Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
>>JOHN GODFREY: Good evening and welcome to the 16th Annual Wallenberg Lecture. My name
is John Godfrey, I'm Chair of the Wallenberg Committee and I'm an Assistant Dean here at
Rackham School of Graduate Studies. This evening we honor Sister Luise Radlmeier who has endured
a very lengthy trip from her home in Juja, Kenya to be with us.
We're also honored by a number of young men and women who have escaped the desolation
of Southern Sudan and carry with them their own stories of overcoming the most inhumane
dimensions of the human condition. It was their good fortune to cross the path of this
remarkable Dominican nun, who with energy, determination, persistence, and craft, has
opened a path beyond the Sudanese plains that are littered with the remains of lost communities
and countless lost lives. Sister Luise is truly indomitable. This evening
her presence brings alive the memory, spirit, and example of Raoul Wallenberg. A graduate
of this university, and who 25 years ago in October, was made an honorary U.S. citizen.
Raoul Wallenberg practiced his mastery of the craft of the possible at the darkest edge
of the human experience, where everything seemed so utterly impossible.
Coming to Budapest from neutral Sweden in late 1944, as the Nazis sought to finish their
final murderous tasks, armed only with his wits, some diplomatic paper, a satchel of
cash, and an unshakeable will, Wallenberg's goal was the unachievable. To pull from the
depths of the Holocaust one of the last surviving populations of Europe's Jews.
Raoul Wallenberg was alone in his mission. The governments of the allied nations that
stood against Hitler maintained a curtain of silence, even though at the highest levels,
officials well knew of the existence of the death camps and the exercise of systematic
***. Against this background of solitude and adept
in German and Hungarian, Wallenberg proved himself to be cunning and ruthless in the
service of morality and humanity. He could size up a Hungarian thug or a Nazi officer
and muster the most effective mixture of persuasion, intimidation and threat to win the release
of arrested Jews. He organized a gang of forgers, operatives,
couriers, informants, deal makers to protect, shelter and feed Budapest's Jewish survivors.
He mobilized the desperate and gave hope to those who had been abandoned, pulling Jews
from trains that were headed to death camps and stopping arrests and killings in the streets
of Budapest. He found willing accomplices, and where necessary,
cozened or coerced unwilling accomplices. He became an improviser of the possible in
the face of the impossible. Through his ingenuity, courage and implacable spirit and commitment
to humanity, Raoul Wallenberg succeeded in sheltering as many as 100,000 people from
death in the Nazi camps. While he disappeared into the darkness from
which he had saved so many, arrested by Soviet agents and fading into the gulag, Raoul Wallenberg's
spirit is certainly with us this evening. For tonight is an occasion for us to celebrate
uncommon courage and dedication to humanity and to see how, through the work of Sister
Luise, Wallenberg's conviction that one person can make a difference survives.
The recipients of this medal show us how individuals of conscience, guided by the conviction that
the human spirit can overcome the worst, truly make a difference in even the darkest moments
of the human condition. To present Sister Luise Radlmeier, an uncommon
practitioner of the possible in the direst of surroundings and circumstances, I am pleased
to introduce to you Teresa Sullivan, the University of Michigan's new Provost and Executive Vice
President for Academic Affairs.
[APPLAUSE]
>>TERESA SULLIVAN: Thank you, John. I am pleased to welcome all of you to the
2006 Wallenberg lecture. Since the first lecture in 1990, this has been an important event
on the University of Michigan campus. It provides an opportunity to pause and recognize the
difference one person can make. World events move rapidly today, technology
enables us to know a great deal about what is happening throughout the world and to learn
it in real time. Every day we see and hear about wars, bombings,
detentions and disappearances. But the news services rarely provide us with the stories
of individuals who are taking action against violence, persecution and oppression. It is
important to do this, to remind ourselves that individual lives and actions can counter
the inhumanity of the world. I'm grateful that the Wallenberg lecture provides
us with an opportunity to come together as a community, to celebrate individuals who
make a difference. I'm very pleased to announce that this year
the Wallenberg endowment will expand the work it supports. The executive committee for the
endowment has created the Wallenberg International Summer Travel Fellowships.
These will be awarded to both undergraduate and graduate students here at the University
of Michigan. When Raoul Wallenberg was a student here in the 1930s, he travelled across North
America to observe and learn from people of all kinds on their own terms.
This experience helped him to understand the human condition. It shaped his lifelong concern
for human dignity and humanitarian values. In the spirit of Wallenberg's experience as
a student the Wallenberg International Summer Travel Fellowship will allow the recipients
to take part in community service or other civic endeavors anywhere in the world.
Let's take a moment to thank the many people who have made this lecture and the expanded
work of the Wallenberg Endowment possible. Please join me in acknowledging the work of
the volunteers, faculty and staff whose efforts throughout the year culminate in tonight's
gathering. [APPLAUSE]
Tonight we are honored to recognize Sister Luise Radlmeier as the sixteenth Wallenberg
Medal recipient. She is a woman of conviction and compassion, someone who exemplifies how
one individual can make a difference. Sister Luise, a native of Bavaria, has spent
much of the past 50 years in Africa. Originally sent by the Dominican sisters to be a teacher,
she developed a personal mission of assisting children who are victims of war in Sudan.
Her work began on a small scale, helping refugee children find their way into schools and providing
the money for tuition. Her hope was that the students would learn skills that would enable
them to be self reliant as adults. War and unrest contused in Sudan and the number
of children who were displaced grew steadily. So did the work of Sister Luise. What began
as assistance for 27 children grew to include about 800 students.
Many of us have read or seen movies about the lost boys of Sudan. Sister Luise was instrumental
in changing the lives of many of these young men. She helped them prepare for the tests
and interviews that were required before they could emigrate and begin new lives free from
the violence of Sudan and the hopelessness of crowded refugee camps.
She hopes to provide similar assistance to more than 300 Sudanese girls who currently
live in the Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya. The girls face abuse and exploitation every
day in the camp. Sister Luise is working to help them resettle
in other countries where they can build new lives. Recognizing that education must be
coupled with healthcare and shelter, Sister Luise has established schools, dormitories,
and homes for orphaned children, health clinics and a small hospital.
Her work addresses the immediate needs of children and young people and launches them
on the road to independence. In this way Sister Luise influences many lives and touches each
of them. She enables young people to look to the future with confidence. This is a wonderful
and wonderfully human gift to give. The Nobel Peace Prize laureate, Elie Wiesel,
was the first recipient of the Wallenberg Medal. He has seen much of the inhumanity
of the world. He once observed, "I have learned two lessons in my life. First, there are no
sufficient literary, psychological, or historical answers for human tragedy, only moral ones.
Second, just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope too can be given
to one only by other human beings." Sister Luise gives hope to many and shows
us daily that one person can make a difference. The University of
Michigan is honored to present her with the Wallenberg Medal.
[APPLAUSE]
>>SISTER LUISE RADLMEIER: My dear friends,
distinguished guests of the Michigan University, my dear former refugees who have come here
tonight for this great function. It is indeed a very great honor for me to be receiving
this wonderful, heavy, precious metal. [LAUGHTER]
Thank you so much. It is something that I never dreamt could ever happen to me. It humbles
me very much to see that such an esteemed institution like Michigan University should
pick someone from the bush of Africa to give such a great honor. In fact, I feel so unworthy
of it because what I do, I just do it because I feel when there is need somewhere, it is
understood that one lays hands on, and tries to help when help is required.
This refugee work is quite a big challenge. It brings along many trials, tribulations,
and frustrations, but it also has moments of special rewards, for example, this one
today. When I see so many of the young men here, those who were scruffy little rascals
when they first came to me, [laughs] to see them now as very nice, established gentlemen
who have traveled long distances in sleek cars, which they drive by themselves,
[LAUGHTER] I'm very proud of them to see them there.
It shows me that the efforts that we have put in in helping refugees, the efforts are
not in vain, that they bear fruits. For this, I'm very happy to thank you all to be here
today. My work for refugees began in 1985, when my
congregation, the Dominican Missionary Sisters posted me to Kenya.
I had no idea that I was to find a refugee camp about seven kilometers away from our
pastoral center where I was to live. I was lecturing at Kenyatta University for 15 years
in order to be the breadwinner of our community, but the community was soon dissolved because
two sisters became ill, but all along young boys and girls were coming to us seeking help
like clothing, medical care, and above all, education.
In these encounters, l learned how 10 year old and 16 year old boys and girls fled from
their home countries like Sudan, Ethiopia, Somalia, Uganda, and later on Rwanda and Burundi.
How they managed to escape the horrors of war and the massacre that was raging in their
home countries, which they personally witnessed. Some even still had bullet wounds lodged in
their limbs and needed surgery. We provided medical care and clothing as best as we could.
When the other sisters had left, I was to continue in the university and continued to
work for the refugees. One day, a young Ugandan army intelligence
officer, who was also in the Thika refugee camp came to me and said, "Sister, there are
18 Sudanese young men from the age of 12 to 20, sleeping in Uhuru Park in Nairobi and
surviving by eating grass. You must help them." UNHCR had discharged them from the camp, but
they were too young and too illiterate to earn a living and feed themselves. I asked
him to bring them to me. The picture of these thin, emaciated lads in tattered clothes was
really pathetic. A good number had also tropical sores. I rented
six rooms, one was to be a kitchen and five of them to be bedrooms. We only could afford
two inch mattresses on the floor and one blanket each, but within a few weeks, 27 more came,
also from Sudan and discharged from the refugee camp. There was no way to turn them away.
I begged from the German Social Welfare Society, from the Catholic Secretariat, from the Hindu
Society for food and clothes in order to feed these starving youths. And then came the question
of education. "Sister, we want to go to school. We want to learn."
Three headmasters in the area turned us away under the pretext that these boys were too
tall. "We are taller than the teachers and could be a disciplinary problem." But one
day a headmaster fell ill and so the deputy who was sympathetic to us said, "I'll give
it a try, provided the boys really behave very well."
Luckily, there was no problem of discipline because the boys were dead serious on learning.
But, they were a funny sight. Long thin legs and short blue uniform shorts. They had to
walk to the school. Soon they had recovered and gained strength that they could even participate
in sports. And in a short time, the [INCOMPREHENSIBLE] primary school won one race and one match
after another. And this made the school the first in the whole province.
[APPLAUSE] We felt we had won the day. The teachers were
proud of them even though they would complain that it was very hard to teach people who
knew no English and no key Swahili. But, with steady perseverance, we overcame all obstacles.
My German friends and relatives I did not leave in peace either.
I begged and begged until we had enough money to send the first ones even to secondary school.
After they had to complete primary school, which is an eight year course, they had to
complete it in four years. Those who were more than 16 years old.
And they managed and even qualified for some of the good schools in the country. Now you
can imagine how word traveled to the remote Kakuma refugee camp that is about 700 kilometers
away from Nairobi. More and more boys and girls were coming with
only one request: to be allowed to come to school and learn. From 1987 to 1998, we had
an annual enrollment of over 800 refugees on our register. I could not handle these
numbers alone anymore. So I approached refugee service to come to my rescue.
We worked together for a good number of years trying to educate this great number of refugees.
After 1998 the numbers went down. Presently we have only around 260 or so annually to
go to school. The other nationalities either could return home or they went to other countries.
The Sudanese still kept coming. Some were in very pathetic conditions. We
had no funds for medical care. I used to boil pots and pots of chamomile tea and make them
drink it to cure their insides. I made them wash their eyes and their bodies to cure the
outside from skin diseases and tropical sores. When we asked them how they survived their
four to six day trips in the bush to come to Kenya one gets speechless about their survival
tactics. For lack of water and not wanting to die of thirst some even drank their own
urine. Others said they were fighting over the water in the puddles that were left behind
in elephant foot prints. And their diets were leaves and grass and berries and roots till
they reached the refugee camp in Kakuma. In 1998 I received an invitation from the
SPLA rebel leader, the late Dr. John Garang, who wanted to see me. I was very, very scared
because I was helping such boys and girls that had run away from forced conscription
into the rebel army and those who had escaped from active combat.
We chatted for a long time very amiably. And then he said, "Sister, we make an agreement.
I fight to prepare the land of Sudan for the future and you help us to prepare the manpower
that is needed to build up the country once peace has come to Sudan."
I said, "OK. We are together in this fight." Then he asked me to pray for him and with
him. It was a very memorable meeting. It took many years before God answered our prayer
and peace came to Sudan, on the 9th of January, 2005.
I know some of you will be wondering how we can talk of peace in Sudan when there is still
very heavy fighting going on in the Darfur region. Yes, this war is still a very treacherous
incident of the history of Sudan. This conflict increases in atrocities and human suffering
on a daily basis. It is my hope and prayer that the mighty powers of this world will
find a solution to this senseless and unnecessary conflict.
The sufferings inflicted on innocent women and children surely cries to heaven for a
solution. Unfortunately some political powers fear to get involved and so the war drags
on and very little about it reaches the outside world. Because most people in that area are
still illiterate and have no access to media. Besides the ordinary refugees, also trying
to help hundreds of ex-child soldiers to learn a skill, a trade. Because for formal education
they are too old now. They have lost their youth and their childhood in active combat
and are crying to be given a chance to learn something before they get too old and before
they can return home. We thought that the day of child soldiers
was over for Sudan. But recently I heard that some commanders have even gone into the refugee
camps and Chad in order to force young boys to come out and be trained to fight against
the so called Janjaweed, the militia that are terrorizing the Darfur villages.
Again it is the blood of innocent defenseless children that has to be shed for peace to
come to that region. This makes me shudder because I know from the stories of our refugees
what forced conscription can do to young people. The brutality made it out to them during the
training. When they are pushed to the front lines, it's enough to destroy a young person's
character. Let alone the drugs that are administered to them so that they go into battle fearlessly.
The psychological scars are often bigger than the physical scars. One young lad confessed
to me that after a battle, he had to shoot his own friend because the boy was so wounded
that he could not be carried with them. And to leave him in the hands of the enemy was
more terrible than to die on the spot. It was more merciful to give him a bullet
shot than to leave him exposed to the tortures of the enemies. I have another lad with me
in Kenya. He is limping a bit and when I try and ask him what happened he said, as they
were escaping from Ethiopia in 1991, they had to flee back to Sudan. They were bombarded
by the [INCOMPREHENSIBLE] planes and the splinter bomb hit him and ripped open his belly and
all the bowels came out. But a kind lady who was like a mother to him pushed them carefully
in and squeezed the juice of bitter leaves on to the wound so that it should not get
septic. And then she covered the wounds with the leaves. Then they put him on a makeshift
stretcher of bamboo sticks and tree barks and carried him along with them.
He said this was not as terrible to him as seeing how his parents were killed with matches
in front of him when he was only seven years old. He had to flee and run away alone to
save his life. There are hundreds of such similar stories
of physical and psychological suffering that the war brings to children and youth.
America is to be thanked and congratulated for having rescued thousands of young men
and women and the lost boys and millions of refugees from other countries. The story of
the lost boys I'm sure is familiar to most of you. Some of them are even here tonight.
But the story of the lost girls is far more complicated. In African culture, be it Sudanese,
Somali, or Kenyan, the girl child is still very much disadvantaged. Especially in the
rural communities where a good number of people are still illiterate.
In the strict, traditional culture, a girl has nothing to say. She's not supposed to
have an opinion of her own or make plans for her future. Her role is to know how to cook,
to bear children, and be very docile and submissive to the elders of the community. This makes
a girl, especially an orphan girl, in a refugee camp even more vulnerable.
The male population in a refugee camp do not want girls to go for resettlement or leave
the camp for education. They want to keep them there as so called reserves. When they
are tired of one wife, they just select a new one and a younger one from among the lost
girls. Some girls, of course, struggle in the camp
to attend school and develop a desire for learning and have dreams and hopes for a better
future. So when a suitor comes and approaches them, they have to go into hiding. With a
bit of luck, they manage to escape and make their way to Nairobi. Usually, they find some
other refugee women there who will direct them to places and people who can protect
them and eventually help them to go for resettlement. Worst off are the orphans, because any man
from their clan or their tribe can give them away in marriage, or rather sell them to someone
who can give them good money. Of course there are UNHCR social workers in the camps who
are supposed to take care of such cases. But if they speak out too strongly, they are threatened
to be killed. So many just do the minimum in order to not cause trouble for themselves.
It is the practice that orphan girls in the camp are usually assigned to a family mostly
a single mother who is there in the camp with her own children. Such a seemingly "kind"
lady kind in inverted commas will welcome an orphan to her household because she has
her own ulterior motives. Such a girl means cheap labor to do all the
household work, fetch water and firewood, cook, wash, etcetera. Such a girl is lucky
if she can attend a few hours of school per week. Most often, the workload is so heavy
that it prevents her from going to school, or she's unable to concentrate because of
too much harassment, scolding, tiredness, and hunger.
If she dares to complain to a social worker, her situation will only become worse afterwards
for having betrayed her foster mother. I have one girl with me in Juja in Nairobi who lived
in such an unhappy foster situation. She developed typhoid.
The doctor prescribed large doses of medication of tablets which she had to take every morning.
But she was not given any food, so she had to take those tablets on an empty stomach.
She'd go to school and not have water to drink either until the evening when she was given
the leftovers of that family where she stayed. So she developed stomach ulcers and other
complications. Even now, seven years later, she's still not cured from those side effects.
Once a foster girl a girl in foster care reaches puberty, the good lady, who has taken her
in, will bring in some men just casually from time to time. Whether the men are young or
old is not important as long as the man has money and can pay.
Before the girl realizes what is going on, she is told to go and be somebody's wife.
Her own wishes count nothing. Hundreds of girls in the camp get married off in this
way. Many become pregnant and are then dumped to fend for themselves alone with a baby to
care for. Worse still, often they are infected with the *** virus together with the baby.
There is a belief in Kenya or maybe in other African countries, I don't know that if a
man has the disease, and if he sleeps with a *** girl, the disease will be cured.
So most often such abandoned young ladies are then infected with the disease, and before
she realizes her own *** status, she may have infected many others because what does she
do when she is abandoned? She goes for prostitution in order to earn enough money to feed herself
and the child. This is a vicious circle, but whom can we
blame in this misery? We can only help in a small way due to limited resources. It is
my prayer that many more people in America come to the rescue of such vulnerable cases.
Here, I wish to single out the Jewish communities of Boulder, Colorado and Bloomington, Indiana
and even a Quaker group has tried to help because they have pledged themselves to help
such girls to resettle once they come to the United States. They provide them with housing,
with shelter, jobs, and even organize educational possibilities for them.
Hopefully, more such girls can be given a brighter future in such a way because a nation
in order to prosper needs educated women as much as educated men. So let me express here
my sincere gratitude to the Jewish communities that have taken bold steps to give new hope
for a better future to a good number of lost girls.
The Wallenberg Medal Award has a Jewish connection as we have heard, and if I may say so, so
have I. During World War II, my late mother used to work tirelessly for a Jewish toy shop
in Landshut, Bavaria, because the money had lost the value and the Jewish shops were to
be boycotted. But Mom would carry loads of toys on her bicycle
home and sell them to farmers in exchange of food items. Then she would cycle back the
20 kilometers and bring those food items to the people of Kaufhaus Deeds.
On her last trip there, she was almost caught and jailed. She found that the shop was locked,
and since they had their residence upstairs, she stood in the street and shouted up and
said, "Come and open. I have come with your goods." But the woman in the street stopped
her and told her to shut up before she is caught and jailed.
My mother asked, "Why? What has happened?" The woman said, "Can't you see that Star of
David on the door?" Mother said, "Yes. Why? What is the matter?"
"You should get away as fast as you can otherwise you will never reach home again." So she was
forced to cycle home silently. In the evening, she told my father about it.
Because my father never had to go to war, he was employed to transport the milk to the
dairy. So we kept the foodstuff for two weeks. Then Dad came home one evening and said, "I
think we have to eat that food ourselves, because from what I hear these people might
never come back anymore." So we had to do that.
But my mother became very scared because our attic was full of toy boxes with the labels
of Kaufhaus Deeds on them. Mom feared that if the Gestapo find out and discover our Jewish
connection we would all be killed. So she hatched a plan and made my sister and myself
go up to the attic and remove all the labels. She said, "Father Christmas wants it like
that," and we were not to look inside the boxes.
[LAUGHTER] So at least this part was over. And it was
true, these people never came back. When I reflect back, I think it runs in our
family to lay hands on a problem and help to solve it in whatever way it may be possible.
In a small way, we can all contribute to solving problems especially when it means alleviating
the sufferings of our fellow human beings. African theology is based upon mutuality and
harmony. I believe the Jewish theology runs in the same direction. Like the African culture,
it stresses family values and togetherness. Whatever holds the community together is the
spoken word, dialogue, communication. Words have the power to heal and to hurt, to build
and to destroy. Traditionally, problems are solved by sitting
down together and talking things over, and then action can be taken. Already in the Bible
in the Book of Genesis, we read, "God spoke, 'Let there be light,' and there was light."
Action followed the word. History also tells us that most wars have
started by the commanding words of a powerful despot. The rebel violence or the culture
of violence is predominant. Their wars and conflicts are inevitable. So many events in
history are written with the blood of the powerless and the oppressed. Even we are here
today because of what such history has done to so many refugees.
Yet I do not want us to dwell on the powerful and mighty rulers that have caused so much
suffering and displacement in the world. Let us look at the history of what groups of small
people, unknown people, have done and are still doing today. I'm referring here to the
small groups of courageous Jewish people and rabbis that are making history nowadays because
in the midst of all the suffering that surrounds us they have spoken some daring words.
Let us do something and help at least a few of those apparently insignificant people in
the world, the lost girls. They spoke words of healing and building up and have already
begun to put them into action. Such stories provide a climate for freedom and new growth
in the world. More and more such stories would set the world free indeed.
There is a Hebrew saying which says, "Don't consider yourself unworthy because God does
not consider you unworthy." These Jewish communities of Boulder and Bloomington are passing this
message on to all these girls that they are already welcoming in their homes and they're
still welcoming in the near future. I have seen the importance of these words
in some of the refugees that we have helped. They would say, "During the war, I was treated
like an animal. I was like an underdog surviving only at the mercy of those over me. Now that
you have helped me, I feel I'm like a human being again."
Wars have such terrible side products. They tear families apart, create thousands of orphans
and homeless people, and destroy the cultural values, and trample under foot the things
that people hold sacred and holy. Africa has a rich tradition, a rich cultural
tradition, of passing on to the youth what makes them grow up honest, decent, and respectful.
But wars destroy all that and make people into beasts who only know how to kill or be
killed. People either use others or are being used by others.
Yet, in the most ancient cultures, there is such great respect for life. There is this
cultural aspect that teaches about the dignity of the human being. It is quite universal
in Africa, and it is also found in ancient Judaism.
The three most basic colors are red, white, and black. Long ago, every hut that was build
for a newly wedded couple was decorated with these three basic colors to teach them about
the dignity of the human person. Red stands for blood and is the symbolic color
of the female aspect in each person. White or rather gray stands for the male aspect
in a person. It is the color of the brain, the brain matter, the bone, the bone marrow,
the fingernails, and the eyeballs. The color black is the symbolic color of God.
God is a mystery. In the darkness, I cannot see a house or a tree, but I know it is there.
In the same way, I cannot see God, but I know he is there. So God whom we cannot see is
present in each person even if it is only in the black pupil of the eyes, the window
of the soul. What I find so interesting is that both African
tradition and ancient Hebrew culture had the same interpretation for these symbolic colors
and used them to enhance the dignity of the human person. Knowing that God has put something
of himself in each person should help us to avoid wars and conflict at all costs. At least
it should help us move on to resolve conflict in a dignified approach.
You have invited me here to let me speak to you a little bit about what wars in Africa
have done to young people, uprooting them, transplanting them into a world that is totally
alien to their cultural values. Let us be united in this one resolve that
we all can stand together and help preventing wars or sometimes maybe stopping wars. Let
us be united in building a peaceful world where the word "shalom" is written in golden
letters and each person can enjoy the dignity of his or her unique creation.
Thank you, and God bless you.
[APPLAUSE]
>>JOHN: Thank you Sister Luise. Tonight, we are also very fortunate to have with us Micklina
Peter. This is an extraordinary young woman who now attends the University of Colorado
and was one of the hundreds truly many hundreds of young Sudanese men and women who Sister
Luise has assisted and who are attending college like Micklina or rebuilding their lives in
other ways all around the world. I'd like to Miss Peter to come up to stage
for a few brief remarks. After which, we'll have time for some questions from you to both of them.
[APPLAUSE]
>>MICKLINA PETER: Thank you so much for having us here. Thank you for what you have
done like this little time you give to us this evening. It's very much valued not only
in our Sudanese culture but in the culture of human beings. I'm so happy to be here today
and share with you a little bit of my background. I will not go much because Sister have touched
almost everything. Just being a refugee or living with Sister
for some years, it taught me a lot of things that I was not even thinking that human being
can be able to do. Staying resistant to house, seeing what she's doing every day, going to
bed in the morning at around 2:00 or 3:00 sometimes taught me a lot of things.
I thought like, "What should I do? What should I do to help her?" Not only to help her because
she's Sister but to help her in order for her to help somebody, and that passion can
extend to help, also it will go further. I thought, "What was my contribution to be
for other fellow human beings like myself?" Coming to Boulder, Colorado, it wasn't an
easy thing like leaving the whole family behind, scattered in the bushes of Sudan, others in
Cairo. Just trying to think day and night when will be the time that we'll be coming
together and live together as a family again. It's so terrible and it's so hard...it's full
of sorrows, if I can say. It's really, really very difficult. But it's possible to put this
kind of things in one side when we have people like you contributing with their little time
they have in this busy world of America, coming here and listening to what people are doing
back in their homes. I know now each one of you is now thinking, "What should I do? How
can I help?" Coming to Boulder, as I said it's a difficult
thing. I've never imagined in my life one day I'll be in America. I heard about America
when I was in junior school, I was taught in a geography class about Rocky Mountains.
This was the only thing I know. [LAUGHTER]
North and South Dakota, they grow maize there or corn and then Chicago, where they have
this canned foods and all this kind of things. [LAUGHTER]
I've never thought of coming out of Sudan. For what? Going to school, having my family
by my side was enough for me. Then I have to leave everything. I have to look for work
that will save my life. That's why I managed to escape from Sudan and came to Nairobi.
Later on I came to the US. Being in Boulder somehow it was really, really
tough. Later on, it was a rewarding experience because I got wonderful people around me.
I got the Jewish community that I started getting ideas of helping other girls who are
desperate in camps. They are not able to do anything to help themselves.
Though they have their minds, their intelligence, they can do whatever men can do, but they
are not given that chance. They are always denied everything they want to do. They always
forced to something that they don't want to do.
Being in America, it's really like an eye opener. I remember when I first got my admission
at the University of Colorado, Boulder. When at orientation hall the professors are coming
to come and tell us about the campus, where you can go for this and that. It was an hour
presentation. After that we were told, now you can go and register.
Everybody was going so I was like, where to go? They said, Norlin Library. I don't know
where this library is, but I just follow everybody going. Then I went there and there were some
computers. I saw everybody sitting and, of course, back home for somebody to sit in front
of a computer that means this is a boss. [LAUGHTER]
I was like, am I going to be a boss or something like that? What is it?
[LAUGHTER] Everybody sitting there clack, clack, typing.
[LAUGHTER] I was like "Hmmm. Which class should I register
on and what should I do? What is even the website?" I sat there for ten minutes. I was
just sweating and sweating. I decided to ask somebody, "Hey, could you help me come and
register for my classes? Then he said, "Which are the classes are you
going to register on? Which ones did you choose?" I said, "I don't know."
He said, "What's your major?" I said, "I want to major in Poly Sci, but
I don't know which classes should I take." He came and helped me, and I registered for
my classes. Going to class was a huge thing, where I just
sit down in a big hall like this, seeing students coming, others are busy watching their DVDs,
programs. [LAUGHTER]
I was like, "Are they really serious or maybe they knew about it before."
I was so surprised. I said, "Will I really adjust one day to this culture and to this
way of planning and doing everything by myself?" It was really a huge cultural shock, but at
the end, it worked out well. It's not only that, but because I have Sister's
memory in my mind. Every day I will think "What will I do to help those who are behind
there?" I remember one journalist interview me in
Boulder. He said, "Oh, Micklina, you must be the luckiest one. You should be very happy
and proud that you are the only girl now here in Colorado among 63 boys."
I'm like, "Hmm? Can you repeat that again?" She's like, "I mean you must be the lucky
one." I said, "How can I be a lucky one while I'm
the only person here?" Can you be able to clap with your one hand? You can't.
Me here even getting post PhD, what can I do in Southern Sudan? Nothing. I need the
other hand so that I can join together and clap, and produce a good rhythm.
I started thinking, "What should I do?" I was so confused, not knowing exactly what
to do, but then through God's help, when Sister was escorting Somali Bantu refugees here doing
orientations to them inside the plane, I said, "Sister, could you please come and visit us
in Boulder?" It was 2004. She said, "Oh, well, I will have to come."
I said, "Oh, we'll send you some money for your ticket, just come and visit us here."
She said, "OK." When she came, I was like, "Wow, now she's
here, what can I do?" I was totally in big shock not knowing what
to do. The only thing was just helping girls, helping women. I asked her, "Sister, what
can we do to help those girls in Kakuma." She's "Oh, Micklina, what can we do now? It's
really tough. I can do, but it's very tough. I need to have some funding to do all that
you want to do." I'm like, "Sister, why don't we just find
ways, those who escaped from Kakuma, keep them at your compound, send them to school,
and then have them apply for resettlement process to come to US."
She said, "We need funding. How can I sustain these women here in Nairobi? It's very difficult."
I said, "OK." I went further and told a friend of mine. She's called Evelyn Bassoff. We call
her Mama Evie. I said, "You know, I have these thoughts of helping more girls, but how can
we do that now?" She said, "Is it possible?"
I said, "Mom, it's possible, because Sister is there. We just need to get some funding."
Then she started writing emails, asking people to help, and then she came the other day and
told me, "Micklina, we have Rabi Barensky. She's a very good friend of mine. Let me go
and talk to her and see if she can help." I said, "Well, go ahead."
She went and told Rabi, "Oh, there's this situation we thought it's possible, if you
can help." They said, "Oh, OK. Give us a week, we'll let you know."
And after a week I receive a message that we decided to sponsor 10 girls. Then I'm like,
"Wow." [APPLAUSE]
I was so happy. Then I said, "OK, that's good." Then they would call me and ask me sometimes,
I would be in class, then I say, "Get Sister's address and just communicate direct to her."
They started communicating with Sister and after some time another Jewish congregation
group said, "We'll sponsor four." I'm like, "Wow, things are working now." After some
time, I decided I want to go to Nairobi and see even how this process can go, how the
situation of the girls is. An all day process and what should be put
together and talk to sister. I went last year. It was also a privilege for me to go through
Egypt, because then I have to see my mom after 15 years. I visited her and it was a different,
huge story. I went up to Nairobi and met Sister again and the girls. Then we said, "OK, this
is working now and let's see what to do." Then we had, also, other single mothers. One
has a critical situation, the husband went and married another woman and that woman has
AIDS, and wanting to come back. She said, "No." Then it was a huge problem in the family.
She has to escape. These kind of cases. I told Sister, "Why don't we recommend those
women, also? See ways to help them." She said, "We'll put, also, requests." Later on, those
women got into process. They are nine plus their dependents. They should be like 22.
Then we have these girls, the first term group and the four and the other four and more,
hopefully, will join and we'll have a huge community of Sudanese in Boulder, Colorado.
[LAUGHTER] Not only Boulder, we want to expand to the
other states. I was talking with Professor Irene yesterday. She was like, "What can we
do to do something like this, also, here?" I encourage people to really help. If there
is any way you can help, it will be really, really helpful. The single dollar you give,
it's rescuing the life of thousands. Thank you so much.
[APPLAUSE] >>JOHN: We have a little bit of time for
some questions and then we invite you, afterwards, to go to a reception here in the lobby outside.
I can't quite see, so I don't know. It's quite bright. Does anybody have a question?
>>AUDIENCE MEMBER: [INAUDIBLE]
>>JOHN: It was a comment about Albert Schweitzer
and his work and the inspiration that Sister might find.
[LOUDER] It was a comment about Albert Schweitzer and his work in Africa and the inspiration
that Sister Luise might find in his work...There are some microphones. There's one here and
one back there, if anybody has...
>>AUDIENCE MEMBER 2: It's been wonderful listening
to Sister and the young woman who is there, I can't quite say your name, but you've been
very inspiring. I see some of the young men in the audience and I was wondering if they
could come up to the stage and we could meet them.
[LAUGHTER] [APPLAUSE]
>>JOHN: All right. I have some questions. Just a couple of questions, then we'll go to the lobby.
>>AUDIENCE MEMBER 3: [INAUDIBLE]
>>JOHN: The names and where they're from. >>SISTER LUISE: They are all from Sudan. Say your names.
>>CHARLES LENO: My name is Charles Leno. I
come from Syracuse, New York. [APPLAUSE]
>>CHRISTINE BOSKO: Hi. My name is Christine Bosko. I'm from Syracuse.
[APPLAUSE]
>>PATRICK CAMILLO: My name is Patrick Camillo. I'm from Lansing, Michigan.
[APPLAUSE]
>>JOSEPH NACHUNGURA: My name is Joseph Nachungura. I am from the South too, but I live in the
part of Canada. So I came from Canada because I heard my mom was coming, that's why I was here.
[APPLAUSE]
>>WILLIAM LOCHE: Hello. My name is William Loche. I'm from Canada as well. I just want
to make a very brief comment about Sister Luise. Sister Luise has given a meaning to
my life and has given a meaning to a life of many other people. Because of Sister Luise,
I'm able to come to Canada and I'm at the university now. She has just touched on many
bases. Her dream has come true because of...it's touching. Thank you very much, Sister.
[APPLAUSE]
>>EMILE VEDILLA: I'm Emile Vedilla. I'm
from Syracuse, New York. Sister has done a lot of things. She's great.
[APPLAUSE]
>>JOHN LOWMAN IBRAHIM: My name is John Lowman Ibrahim. I'm from Michigan.
[APPLAUSE]
>>DOMINIC MORES: My name is Dominic Mores, and I live in Lansing.
[APPLAUSE]
>>SAN JUAN LUCIANO: My name is San Juan Luciano,
and I'm from from Syracuse, New York. [APPLAUSE]
>>BENJAMIN VERGILLIO: My name's Benjamin Vergillio. This is my brother right here.
I'm from Syracuse, New York. [APPLAUSE]
>>JULIUS NAMBUR: You have some tall Sudanese boys and even the mic won't fit them. My name
is Julius Nambur, and I remember since I mentioned that during the wars in Sudan being forced
to fight the war. They were not even willing. One of these boys
who were conscripted while I was 11 years old and I was trained as an army. I get involved
in active combat, but I can't imagine I'm now here today. I'm just 30 months out from
Nairobi. I have been with her. Today I'm ten and three
months in America. She's just great. Thank you, Sister. [APPLAUSE]
>>MORRIS MICHAEL: Good evening. My name
is Morris Michael and I am one of the children of Sister Luise. I feel great that I've been
one of her persons to be influenced and be part of her dream. I'm very thankful for that.
[APPLAUSE]
>>CHARLES LOGGI: Hello. My name is Charles
Loggi, and I met Sister when I was only seven years old, so she's a big part of my life.
Thank you. [LAUGHTER]
[APPLAUSE]
>>JOHN: Do we have a question? We have time for one.
>>AUDIENCE MEMBER 4: Hi, Sister. I'm here
with some girls who are living in a discernment house right now and we're thinking about being
sisters as well. We were curious about how you felt like you were called to go to Africa
and help.
>>SISTER LUISE: I wanted to become a missionary when I was in secondary school. In fact, when
I was in secondary school, I was a very good sportswoman at that time. The sisters in the
convent, they wanted to make me their sports teacher in the future. They offered me a scholarship,
and it would have taken me to Boulder, Colorado. [LAUGHTER]
[APPLAUSE] But when I brought the application from home
to my dad to sign, he said, what? None of my children will go to America. Hollywood
is immoral. You cannot go there. [LAUGHTER]
For him, America and Hollywood was one thing. He tore it up and I was not allowed to go.
A year later, when I said I wanted to be a missionary sister, he said, I wish I had let
her go to America. [LAUGHTER]
They would have driven that idea out of her head.
[LAUGHTER] Finally, I found a missionary congregation,
the Dominican Sisters in Stratford in Germany. I joined and then we came by boat via Beira
to Mozambique, southern Rhodesia, into Africa. From there, I started working up to this day.
[APPLAUSE]
>>JOHN: Thank you very much. Thank all of
you. Please join us for a reception out in the lobby. Thank you very much.