The Wayfarer: Perspectives on Forced Migration and Transformational Community Development

Foreword

I heard Dr. Barnabé Anzuruni Msabah’s story for the first time when I asked him to teach a class for me on migrants in an undergraduate theology and development class at the University of Stellenbosch. It is a story filled with challenges, hope, and resilience which begins this book. His story, and those of other refugees on the continent, are compellingly woven throughout and draw readers into the realities and pain of this journey in such a way that we cannot look away.

These stories together with a solid sociological description of the intersecting challenges of refugees paint a stark picture of the cross-cutting issues of armed conflict, gender-based violence, economic hardship, continuing dictatorships and corruption, climatic factors, and exploitation by the Global North of the mineral wealth of Africa. These are stories and challenges which we as Africans cannot look away from, and in terms of African integral mission discourse, we must continue to emphasize the intersectional and complex nature of poverty and marginalization on our continent in order to begin to seek to engage it.

This book is at its best in its rich theological engagement which seeks to deeply challenge the church to not only relieve the suffering of those on the Jericho road and welcome the strangers in their midst, but also to be a bearer of shalom – of hope, restoration, justice, and healing. I am particularly struck by the following quote from the book:

That is what this book is all about, assisting the local church in fixing the road and making it safer for all so that whoever walks on it in their life’s journey – including refugees – will not be mugged and left half dead on the roadside but will finish their journey and reach their intended destination unharmed.

This is the call of the book, and in challenging the church, Dr. Msabah puts forward several theological perspectives which are integral to our understanding of mission, but he re-inscribes them creatively. Perhaps most fittingly for a book written by an African scholar for Africans, Ubuntu is highlighted as a precious gift offered by Africans. Dr. Msabah calls on us as Africans to live out this gift and offer Ubuntu as a gift to each other and the world. This call to be contextual and intercultural is also distributed throughout the book. On our continent where tribalism and racism remain constant, The Wayfarer engages the church to make the kind of shifts which will not only accommodate refugees or advocate for their rights, but will indeed assist them in assuring livelihood sustainability and full integration into the community.

The Wayfarer contributes to the field of transformational development, and indeed to African practical theology, and creates new boundaries in doing so. Not only is the church positioned as an agent of change in addressing the refugee phenomenon, the book importantly positions migrants as having agency and recognizes them as putting hope into action. During the Apartheid years in South Africa, and indeed throughout the world, there has been a call for those on the margins to shape their own discourse with the rallying cry: Nothing about us without us. It remains troubling that so much written about marginalized groups comes from the centres of power – those who are removed from the realities of the topic they are engaging. I remember very well at an international conference on migrants that Dr. Msabah and I attended together that he was very clear that migrants’ voices must be centred, and in this book, he does exactly that.

I was personally challenged by this book, and I have no doubt that you will be, too. May this book assist us to see the issues related to refugees more clearly, evaluate the situation with theological discernment, and act boldly with compassion and justice based on the biblical call.

Nadine Bowers Du Toit

Professor of Theology and Development

University of Stellenbosch, Cape Town, South Africa

Acknowledgements

I would like to express my sincere gratitude to all those who made meaningful contributions to this book directly or indirectly. I acknowledge that my expression of gratitude does not measure up to the support and encouragement they offered. Particular gratitude to my wife, Dr. Susan Anzuruni, for her prayerful support, encouragement, and reassurance during this laborious process. I would like to also thank Rev. Dr. Hyung Kyu Kim as well as my parents, By’elongo Sangara and Justine Mlebinge, who constantly fall to their knees whispering my case to God. Glory, honour and thanksgiving to the only wise God who has made this possible!

Barnabé Anzuruni Msabah

The Immigrants’ Creed

I believe in Almighty God,

who guided the people in exile and in exodus,

the God of Joseph in Egypt and Daniel in Babylon,

the God of foreigners and immigrants.

I believe in Jesus Christ,

a displaced Galilean,

who was born away from his people and his home,

who fled his country with his parents when his life was in danger,

and returning to his own country suffered the oppression

of the tyrant Pontius Pilate, the servant of a foreign power,

who then was persecuted, beaten, and finally tortured,

accused and condemned to death unjustly.

But on the third day, this scorned Jesus rose from the dead,

not as a foreigner but to offer us citizenship in heaven.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the eternal immigrant from God’s kingdom among us,

who speaks all languages, lives in all countries,

and reunites all races.

I believe that the church is the secure home

for the foreigner and for all believers who constitute it,

who speak the same language and have the same purpose.

I believe that the communion of the saints begins

when we accept the diversity of the saints.

I believe in the forgiveness of sin, which makes us all equal,

and in reconciliation, which identifies us more

than does race, language, or nationality.

I believe that in the resurrection

God will unite us as one people

in which all are distinct

and all are alike at the same time.

Beyond this world, I believe in life eternal

in which no one will be an immigrant

but all will be citizens of God’s kingdom,

which will never end.

Amen.[1]

1

Introduction

I grew up enjoying the melodic sound and lyrical depth of Vieux pèlerin qui vagabonde – a French hymn that my dear mother taught us when we were still very young. The hymn was first recorded by the Vaughan’s Texas Quartet in 1930 but later popularized in 1958 by Bill Monroe. The first stanza of Monroe’s version goes like this:

I’m just a poor wayfarin’ stranger,

While travellin’ through this world below.

Yet there’s no sickness, no toil, nor danger,

In that bright land to which I go.[1]

This song has never stopped ringing in my ears since I learned it as a first-grade pupil in lower primary school. I loved the song (and I still love it) not only for its eschatological profundity, but also for its irrefutable assertion that we are all strangers here on earth. The song convincingly communicates the eternal truth that although we are strangers here, someday we never will be, and our tired body will eventually find rest in the bosom of God’s celestial solace. The truth about this song’s lyrics rekindled my hope for a better future every time I sang it; in particular, because I have literally lived as a wayfaring stranger for most of my life.

In the 1970s the sociopolitical context in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) forced my parents to seek asylum in Burundi. As a result, I was born in Burundi. Life in Burundi was very difficult, but we survived through God’s providential care. So it was in Burundi that I learned at a young age that life is not easy, and the meaning of another famous French children’s song always vibrated in my ears with renewed meaning: "La vie est tellement difficile, travaillons pour gagner notre vie" (life is very difficult, let us work hard [if we are] to make it in life). This was one of the songs many children used to sing in primary school but which conveyed a special message to me personally seeing the conditions of life we lived in as refugees. The song taught me the importance of hard work and the value of diligence when executing assigned duties.

Because I was born in a country where my parents were asylum seekers, I, too, was born an asylum seeker. On 21 October 1993, war broke out in Burundi following the assassination of Melchior Ndadaye, the first democratically elected president of the country. We then left Burundi in April the following year, 1994, and went to Uvira in the DRC. In Uvira, we lived at the mercy of humanitarian assistance from some charitable international organizations because we were returnees. We were going through a reverse culture shock, so we needed humanitarian assistance from the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and other organizations to allow us settle in our new setting that was literally our home away from home. However, before we could fully settle, another war broke out in 1996, barely two years later. We left the city of Uvira and fled to Swima, a village situated a few dozen kilometres away. In Swima, we were internally displaced persons (IDPs) because we were uprooted from our original abode and displaced elsewhere without crossing any of our national borders. However, this label was short-lived because two months later, on 9 December 1996, leaving the other family members behind, my brother and I decided to cross Lake Tanganyika aboard a little wooden boat.

Our trip to Tanzania was a journey of hope because of the desperation that had encroached on our lives. We tried to leave Swima on 9 December, but that night when the Mayi-Mayi fighters – armed militias – learned that our boat was leaving and that the destination was Tanzania, they went down to Lake Tanganyika and attacked us. They shot in the air and threatened to shoot us if we left because they did not want people to leave the country. They said fleeing was not patriotic, which is why they urged people to stay and fight for their country. We managed to escape through the lùbenga – a large plantation of mango, avocado and palm trees – where we hid before returning home. The next evening, 10 December, we tried again, and this time we were successful. We did not go directly from Swima to Tanzania as we made several stops in different villages along the Ubwari peninsula, picking up passengers along the way.

Our wooden boat was powered by a Mariner 45 engine, but had some mechanical issues. At one point the engine malfunctioned and our little boat nearly capsized because it was overloaded with both people and their luggage. During our 6-day journey as boat people, many, especially children, suffered from dehydration and intense hunger. When we finally arrived in Kigoma, we did not go straight to the harbour as the police would have arrested us since we did not have the proper documents to enter Tanzania. We were boat people and undocumented migrants. We sailed to Kigali, a rural area on the outskirts of Kigoma near Kalalangabo along the shore of Lake Tanganyika. It was around 9:00 a.m. when we arrived. From Kigali, we walked to the city of Kigoma. From there, we were taken to the Nyarugusu Refugees’ Camp. The camp was literally in the middle of nowhere, as we used to say in those days, considering its location in the jungle. The Tanzanian immigration authorities referred to us as those boat people.

The Nyarugusu camp is located in the province of Kigoma, Tanzania, approximately one hundred and sixty kilometres from the city of Kigoma, east of Lake Tanganyika. Nyarugusu is one of the largest and best-known refugee camps of the twenty-first century, with more than one hundred and fifty thousand refugees as of 2018.[2] When we arrived there, the camp was just one month old and housed approximately eighty thousand people – all from DRC. The camp was later expanded as some other refugees from different camps such as Lugufu, Mutabila, etc. were brought to Nyarugusu. Because the camp was located at a place that had never been inhabited before the arrival of refugees, our frequent visitors were initially wild animals. It was quite common to come across, for example, big snakes, antelopes, and monkeys, at any given time. At night it was common to hear sounds of wild animals such as hyena and, geographically, being in a forest, Nyarugusu was very wet and cold in those early days. Life was unbearably difficult. While in the camp, I did part of my schooling. Initially, our classrooms were under trees and we sat on cut pieces of trees or rocks. We had no blackboards or any school materials such as books or pens. Many stopped going to school considering the conditions. A few of us endured the conditions and soldiered on.

The world is experiencing the largest refugee crisis in history. Without a doubt, forced migration worldwide is at record numbers. According to a UNHCR report, by the end of 2019 about 79.5 million people had been forcibly displaced around the world as a result of persecution, conflict, violence, human rights violations or events seriously disturbing public order.[3] This basically means that on average, one person around the world is displaced from their homes every two seconds. These figures correspond to three main groups: refugees, internally displaced persons (IDPs), and asylum seekers. Beside these three main groups are millions of other populations of concern such as stateless people who have been denied citizenship and access to basic rights like education, healthcare, employment, and freedom of movement. About twenty-six million people are refugees, forty-six million are internally displaced, and four million are asylum seekers. Many have dangerously crossed borders at the risk of their lives in search of security and protection. As a result, many die or go missing during the course of their emigration.

This situation is one of the explanations for the current boom in theological reflection vis-à-vis contemporary trends in human mobility. The factors that give rise to this increased attention are multiple and sometimes subject to prejudiced reasons such as the passionate interest and personal experience of some theologians, which is partly the reason this book has been written. It addresses the current debates on the relationship between forced migration and transformational development by exploring ways in which refugees contribute to the development of their host country. It also highlights the relevance of their contribution to the socioeconomic welfare of the local community. In the context of this interdisciplinary approach, the question of refugees is presented in a way that befits the acumen of theologians and benefits development practitioners in reflection and action. The question of refugees and asylum seekers in this twenty-first century commands common interest and presents an opportunity for and the means to research other ends. The current situation is proof that both theological researchers and church leaders need a cutting-edge perspective and a more critical sense due to the complexity of this discipline. So this book provides pointers on how we can take the challenges related to the refugee phenomenon and turn them into opportunities for ministry as the church.

The faith articulation and spirituality of refugees are evidently among the areas of interest to practical theologians. This interest could be informed by the fact that forced migration leads to deeper theological reformulation. The faith of refugees reveals new faces of God, and in the phenomenon of forced migration, various religious perceptions and spiritualities converge in the same social context.[4] For many refugees, faith constitutes a support system during their migratory journey. For example, they would perform some religious rites before their departure and would thank God as soon as they cross the border among other things. Hence, in most cases, their migration experience represents a test of their faith in God. As it were, forced migration is ever present in the Bible, and aspects of a God who is ever on the move are found throughout the pages of this sacred writ. Basically, forced migration is a central feature of the biblical narrative, although too often it has not been considered as such in Christian thought. Therefore this book promotes a theology that calls us the church to champion the protection and integration of refugees into our immediate communities.

When one observes the ministry of Jesus Christ during his time here on earth, one realizes that he was the defender of the oppressed, the marginalized, and those excluded by the evil human systems. From the beginning of his ministry, Jesus explained his mission: he came to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim deliverance to prisoners, to announce recovery of sight to the blind, and to set the oppressed free (cf. Luke 4:18–19). This mission is quite integral and provides evidence of the depth of Christ’s love and his care for humanity. The mission of Jesus further provides pointers to the fact that God does not tolerate any of us being subjected to systemic poverty or suffering oppression and socioeconomic exclusion. Through his love, Jesus calls us to follow in his footsteps by helping the needy, the heartbroken, the wounded, the forgotten, and the captives among us. Because of this call, we have the responsibility to renew hope. It is our duty to advocate for the dignity of all human beings – especially those who are unable to get by on their own – in a constant attempt to create a shalom community.

In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus taught deeper truths concerning the lives of wayfarers here on earth when he told the disciples about the effect of salt and the influence of light. As salt brings out the flavour of any food and preserves, cleans, and helps to heal infections, so should we wayfarers. For us to be salt in this world, we must keep our distinct properties and salty flavour. When we assimilate the ways of thinking and acting of the world through which we are only passing, we lose our salty taste. Our engagement in matters of social concern is meant to add flavour and change the taste of this current system. In the same way, as light expels darkness, the presence of wayfarers in this world is de facto to brighten all surrounding places. However, a light hidden under a table cannot lighten up anything. When we hide inside our places of worship and refuse to bring that light into the community, we are spiritually ineffectual. When we speak, we shed light on social problems with the truth of God’s word and allow its light to shine through. When we learn that people are plagued by poverty, we must apply the truth of God to our lives and do all we can to help. When injustice reigns, we must speak for the oppressed as the Lord Jesus did. In short, we should be socially active as the church. God expects us to be salt and light in our immediate communities, flavouring, stimulating, and lighting up every corner as much as we can.

Certainly the history of humanity is marked by migratory movements, and we are wayfaring strangers travelling through this world. This is true spiritually just as it is physically because we are a generation on the move. The motivations for migration have been and still are varied. To wonder about the causes and the effects of the migratory flows we are currently facing implies considering the meaning of the present global evolution. In the context of globalization organized on political bases, it is important to define the peculiarity of today’s migratory movements, identify their many causes, and derive results for reflection and action. For this reason, I make use of the SEA (See, Evaluate, Act) approach – a contextual method for interpreting Scripture socio-scientifically. This approach is here employed through the lenses of forced migration and transformational development.

Following the SEA approach, the process of biblical interpretation starts with a reflective study of the original context, that is, see. Then follows an analysis of the text to allow it to speak of the context, that is, evaluate. Finally, the interpreter moves to action by applying the meaning of the text to a current situation as a response, that is, act. The SEA approach allows the interpreter to make sense of contemporary realities out of a Bible narrative, event, or scene. Thus the rereading of the biblical text makes it possible to assess whether our reality is as God wants it; and whether our plan of action allows us to work with God in bringing about holistic transformation and sustainable change. This interpretation process is continuous and therefore praxical as each action leads to further reflection, further analysis, and even more action. This is the cycle of praxis encouraged in this book.

With such a praxical approach to socio-scientific hermeneutics, we are here challenged to speak on human acceptance and equal opportunity so that people will come to realize that we ought to be excited about living together as one human race and as members of one human community in tolerance, coexistence, and mutual respect. Both the refugee community and the host community are therefore reminded of their roles in society by championing the ethos of communal living and social cohesion as in a shalom community, which is a community characterized by peace, harmony, and just relationships. So this book presents a paradigm shift in the theology of development as it uses practical methods to theologize about those millions of refugees around the world for whom poverty is systemic, hunger is daily, opportunity is restricted, and hope is in short supply.[5]

A collective effort is necessary to avoid further forced migrations, and as a church we can play a role by not being absent when people suffer. The suffering and misery of our people should be a great concern to us. The idea of a collective effort in response to forced human migrations should cause us to say in unity: enough is enough with Thabo Mbeki because we have seen too many dead bodies littering the African landscape; we have seen too many displaced Africans . . . crossing national borders, driven by fear of death at the hands of fellow Africans; we have seen enough of death and destruction.[6] By urging Africans to say in unity: enough is enough because of too many dead bodies . . . [and] too many displaced [people], we affirm our conviction that all is not lost. Africa can still rise again above armed conflicts, rebel movements, and sociopolitical problems. This is our firm conviction, and our hope against hope.

This book is written with a strong conviction that despite the complexities of the problems in our various African countries, this continent shall once again be at peace. However improbable this may sound, one day Africa shall flourish. This is why the book reflects on the images of God in the lived experiences of refugees, asylum seekers and all those in refugee-like situations by highlighting the mission of a God who does not stay on the other side of the border but crosses over in an attempt to accomplish his redemptive plan. It focuses on the mission of the migrant Christ who traverses the divine-human frontier so as to break the boundaries that separate us from ourselves, and us from God. The book also draws attention to the work of the ever-moving Holy Spirit who always roams around inspiring us to shared humanity in solidarity, unity, and mutuality. This book is born from the synthetic identity of those who have been excluded or pushed away to the periphery such as refugees. For them, the book reveals a sense of double belonging and expresses a process for redefining their identity in an attempt to reclaim the centre.

At a time when theology is shunned by other academic disciplines, it is claiming its place within them because it deals more and more with themes associated with human and social sciences. Many of these themes were once the domain of theology and were removed from them in favour of emerging disciplines. This book sends a nod to the humanities and social sciences to kindly welcome theology within their academic boundaries. Theology is at a crossroads. It is in the process of being redefined outside the institutional shackles to which until recently it has been subject. To rediscover its place of nobility within the humanities and social sciences, theology must be transdisciplinary. It must be connected with the reality of the world in which it is built so as to link faith and doctrines with the realities of the world.

Throughout the pages of the Bible, foreignness plays a critical role. In Luke 10:25–37 for example, we read one of the most famous parables of Jesus: the good Samaritan. We are told that a man was going from Jerusalem down to Jericho. He was attacked, beaten, robbed, and left in a state of vulnerability – half dead. First, we see a priest pass by, but he does nothing to help the dying man. Although the priest was a symbol of hope, he passed to the other side of the road, deliberately keeping a safe distance between himself and the vulnerable man who was fighting for his life and needed urgent help. In so doing, the priest only amplified the hopelessness of this vulnerable man. Second, we see a Levite pass by. The Levites were a highly respected group for many reasons including the fact that they taught the law, served in the temple, and were the tribe of the priests. Nevertheless, the Levite also walked away and wanted nothing to do with the vulnerable, dying man. He also amplified the hopelessness of the vulnerable man.

As the story continues, we see a foreign migrant from Samaria come and help this dying man; and Jesus openly refers to this foreigner as good. Jesus then tells the legal specialist to Go and do likewise (Luke 10:37). Here Jesus uses a foreigner as a moral yardstick and an example to follow if one wants to be good. The implication of this truth is of critical relevance for us