(this photo is not from Bulgaria but I recently received it and it's o.k. for the following, an essay I just wrote on 'MIGRANTS')
Same Game
I celebrated like I was part of the team when the Chicago Bulls won their first NBA championship in 1991, and in a way, I was. After having watched or attended nearly every game that season and proved my grandpa wrong—a Detroit Pistons fan who claimed that Michael Jordan was a one man show who’d never lead his team to the Finals, let alone win—I ran outside after the Bulls’ victory to join the neighborhood celebration. Mr. Ristonovitch, who was born in Serbia, and Mr. Walsh, who was born in Ireland, were shooting off bottle rockets and lighting Thunder Bombs with kids whose families had lived in the neighborhood for a couple generations. Lucretia, an old woman from Poland, only flicked on her light to see what the commotion was, and just as quickly, flicked it off. Surely, there were others who just read about the victory in the next day’s newspaper.
Although there were only 12 players on the roster, coaches, and a few ball boys, a world of people took part in the Bulls’ championship in 1991, as well as their loss to the Detroit Pistons in the Eastern Conference Finals the year before. The Chicago Bulls were more than just a few men dribbling basketballs. Ticket sales, advertising during televised games, merchandise, newspaper headlines and magazine cover stories, a hero for kids who wanted to ‘be like Mike,’ as well as a target for adversaries of the franchise, were all part of the phenomenon. I use this example of a professional basketball team, and its far-reaching affects on culture, economics and society, to explain the way in which all people are migrants. The only thing that differs from person to person is the degree to which he or she is a migrant. From this understanding, one will not have to rely on a law to guide one’s treatment, acceptance and encouragement of migrants. Instead, that treatment will reflect one’s treatment of self and friends, and with that personal touch, we’ll be ‘getting it right.’
There are four degrees of migrants and I will continue using the NBA franchise example to explain these degrees. The first is the migrant himself or herself. This is the player and the coach. Their hearts are exposed. They’re on the court or in the huddle, taking the bumps and bruises that come with the terrain they’ve taken to. They provide entertainment and inspiration, open up dialogues between people from different cultures and from different backgrounds. They enjoy the praise and bear the pain that comes with the challenge that they’ve undertaken. This first-degree migrant is the Peace Corps Volunteer in Bulgaria. It is the villager who leaves home to study in Sofia, Plovdiv or Smolyan, as well as those who travel to Greece, Spain and Denmark to work as drivers, harvesters and servers.
The second degree is made up of people who have a vested interest in the franchise or the players. For the NBA team, these are players’ families, advertisers, TV stations and gamblers. For migrants, these are also family members who don’t get to see a parent or child because he or she has left home to pursue work. While family members may benefit financially, they miss out on spending time together as a family and the village itself loses some of its positive role models. This group includes politicians, legislators and owners of businesses who employ migrant workers. They are very much involved with the laws regarding these men and women. Jobs, money, and reputation depend on these ‘players.’ The United States Government and a Peace Corps Volunteer’s co-workers and family also comprise this group
The third degree of migrants are people who are conscious of the fact that men and women from various societies and from differing political and economic backgrounds have left home to find work because their needs weren’t being met at home. These migrants correspond to fans and foes of teams in the NBA. These fans cheer or boo but they don’t remain silent. Carrying this example further and outside of the pro basketball realm, this third degree migrant is someone who understands that such contact will enrich his or her own life. And conversely, a third degree migrant may avoid contact with people they see as ‘foreign’ for fear that such men and women will take away jobs and spoil the status that they themselves have worked to achieve. Third degree migrants are also students who have a PCV as their English teacher. These are the villagers who have formed relationships with PCVs, those who have intentionally stayed away from PCVs, as well as locals whose conversations around the dinner table have been affected by the presence and influence of a volunteer in their village. A third-degree migrant is not necessarily relegated to this status only.
The fourth degree migrant is rare. This is the person who has no direct contact with migrants and isn’t even conscious of their existence. While this qualification may seem to contradict itself, I argue that the 91 year-old woman, who has never left her village, is a migrant. Even if she does not know anyone who has left her village for work, the jobs available in her village, are affected by migrants. And, similarly, the person who isn’t conscious that the NBA team exists, doesn’t watch the games or read the newspapers, is affected by the far-reaching economic and social effects produced by the team.
We don’t act in a void. Everything we do affects us, the doer of the action, those around us—whether they have a vested interest in us or whether they are conscious or unconscious of our existence—and ever more apparently, the world itself. The implications of our actions run ad infinitum and shape the world, from the attention we give to a particular cause, to the way we greet or ignore a stranger, choosing paper or plastic, or following or not following a sports team. We cannot count on legislation alone to direct our treatment of migrants. Instead, we need to begin by recognizing that we are all migrants.
A migrant is a symbol of change and while change can be frightening, terrifying to some, as Heraclitus said over 2,500 years ago, “All that endures is change.” The degree that one is a migrant may change too, but now, as we are all humans, we are all migrants, and recognizing and embracing this will enable us to reap the benefits of celebrating our differences and learning from one another.
The 2009 Human Development Report states, “Migration has the potentiality to greatly improve human welfare if we ‘get it right.’” This ‘getting it right’ does not come from regulations but from a migrant’s own personal touch to the work he or she does. The Peace Corps provides this personal touch. Instead of only providing technical aid, the PCV instills a quality of humanness in that aid. The PCV builds up those with whom he or she comes into contact by recognizing the others’ humanness, not simply filling a quota.
We don’t only teach students about our culture and traditions but we organize Halloween parties, show films in our village and play basketball after school. We travel to neighboring villages for Ping Pong tournaments to show our support of the participating students. We share meals with host families and new friends and learn about their culture and traditions. After helping men filling out applications for seasonal work, we don’t simply say, “Good night.” We go out for coffee with them and listen to their hopes and fears. We set up informal classes to teach basic language skills. We help write letters. We share photographs and stories about our families with co-workers and neighbors.
Our role and our actions in Bulgaria must constantly be evaluated because what might seem right today will not serve tomorrow. By adding a personal touch to the work we do, and living as migrants among migrants, acknowledging and respecting our differences, we’re on our way to ‘getting it right.’
