By Dana Binnendijk, Field Coordinator
The heat hits you hard upon arrival in Ghana. At the Buduburam refugee camp, there is little relief besides the shade of the trees or the sporadic breeze if it has just rained. The sun beating down on your back during the day is not relieved in the evening, since the humidity continues to overwhelm the small stuffy rooms in the tiny UNHCR and refugee-built houses. Even with a fan beating directly on your face through a malaria net all night, you will undoubtedly sweat through your sheets. And this is the rainy season - the coolest season of the year.
Those living in the camp wake up with the sun in the morning to start their days. The sound of pots and pans banging starts around 5am. If that doesn't wake you up, the roosters will. All of the activity is so close that it sounds as though everyone is actually in your bedroom. But you get used to it. After a few days, waking up to the smell of burning charcoal and fire is actually quite comforting despite the early hour. When I'm walking through the dirt streets later in the day, carefully avoiding trash or rivers of waste, I try to ignore the stench and summon up the comforting smells of the camp, such as the cooking of kasava or fresh bread.
The primarily Liberian settlement camp of Buduburam is a powerful example of how resilient people can be despite painful backgrounds and lack of resources. Everyone in the camp has lost a loved one – whether it is family, friends, or both - during the thirteen years of two consecutive violent civil wars in Liberia that finally ended in 2003. Small businesses have sprouted up all over camp, and it is not hard to find a place to buy a relatively healthy breakfast of egg and bread or to find a tailor to make Liberian-style clothing for men and women. The owners of these businesses hardly ever take a rest, and seem to work at least 15-hour days only to get up the next day to work again.
The Ghanaians are ready to see the camp closed. Protests in March were deemed illegal by the Ghanaian government and have lead to a serious increase in tensions between the Ghanaians and the Liberians in the camp. Hundreds of women and children had gathered and asked for $1,000 per refugee from UNHCR to go back to Liberia or to be relocated to the United States. Neither demand was realistic as the United States is no longer accepting refugees from the camp and the UNHCR does not have the funds to give such sums of money to the 42,000 slated for repatriation. During this contentious period, there were reports of protesting women running around naked – apparently untrue according to volunteers who were in Buduburam during this period. It was also reported that arrests of the protesters led to severe human rights violations such as beatings and rape of the women. It's hard to sort fact from fiction in such mixed and confused reports, but there was undoubtedly violence during March and April.
Rumors are now circulating that the camp will be broken up into different communities for 'better monitoring', as has been reported in newspapers over the past couple of months. No one knows when exactly this will take place, but one can understand why Ghanaians think it is time for the camp to close. It has been almost five years since the war ended in Liberia and Ghana, itself a not a rich country, has tried to be generous. But dividing people in the camp seems to be a drastic move that will take extra resources and potentially split up friends and family. It will not necessarily accomplish an earlier departure. The Liberians I have spoken to already want to go home. The majority has plans to leave in the next month or two, and people are repatriating at a record rate. It is hard to understand what the splitting up of the camp would accomplish except to create more resentment and raise tensions still further. Since the details of these potential plans were never publicly stated, it is unclear how the change in the Interior Minister of Ghana will affect decisions made about refugee repatriation.
Certainly, fears mix with anticipation when refugees look toward their journey back to Liberia. The general fear people have about going back has to do with finding houses, finishing their education, getting jobs, and keeping family together. Those who have either lived all their lives on camp since 1990 and/or whose families and friends were killed during the war are uncertain about their futures. Without connections, will they be able to find homes when they go back to Liberia? If they have started businesses, will they be able to set up shop in their village or in Monrovia? Will those who were unable to finish high school be able to find a job or go back to college even though they have little to no money? Another concern is the overcrowding of Monrovia, since it is a city already with a large population that could be overwhelmed with the number of incoming refugees.
It is not hard to see both sides of the issue. From the outside, it seems that the majority of Liberians and Ghanaians want the same thing - a return to Liberia. Refugees want to return to a place where they can legally find work and create new lives for themselves, while Ghanaians want to have their land back. So why the struggle?
A severe lack of resources reinforces underlying fears among Liberians. For some, this fear translated into frustration with lack of help and a sense of abandonment, despite all the previous aid from Ghanaians and the international community. Aid has tapered off as early as 2000, and even more so since the end of the war in Liberia in 2003. The protesters captured these feelings and put them into action, but unfortunately this only increased tensions between the two parties.
It is true that there is little help in the repatriation process. Each refugee receives a small sum of 100 USD from UNHCR upon return to Liberia, which does not even cover the cost of transporting themselves or their belongings. After that, everyone has to make their way on their own, hopefully with some help from friends and family in Liberia. It's hard to blame any of the parties involved since it seems to come down to the fact that no one has the money to support the return of 42,000 refugees. Without the projects that several small NGOs are running, some refugees would return with no plans, no money, and no support mechanisms. For some, it must feel like walking straight off a cliff with their eyes closed.
