello.
I shared nine months of life with this couple at Kinbrace. They are probably the age of my parents, and they adopted me as a daughter of their own while we lived side-by-side. Meanwhile, Firuz would also call me “Mrs. Boss,” claiming that I was the woman in charge at Kinbrace. If I passed by during his daily routine of sweeping the back patio, he would bring his work to a halt, hold his broom at his side, and we would share a formal salute.
It’s not the first time this has happened. A few weeks ago I was working at another neighbourhood cafe. At one point, I lifted my gaze to discover the duo who had taken the table next to me were Malena and her mother, two women who used to call Kinbrace home. These former neighbours continue to build lives beyond Kinbrace, their first community of support in Canada. (To hear a podcast interview with Malena, follow this link: https://migration.ubc.ca/global-migration-podcast/season-2/episode-5)
In my work of writing, I depend on these run-ins. They call me back to the people from whom my words cannot be divorced. Just before spotting Firuz and Salma, I had written: “…And with 79.5 million people forcibly displaced from their homes, we cannot afford to lose sight of our humanity.”
In a world of forced displacement and mass migration, we need human contact. We need tangible reminders that every social phenomenon is a human phenomenon. Forced displacement is something that happens to people… people with faces and names and stories.
Sometimes it takes a distraction from the task at hand to draw me back to what is central. It may only be through my ‘peripheral’ vision that I see what cannot be missed.
*Names have been changed to protect the privacy of my former neighbours.
The photo was taken at Kinbrace last spring. Look closely and you’ll see Firuz in his own familiar ‘perch.’
