Translator: Camille J. Reviewer: Anouk B. Bello B.
They
are us!
With this only certainty in mind,
I left on 8th December 2012
to go to Jordan…
with my socks,
and my needles.
The socks,
they are very important, because it’s cold in the winter.
The needles, because I am a professional acupuncturist.
I left and arrived in Jordan,
in one of the two largest refugee camps in the world,
Zaatari camp, which is a Syrian camp.
And I integrated into military teams, and worked with them,
they were medical officers, from Maroccan military teams.
Those doctors did a wonderful job, as they brought back to life
war wounded who arrived with their legs torned apart,
amputees who crossed the Syrian border by walking,
being carried in wheelbarrows or by their relatives.
And me,
I was there, with my needles,
because in these camps,
most of the time, there is a terrible lack of morphine.
So I was there to ease the pain of these injured people,
the pain of phantom limbs,
the pain of the burned patients, and the pain of the amputees.
The first time is always the hardest.
But I continued!
With the small association I created,
I travelled along the Syrian border,
several times, to continue to ease the pain of these people.
That is why,
in the spring of 2014,
I was there, in the north of Iraq,
when Daesh carried out its biggest offensive.
With my own eyes, I had never seen so many people
arrive in such a short time.
Imagine two million and a half people fleeing,
leaving their homes,
just to save their necks.
At that time, I was associated with a doctor,
a local doctor,
and always with my small needles, we decided to go, in his car,
and with some boxes of needles and medicines,
to meet with the refugees.
At the beginning, we did it with our own ressources, because we were with our car.
We would adapt to the weather conditions.
You have to know that, in these regions, it’s really hot.
There is a lot of wind and sand. And it gets dark early.
Working with our headlamps,
we tried to ease as much as possible the pain of people, of war wounded.
Day after day, I saw the extend of the damages,
and above all, the needs.
So we decided; we imagined a concept,
a concept finally convenient and adapted to the circumstances.
I came back to Paris, and we bought a truck,
equipped with medical equipment.
We sent it by boat from Marseille to Iraq.
We opened our first mobile clinic in January 2015.
It was wonderful!
We went to these people’s bedside, and thanks to this vehicle,
we could go a little further each time,
go out of the city,
go to the countryside, into the mountains.
What was wonderful, was that I started to leave my needles,
in order to meet needs that became more and more important.
In the streets, there are so many children and women.
Only 9% of the refugees have access to camps.
All the others stay in public spaces.
So we started to recruit one, then two and three doctors,
all of them were chosen among the refugees.
Thus we could give them some work to do and help them to regain their dignity.
In the following weeks and months,
we moved from one to several mobile clinics.
So much so that in 2015, we could provide 40,000 cares, on 30 sites,
identified by our teams, with fourteen doctors that we hired.
Why am I doing this ?
I am often asked this question.
I often ask myself this question too.
Is this because of my origins?
I am the granddaughter of an Armenian deportee.
I had the opportunity to be born in France,
in a country in peace.
And I always told myself that the day
I would be able to help other people,
as some people did for my family,
I would do it.
I am still a professional acupuncturist.
I am married. I have three children. I live in Paris.
But I continue. And I decided to continue!
At first, I thought that these missions would last 6 months,
enough time for the exiled people to go back home, for the war to stop.
Two years later, we are still here.
And we continue!
Why?
Because they are us.
Because those people,
they put their lives in danger, and they come to our country.
So much so that we see them everywhere, around our country, on our borders.
We decided to set up a bus in Calais too.
As I told you, I thought these missions would last six months.
Two years later we are still here.
We set up a bus in Calais.
But…
It’s really difficult.
It’s still really difficult for several reasons.
In Iraq, we work in an area where we are threatened :
we are close to the front line.
It’s also difficult because we are often manipulated.
We spent a lot of money every month
in order to pay the wages, the cares
and to provide 6,000 cares every month.
And it’s difficult for a woman too,
to impose on people like that, in this region of Orient,
where, in the end, men make the law.
And then it’s very difficult for a third reason.
It’s always very disheartening to see that this misery never ends.
To see the extend of this human tragedy,
whose end isn’t in sight.
It’s very disheartening.
It’s overwhelming!
But I don’t have the courage to stop!
Because they are us!
Thank you!
(Applause)
They
are us!
With this only certainty in mind,
I left on 8th December 2012
to go to Jordan…
with my socks,
and my needles.
The socks,
they are very important, because it’s cold in the winter.
The needles, because I am a professional acupuncturist.
I left and arrived in Jordan,
in one of the two largest refugee camps in the world,
Zaatari camp, which is a Syrian camp.
And I integrated into military teams, and worked with them,
they were medical officers, from Maroccan military teams.
Those doctors did a wonderful job, as they brought back to life
war wounded who arrived with their legs torned apart,
amputees who crossed the Syrian border by walking,
being carried in wheelbarrows or by their relatives.
And me,
I was there, with my needles,
because in these camps,
most of the time, there is a terrible lack of morphine.
So I was there to ease the pain of these injured people,
the pain of phantom limbs,
the pain of the burned patients, and the pain of the amputees.
The first time is always the hardest.
But I continued!
With the small association I created,
I travelled along the Syrian border,
several times, to continue to ease the pain of these people.
That is why,
in the spring of 2014,
I was there, in the north of Iraq,
when Daesh carried out its biggest offensive.
With my own eyes, I had never seen so many people
arrive in such a short time.
Imagine two million and a half people fleeing,
leaving their homes,
just to save their necks.
At that time, I was associated with a doctor,
a local doctor,
and always with my small needles, we decided to go, in his car,
and with some boxes of needles and medicines,
to meet with the refugees.
At the beginning, we did it with our own ressources, because we were with our car.
We would adapt to the weather conditions.
You have to know that, in these regions, it’s really hot.
There is a lot of wind and sand. And it gets dark early.
Working with our headlamps,
we tried to ease as much as possible the pain of people, of war wounded.
Day after day, I saw the extend of the damages,
and above all, the needs.
So we decided; we imagined a concept,
a concept finally convenient and adapted to the circumstances.
I came back to Paris, and we bought a truck,
equipped with medical equipment.
We sent it by boat from Marseille to Iraq.
We opened our first mobile clinic in January 2015.
It was wonderful!
We went to these people’s bedside, and thanks to this vehicle,
we could go a little further each time,
go out of the city,
go to the countryside, into the mountains.
What was wonderful, was that I started to leave my needles,
in order to meet needs that became more and more important.
In the streets, there are so many children and women.
Only 9% of the refugees have access to camps.
All the others stay in public spaces.
So we started to recruit one, then two and three doctors,
all of them were chosen among the refugees.
Thus we could give them some work to do and help them to regain their dignity.
In the following weeks and months,
we moved from one to several mobile clinics.
So much so that in 2015, we could provide 40,000 cares, on 30 sites,
identified by our teams, with fourteen doctors that we hired.
Why am I doing this ?
I am often asked this question.
I often ask myself this question too.
Is this because of my origins?
I am the granddaughter of an Armenian deportee.
I had the opportunity to be born in France,
in a country in peace.
And I always told myself that the day
I would be able to help other people,
as some people did for my family,
I would do it.
I am still a professional acupuncturist.
I am married. I have three children. I live in Paris.
But I continue. And I decided to continue!
At first, I thought that these missions would last 6 months,
enough time for the exiled people to go back home, for the war to stop.
Two years later, we are still here.
And we continue!
Why?
Because they are us.
Because those people,
they put their lives in danger, and they come to our country.
So much so that we see them everywhere, around our country, on our borders.
We decided to set up a bus in Calais too.
As I told you, I thought these missions would last six months.
Two years later we are still here.
We set up a bus in Calais.
But…
It’s really difficult.
It’s still really difficult for several reasons.
In Iraq, we work in an area where we are threatened :
we are close to the front line.
It’s also difficult because we are often manipulated.
We spent a lot of money every month
in order to pay the wages, the cares
and to provide 6,000 cares every month.
And it’s difficult for a woman too,
to impose on people like that, in this region of Orient,
where, in the end, men make the law.
And then it’s very difficult for a third reason.
It’s always very disheartening to see that this misery never ends.
To see the extend of this human tragedy,
whose end isn’t in sight.
It’s very disheartening.
It’s overwhelming!
But I don’t have the courage to stop!
Because they are us!
Thank you!
(Applause)
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