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Cafe Exile gives free advice to refugees

      A couple weeks ago Café Exil brought a kid from Guinea to us in the form or an emergency case for our “emergency room,” the bedroom that people in difficult situations that can be taken care of in a few days to a week, stay in.  He told the foreign bureau he was 16 years old, and by law should be put in a group home for minors where he would start school right away and be integrated into society.  Cool, no sweat, right?  Wrong.  With the Ausländerbehörde (foreign bureau) you are guilty until proven innocent.   The Behörde of course, did not believe he was 16, but rather 18, a nice age where one can be easily dumped on the street. In their defense he was very tall.  So we took him in until he could go to the doctor and get a bone test proving his true age. 
            He only spoke French and was illiterate. Luckily, in the multilingual community of Brot u. Rosen there are three French-speaking Germans and one French-speaking volunteer who does not happen to be me.  The poor kid was scared to death of us.  He barely ate and hid in his room until we dragged him out for food and board games and movies.  Then he began to smile and laugh and hopefully feel a bit better. I myself did not communicate very much with him. I managed “Hello, my name is Katarina” before my French sputtered and died. Sometimes when only I was around, he would ask me if he could use the telephone.  Or at least that is how I interpreted “French French French French French telephone French French French?”
          It was extremely impressive how some of our Mitbewohners (housemates), who also don’t speak a word of French, still managed to talk to the kid and hung out with him.  It is a talent that would be nice to pick up in my time here!  I think it helped that both of them have kids of their own, and found it easier to take this lost soul under their wing. 
            For example our Somali Mitbewohner, (a real jokester at heart), upon being introduced to the kid, pointed out myself and the  Honduran woman who also lives here, saying, “My friend, don’t listen to anything those two say, they’re crazy!”  Merci!
          The kid had his doctor’s appointment after staying the weekend with us, and lo and behold he was a tall 16 years old! No way, right?  The same day he headed out for his new home with other kids his age, and the chance to go to school for the very first time.  So, all in all, a happy ending, and hopefully a happy beginning for the Guinean kid! 
           The next Sunday, I came down from my room after breakfast with coat and scarf in hand ready to throw the coat over a kitchen chair and relax until the bus came that would take me to church.  And so I entered the kitchen and almost threw my coat on a family of Somalis who I swear were not there before.  This is not all that weird if you live at Brot u. Rosen, but not completely normal either.  People always seem to pop in through our often unlocked terrace door, however, the difference being that we usually know them. (Interestingly, one day a man turned up out of the blue who had lived in at B. und R. twelve years ago!) Apparently the exhausted young refugee and her toddler and baby were relatives of our Somali Mitbewohner, and were here to stay for……days?......weeks?......  The surprise and dismay in the room were almost palpable as everyone wondered where on earth to put them.  But of course room was found, and they ended up staying for about four or five days.

Weekly human rights protest at Foreign Bureau

          Brot and Rosen doesn’t just take people out of blue, although they have been known to do so in the past in desperate situations. People are referred to B. and R. through pastors and nonprofits which are known to Brot and Rosen and also work with refugees. Then the request or “Gastanfrage” is discussed among the entire group weighing the need against the possibility of having room for one more. We often have to say no.  We don’t have the room, or the person doesn’t fit the criteria of utterly paperless and homeless, or the impression from a first meeting with them is that they would not be a good fit for the kind of community we live in, or the family is too big, the house too full.  During their sabbatical last spring and summer, Brot and Rosen, its members frazzled and exhausted, came to the conclusion that as much as they wanted to, they could not save the world, but could only take in so many. They noticed that trying to stuff as many people as possible into our house was wringing them dry and hurting the community more than helping it. Now they are more cautious and try to take better care of themselves so they can continue to help others.