I joined my current work mid-september. We are still getting to know each other although I must say that I feel quite at home with my co-workers. I work as a teacher now, but in my case it is just a title. My job description is and will always be “educator”. Here in Luxembourg, an educator can do many different jobs, whereas teachers only work in schools. In my case, I am working with two teachers and one educator. The educator was only ever working in schools though. Since all of my colleagues have a lot of experience in teaching and I have none, I am learning a lot. But, they also seem to appreciate that I am experienced in many different domains. For example, I worked at a centre for pregnant teens and underaged moms. I worked with divorced couples who were not allowed to see their children without supervision. I worked at different nurseries (with babies and toddlers and young kids). I worked with kids after school, helping with homework and other activities. And now, I work at a school, teaching a class of eleven kids with one other teacher. My colleagues asked me about my most memorable situation at any of my jobs during a team-meeting. I didn’t have to think for a long.
Here it is: (just a head’s up, I am bound to professional secrecy and can’t reveal too many details)
I was working with a teenage mom who had not seen her parents in months. She was a refugee from Eritrea and had come to Luxembourg with her family years before. Unfortunately, she became pregnant when she was sixteen and her parents banished her, throwing her out of their home and out of their lives. Shortly before turning eighteen the father of the child (now almost 1 year old) asked for her hand in marriage. The young mom missed her family and she tried getting in touch, because a wedding is a family thing. The family agreed to see her and her fiancé, and invited them for a reconciliation lunch. Due to a history of violence, we at the centre agreed that the child would not go to the dinner and the young mom was to be accompanied by an educator. Since I worked that day, I went along unsure if I would be allowed to enter the house or if I had to wait in the car. We had emergency plans mapped out with different professionals and everyone was tense and nervous when the day finally arrived.
Upon arrival we were all greeted by the family and I was hugged and kissed, they thanked me profusely for bringing their kid back home. In the living room, I was seated on the far end of a sofa, keeping a good view of what was happening. Two priests were present with the family, it kept me on my toes. They began praying and then they began talking in their language that I did not understand. Every once in a while the young mom gave me a thumb’s up or a smile, and by the tone of the conversation I understood that everything seemed to be going well. Two hours went by and everyone had said their piece. The priests prayed again and the women left the room, apart from me. I was asked to move one seat down on a chair before I was explained that everything had gone better than expected and that they would have lunch together now. The men sat around a dinner table. The women sat around the coffee table, and they got me a small table where I had sat before. I received a plate with some kind of wraps, red sauce (spicy) and green sauce. The women and the men had the same plates set in the middle of their table. After another prayer, they all started to eat. I got a few amused looks; they were watching me eat, and trying to read my reaction to the spicy food and the fact that we all ate with our hand. They showed me how it was done in an authentic Eritrean way: tearing a piece off the wrap and then scooping up both sauces. Apparently, I did well for a European. The meal was very very tasty – and I am a picky eater. I have no idea what I really ate or how the dish is called. But it was a moment to remember for sure. Normally, I would have declined the invitation for lunch as I don’t like eating in front of strangers, but it felt as if the fragile bond and peace the family was making and fortifying during this lunch was an important reason to accept the invitation.
This encounter is still vivid in my mind. I remember how tense we all were, we even had a safe word in case things would go South and we needed the police to intervene. But I also remember the looks on the faces of the parents upon seeing their child and her fiancé when we arrived. I was unsure if I was allowed into the house or not and kept in the back, but I was also ready to jump to action if the girl was in danger. I was glad I was invited to assist to the entire reconciliation lunch, to see the reconnection between the abandoned daughter and her parents, and to witness it all. The fact that I did not understand what they were saying but felt the positive change and the peace in the room adds to the intensity of the memory.
One or two weeks later I worked my last shift there. I like to think that I helped this girl and her family, as well as the little child. I don’t know where they are now, but I hope my presence that day made a difference and somehow, selfishly, I wish they all remember me. Maybe with a big smile when they think about that European woman eating their spicy food with the right (which means of course the left) hand.
My colleagues listened to me sharing my memories and they told me that they could not have done it. They would have been too afraid to go there alone, and much more. But for me it was work and although I was a bit scared, I was also acting as a professional. We are capable of so much more than we think we are.
Working with the little ones now is an enriching job. I love it a lot. But I am also happy I was able to make memories and experiences like the one mentioned above. I’d like to know what became of the little family. Unfortunately, that’s not how these things work. Anyway… This is a memory I will cherish and treasure forever.
reflections of an unquiet mind 