The Capacity to Aspire Among Rwandan Urban Refugee Women in Yaoundé, Cameroon DISSERTATION Presented in Partial Fulfillment Of

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The capacity to aspire among Rwandan urban refugee women in Yaoundé, Cameroon

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

Kelly Ann Yotebieng

Graduate Program in Anthropology

The Ohio State University

2019

Dissertation Committee:

Anna Willow, Adviser

Jennifer L. Syvertsen, co-chair

Barbara Piperata

Mark Moritz

Kendra McSweeney Copyrighted by

Kelly Ann Yotebieng

2019

Abstract

The overall goal of this dissertation is to shed light on how a growing population

of urban refugee women recursively rebuild their lives and communities after conflict and

displacement. This includes the aspirations, situated within their socio-cultural contexts that drive their decisions and subsequent actions. To do this, using the capacity to aspire theoretical framework (Appadurai, 2004; Bok, 2010), I build a conceptual model (see

Figure 1) to analyze the links between hope, aspirations, context, strategies, and constraints among Rwandan refugees, with a focus on women. Within the substantial literature on the political economy of hope (Bourdieu et al., 1999; Hage, 2003, 2016) and the capacity to aspire (Appadurai, 2004; Bok, 2010), household-level dynamics are notably absent. Linked with socio-cultural norms, for mothers in particular aspirations often hinge on shared visions of children’s futures, and these mothers are often the first to forego their needs to allow these desired futures to come to fruition.

My dissertation research emphasizes the need to study the links between women’s aspirations and strategies through a lens that includes both agency, and their socio- cultural constraints. Several themes emerged over the course of my research. The first theme that emerged is that strategies, even those which outsiders may label as “risky”, are often justified by the person undertaking the action if there is an imagined possibility for a better future. These strategies are often linked to potentially life changing scenarios for children in the household, and in part determined by socio-cultural expectations and

ii access to various forms of capital by women. A second broad theme that emerged across

households in this study were the dyads and triads, or sub-units that exist within households. These sub-units were linked to the sentiment that as their adult children got older, many mothers began to feel that they were becoming a burden or hindrance to their children’s being able to achieve their desired futures. This in turn affected mothers’ strategies and priorities. The third broad theme that emerged from my data was the idea that hope for the future was a way of coping with uncertainty and the challenges of the present. Hope was fueled and bolstered by faith and access to capital, which also in turn were vital to coping with challenges and necessary transgressions required to pursue the aspirations stemming from my research participants’ hope. Linked with this, even as the situation in the present became increasingly difficult, many households would continue to devise alternative visions for the future.

Taking Appadurai’s (2004) capacity to aspire theoretical framework in novel directions, in this dissertation I analyze the aspirations and strategies of Rwandan Hutu urban refugee women in Yaoundé, Cameroon through a conceptual model (Figure 1) that explores the relationships between insider aspirations and patterns in strategies and

household organization. This dissertation also engages the analytical approach of practice

theory to explore the socio-cultural expectations and norms that affect aspirations, access

to various forms of capital, and practice. My principal research question asks: How do socio-cultural contexts and challenges of systemic disempowerment affect women household members’ capacity to aspire? I use an ethnographic approach (semi-structured interviews and participant observation) to examine:

iii a) What are the aspirations for the future of different urban Rwandan refugee

household members? How do these differ or overlap between women and their

children? b) In what ways do practices towards achieving these aspirations change in the

context of challenges? How are these influenced by access to capital and socio-

cultural expectations of women?

This dissertation is based on 12 months of fieldwork which was conducted over 3 years

(2016-2018). The data generated were qualitatively analyzed using an open-coding scheme, identifying the three above-referenced broad themes that emerged from the data to provide perspectives on the capacity to aspire of Rwandan refugee women situated within their broader social, political, and emotional contexts. I illustrate these links through the presentation of in-depth case studies.

Turmoil in the Central Africa region has led to over 500,000 refugees and asylum seekers arriving over the past several decades in Cameroon, the safe haven of the Central

Africa region (UNHCR, 2016). Refugees are often perceived by outsiders as illustrations of social suffering, but their situations also demonstrate resilience and hope in their ability to endure extreme hardship in chaotic urban environments. A better understanding of hope and practice that lead to desired outcomes of refugees within growing urban centers in developing countries is imperative to inform programs aimed at bolstering their resilience that humanitarian agencies are still grappling to design. This is especially important to ensure that gendered disparities are not inadvertently exacerbated in designing these programs. In this dissertation, I demonstrate the transformative potential

iv of the powerful, but under-utilized, capacity to aspire framework to build a conceptual model that examines the aspirations and relevant constraints in achieving them of urban refugees, and discuss how this framework can be used to devise strategies that bolster refugees’ hope by meaningfully supporting them in addressing the challenges towards achieving their aspirations.

This dissertation is dedicated to the many strong and endlessly hopeful women that I have

met through my work and research that continue to inspire me every single day, to the

Rwandan refugee community fighting for their right to the international protection which

their refugee status provides as they live in exile across Africa, and to my Marcel,

Vincent-James, and Ruphine who were flexible and supportive in allowing me to be

absent for extended periods of time to complete this dissertation.

Acknowledgments

Firstly, I am forever appreciative of the guidance and support of my advisors Anna

Willow and Jennifer Syvertsen throughout this journey. They are both sources of

inspiration, wisdom, and strong women social scientist role-models that I will continue to

strive to emulate moving forward. I am grateful for the generous support provided to me

that allowed me to complete this research from the Fulbright Institute of International

Education U.S. Student Program, the United States Institute of Peace’s Jennings

Randolph Peace Scholars Program, the National Science Foundation Research

Experience for Graduate Students Program (Grant 60054966), the Mershon Center for

International Security Studies at the Ohio State University, the Department of Women's,

Gender and Sexuality Studies at the Ohio State University, the Coca-Cola-Critical

Difference for Women Grants for Research on Women, Gender and Gender Equity, the

Ohio State Department of Anthropology’s Elizabeth A. Salt award, the Josaphat Bekunru

Kubayanda Scholarship, the Marianna Russell Technology Grant, and the Ohio State

University’s Global Gateways Grant. I am equally appreciative for the feedback and support from Dr. Paschal Kum Awah with the University of Yaoundé I for his continual guidance and support related to doing research in Cameroon, and for his students for wholeheartedly accepting me into the Kum-Awah Research Group. I am also deeply indebted to my committee members for their constructive criticism, encouragement, and

vii personal and professional support over my years in the Ohio State University Department of Anthropology’s Ph.D. program. Returning to school after so many years in the field was an enormous challenge, but it was thanks to you, my mentors, that every minute was worthwhile. Thank you for the confidence you placed in me and the opportunities that you provided me.

viii

Vita

2000...... Lake Mary High School

2003...... B.A. Anthropology, Univ. of South Florida

2006...... M.P.H. International Health, Tulane Univ.

2003-2015 ...... Global Public Health Professional

2015-2018 ...... Graduate Research/Teaching Associate,

Department of Anthropology, The Ohio

State University

2018 to present ...... Presidential Fellow, The Ohio State

University

Publications

Yotebieng, K; Syvertsen, JL; Awah, P. (2018). Cessation clauses, uncertain futures, and

wellbeing among Rwandan urban refugees in Cameroon. Journal of Refugee

Studies, fey037. https://doi.org/10.1093/jrs/fey037

Yotebieng, K; Awah, P; Syvertsen, JL. (2018). “Is resilience possible when you are out

of place?” An ethnography of resilience among urban refugees in Yaoundé,

Cameroon. Journal of Refugee Studies, fey023. https://doi.org/10.1093/jrs/fey023

Yotebieng, K.; Forcone, T. (2018). The household in flux: Plasticity complicates the unit

of analysis. Anthropology in Action, 25(3), 13-22.

DOI:https://doi.org/10.3167/aia.2018.250302.

Yotebieng, K. (2018). Violence overshadowing hope among refugees? Society for

Applied Anthropology Newsletter, Gender Based Violence Topical Interest Group

Column. http://sfaa.net/news/index.php/2018/feb-2018/committees-and-

tigs/gender-based-violence-tig/

Yotebieng, K. (2018). Borders and Refuge: Citizenship, Mobility and Planning in a

Volatile World. Planning Theory and Practice.

https://doi.org/10.1080/14649357.2018.1558566

Robertson Bazzi, AR; Yotebieng, K; Rota, G; Agot, K; Syvertsen, JL. (2018).

Perspectives on biomedical HIV prevention options among women who inject

drugs. AIDS Care, 30(3), 343-346.

http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09540121.2017.1363369

Yotebieng, K; Steinman, K; Phelps, L; Schoeppner, S; & Wilkinson, D. (2018). It takes

more than translating a flier: Considerations in serving immigrants as victims of

crime in a large Midwestern city. Border Crossing, 8(1), 12-29.

http://tplondon.com/journal/index.php/bc/article/view/1126

Yotebieng, K; Adhikari, S; Kirsch, J; & Kue, J. (2018). Re-imagining Home: resilience

and social networks in Columbus, Ohio. In The Crux of Refugee Resettlement:

Rebuilding Social Networks (Eds: Willems, R; Nelson, A., Röedlach, A.).

Lanham: Lexington Books.

Yotebieng, K. (2017). Health, well-being, and urban refugees and asylum seekers: an

agenda paper. Migration Letters, 14(3), 343-354.

Yotebieng, K; Fokong, K; Yotebieng M. (2017). Depression, retention in care and

uptake of PMTCT service in Kinshasa, The Democratic Republic of Congo: a

prospective cohort. AIDS Care, 29(3), 285-289.

http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09540121.2016.1255708.

Mittal, ML; Bazzi, AR; Rangel, MG; Staines, H; Yotebieng, K; Strathdee, SA; Syvertsen

JL. (2017). “He’s not my pimp”: Toward an understanding of intimate male

partner involvement in female sex work at the Mexico-US border. Culture, Health

and Sexuality, 1-15. http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/13691058.2017.1403651

Yotebieng, K. (2017). Questions of Refugee Deservedness: The anthropologist as an

ally. Society for Urban, National, and Transnational/Global Anthropology

Column in Anthropology News: http://www.anthropology-

news.org/index.php/2017/02/24/questions-of-refugee-deservedness/

Yotebieng, K; Agot, K; Cohen, C; Syvertsen, JL. (2016). A qualitative study of

substance use during pregnancy: Implications for reproductive healthcare in

western Kenya. African Journal of Reproductive Health, 20(4), 51-59.

Yotebieng, K; Syvertsen, JL; Romero-Daza, N. (2016). Introduction to the Special Issue:

Building an Applied Anthropology of Global Public Health. Practicing

Anthropology, 38(4), 3-6.

Kue, J; Pyakurel, S; Yotebieng, K. (2016). Building community-engaged research

partnerships with Bhutanese-Nepali refugees: lessons learned from a community

health needs assessment project. Practicing Anthropology, 38(4), 37-40.

Kanani, K.A.; Sheikh Ali, S.A.; Crilly, J.; Yotebieng, K., Bersani, A.M. (2016). Gap

analysis of leishmaniasis detection, prevention, and response lessons learned for

vectorborne diseases in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. International Journal

of Infectious Diseases, 53(supplement), 154.

Bino, S.; Vasili, A.; Myrseli, T.; Dikolli, E., Mersini, K. ; Alla, L. ; Sulo, J. ; Yotebieng,

K. ; Bersani, A.M. (2016). One Health approach gap analysis of leishmaniasis

detection, prevention, and response in the Republic of Albania. International

Journal of Infectious Diseases, 53(supplement), 151.

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ijid.2016.11.370

Bino, S.; Sheikh Ali, S.A.; Crilly, J. Yotebieng, K.; Bersani, A.M. (2016). Gap analysis

of leishmaniasis detection, prevention, and response lessons learned for

vectorborne diseases in Albania, Jordan, and Pakistan. International Journal of

Infectious Diseases, 53(supplement), 151-152.

https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ijid.2016.11.371

BOOKS

Yotebieng, K. (2018). Hope on the Brinks: Dreams and Nightmares Crossing Borders.

Austin Macauley Publishers, London.

EDITED VOLUMES

xii

Practicing Anthropology Issue: 38.4, October 1, 2016. Anthropology and Global Health

at the Crossroads. Role: Lead Guest Editor (in collaboration with JL Syvertsen

and N Romero-Daza).

TECHNICAL REPORTS AND GUIDES

Steinman, K; Yotebieng, K; Schoeppner, S; Comstock, A; Phelps, L; Wilkinson, D.

(2017). How can Ohio best meet the needs of crime victims? Ohio Attorney

General’s Office Crime Victims Services program.

Connecting Organizations for Regional Disease Surveillance (CORDS). (2016). Gap

Analysis Report: Strengthening the Epidemiological Surveillance, Diagnosis and

Treatment of Visceral and Cutaneous Leishmanaisis in Jordan, Pakistan and

Albania. Role: Contributor and Program Director.

Adhikari, SB; Yotebieng, K; Acharya, JN; Kirsch, J. (2015). Epidemiology of Mental

Health, Suicide and Posttraumatic Stress Disorder among Bhutanese Refugees in

Ohio, 2014. Ohio Department of Mental Health & Addiction Services,

Community Refugee and Immigration Services. Columbus, OH.

Lutheran Community Services Northwest. (2015). Walking Together: A mental health

therapist’s guide to working with refugees. Role: Contributor.

Yotebieng, K; Miller, S. (2014). Approaches to Addressing Mental Health with

Refugees. National Association of Social Workers, Ohio Chapter, XXXVII,

Number 4, July-August newsletter.

xiii

Moumane, D; Yotebieng, K; Kashosi, M; Kabiona, S. (2012). Early Warning Systems in

Central DR of Congo: Saving Lives Through Faster Emergency Response.

Catholic Relief Services publication.

OPINION AND EDITORIALS

Yotebieng, K. (2016). Urban Refugees: The Hidden Crisis. Canadian Association for

Refugee and Forced Migration Studies Blog: http://carfms.org/blog/urban-

refugees-the-hidden-crisis-by-kelly-yotebieng/

Yotebieng, K., Paynter, E., Brehm, H. (2016). Mr. President-elect, you are mistaken: We

welcome refugees at The Ohio State University. Daily Kos, December 8, 2016:

http://www.dailykos.com/stories/2016/12/8/1608919/-Mr-President-Elect-You-

Are-Mistaken-We-Welcome-Refugees-at-The-Ohio-State-University?_=2016-12-

08T16%3A20%3A10.421-08%3A00

Fields of Study

Major Field: Anthropology

xiv

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii

Acknowledgments...... vii

Vita ...... ix

List of Tables ...... xx

List of Figures ...... xxi

Chapter 1: Introduction ...... 1

1.1 Defining hope and aspirations ...... 8

1.2 Aspiring in humanitarian context ...... 9

1.3 Overview of the dissertation ...... 12

Chapter 2: Setting the stage: Research site, Rwandan culture, and the researcher ...... 18

2.1 Urban refugees and agency ...... 18

2.1.1 Resilience: filling the gaps ...... 21

2.2 Refugees in Cameroon ...... 25

2.2.1 Rwandan refugees in Cameroon: Cessation Clauses and gendered

considerations ...... 27

2.3 Rwandan cultural context ...... 35

2.4 Reflections on fieldwork ...... 41

2.4.1 Entering the field in an urban context ...... 46 xv

Chapter 3: Theoretical framework, conceptual model, and literature review ...... 51

3.1 Framing aspirations and marginality ...... 51

3.1.1 Researching hope in the context of anguish ...... 52

3.2 The capacity to aspire in this dissertation ...... 54

3.3 Anthropologies of hope ...... 62

3.3.1 Anthropologies of hope as anthropologies of the future and uncertainty ...... 66

3.3.2 Migration as a gendered locus for hope ...... 72

3.3.3 Religious, moral, and social communities ...... 76

3.4 Conclusion ...... 79

Chapter 4: Methods ...... 81

4.1 Entering the field and designing the dissertation research ...... 81

4.1.1 Household sub-units as the unit of analysis...... 85

4.1.2 Participant selection, sample size, and baseline characteristics ...... 87

4.1.3 Informed consent and study enrollment ...... 90

4.1.4 Participant observation ...... 90

4.1.5 Semi-structured interviews ...... 93

4.1.6 Data analysis ...... 96

4.2 Ethical considerations ...... 99

xvi

Chapter 5: The capacity to aspire in context: research participant characteristics, broad, and sub-themes...... 104

5.1 Socio-demographic characteristics of household members ...... 104

5.2 Main household sketches ...... 108

5.3 Broad themes and sub-themes ...... 112

5.3.1 Sub-theme theme 1: Structural and physical violence against women ...... 113

5.3.2 Sub-theme 2: Faith as a form of social and cultural capital ...... 117

5.3.3 Sub-theme 3: Social networks as a form of social capital ...... 119

Chapter 6: Case Study 1: “A necessary step”: the choice and justification of strategies 125

6.1 Further sub-themes and data from additional households ...... 163

6.2 Discussion ...... 172

Chapter 7: Case Study 2: “I feel like I am becoming a burden”: expectations of sacrifice

...... 183

7.1 Further sub-themes and data from additional households ...... 218

7.2 Discussion ...... 228

Chapter 8: Case Study 3: “Just a matter of time”: hope, waiting, uncertainty ...... 238

8.1 Further sub-themes and data from additional households ...... 280

8.2 Discussion ...... 288

Chapter 9: Moving humanitarianism forward...... 297

xvii

9.1 Leveraging the capacity to aspire framework in the humanitarian sector ...... 297

9.1.1 Broad Finding 1: A nuanced understanding of strategies or health behavior 302

9.1.2 Broad Finding 2: Understanding individual strategies at the household level 307

9.1.3 Broad Finding 3: Shifting the frame of reference to the future ...... 310

9.1.4 Broad Finding 4: Leveraging capital ...... 313

9.2 Implications for applied anthropology ...... 316

9.2.1 Improving humanitarian programming ...... 320

9.2.2 Lessons learned for public health ...... 327

9.3 Broader contributions ...... 331

9.3.1 Dissemination ...... 335

9.4 Study limitations ...... 338

9.5 Future research ...... 341

9.6 Concluding thoughts ...... 345

References ...... 347

Appendix A: Semi-structured interview form (English) ...... 362

Appendix B: Semi-structured interview form (French) ...... 369

Appendix C: Semi-structured interview consent form (English) ...... 377

Appendix D: Semi-structured interview consent form (French) ...... 380

Appendix E: Consent card (English) ...... 383

xviii

Appendix F: Consent card (French) ...... 385

Appendix G: Photo-release form (English) ...... 387

Appendix H: Photo-release form (French) ...... 389

Appendix I: Data management plan and transcription protocol ...... 391

Appendix J: Photographs from fieldwork ...... 400

J1: Faith and religious context ...... 400

J2: Cultural ceremonies and traditions ...... 406

J3: Health ...... 411

J4: Housing ...... 417

J5: Legal precarity ...... 424

J6: Neighborhood stores ...... 426

J7: Coping with waiting ...... 430

J8: Weddings ...... 432

J9: World Refugee Day events ...... 434

xix

List of Tables

Table 1: Household Characteristics ...... 107

Table 2: Sketches of 16 Sub-sampled Households ...... 108

List of Figures

Figure 1: Conceptual Model of the Capacity to Aspire ...... 58

xxi

Chapter 1: Introduction

In May 2016, when I first met Concilie and her mother, Ernestine, they were huddled close together in their one room apartment tucked away in a slum on the outskirts of Yaoundé, the political capital of Cameroon. They were worried about their future as the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees’ (UNHCR) Cessation

Clause was pushing for the end of Rwandan refugee status across Africa. The Cessation

Clause is an obscure and rarely used clause built into the 1951 Geneva Convention on

Refugees which effectively allows the international community to cease to recognize refugees from countries that are deemed safe and stable (United Nations General

Assembly, 1951). Yet, Rwandan refugees established new lives in Yaoundé over the past two decades and have no intention of returning home. During my first of many conversations with Ernestine and Concilie, Ernestine looked over at me, slightly shaking as she barely held back her tears, and lamented that she wished she could just die so that her daughter could be free to live her life without having to deal with Ernestine’s chronic medical problems. She felt she had become a burden to her daughter’s aspirations. When

I first found Ernestine and Concilie, they expressed feeling hopeless, yet over my three years conducting this research, this hope ebbed and flowed as new aspirations stemming from this hope developed, and they undertook new strategies to achieve these aspirations.

Other scholars (Quesada et al., 2011; Castañeda et al., 2015; Dreby, 2015) have well-documented how challenges that include but are not limited to increasingly stringent

immigration policies that strip refugees of their legal status or right to work, such as the

aforementioned Cessation Clause, can also limit the ability for urban refugees to

effectively meet their needs. But a key question remains in exploring this body of

research: how do the socio-cultural and political economic contexts and structures, including legal precarity and other challenges, limit immigrants’ and refugees’ ability to aspire for their desired futures? Kleist and Jansen (2016) aptly underline how in the context of hardship, new forms of hope and aspirations emerge among immigrants and refugees. This dissertation explores these socio-cultural and political economic factors to build an explanatory model that can be used to understand, and ultimately support, refugees’ capacity to aspire (for more on the capacity to aspire framework and conceptual model, see Section 3.2).

In May 2017, during a return visit during my second phase of fieldwork, I learned that Concilie and Ernestine had undertaken a bold strategy towards the future they imagined for Concilie. They had incurred enormous debt and sent Concilie to school in

France through a series of negotiations with intermediaries, taking a clandestine route out of Cameroon. Ernestine, now living in an even smaller space crammed in the back of a small store she started with her debt to meet her most basic needs, was beaming. Via telephone, Concilie informed me that because of some errors in her legal documents, she does not have access to healthcare in France, and cannot work, creating enormous barriers to her ability to excel in her studies. But she did not let her mother on to her struggles. Ernestine, now seemingly brimming with hope, a stark transformation from the

previous year, told me that she asked for God’s forgiveness every day for having asked

for death and that now, finally, her daughter would be able to achieve great things.

I will return to Concilie and Ernestine again in this dissertation. The literature on

the political economy of hope that serves as the foundation for the capacity to aspire

theoretical framework (see Sections 3.1.1 and 3.2) often overlooks micro-level household

level dynamics and socio-cultural considerations related to agency and practice.

Moreover, during my ten-year tenure as a humanitarian professional, I realized our

programs never explicitly asked women or their families about their hopes or aspirations.

Instead, humanitarian priorities are often decided from a home office by someone who

the refugees being considered had likely never met. Furthermore, aspirations are socio-

culturally constructed, yet in the often one-size-fits all humanitarian model, culture is

often not taken into consideration (Appadurai, 2013). I argue, however, that theoretical

frameworks and the conceptual models that underpin humanitarian action must

understand and prioritize sources of hope. Specifically, in this dissertation I use a

conceptual model built from the capacity to aspire theoretical framework (see Section

3.2), which situates hope, the aspirations that stem from hope, and the opportunities and

barriers that lead to different paths towards these aspirations in their cultural and social

ecological context. While social suffering has been the focus of much research and media

attention, understanding hope, aspirations, and the ways in which they inform strategies engaged is critical to serving persons affected by the world’s many crises.

While households are often the unit of analysis for research and decision making in the humanitarian realm, micro-level household dynamics are critical towards

understanding how, why, and for whom household level resources are used (Yotebieng &

Forcone, 2018). Within a household, different household member’s aspirations often

hinge on shared, culturally-constructed, visions of children’s futures, and mothers are

often the first ones to forego their needs in order to allow these desired futures to come to

fruition. Ernestine’s experiences echo sentiments of faith in a better future for their

children repeated by urban refugee mothers. These sentiments substantiate critiques from

the literature within anthropology, psychology, and psychiatry that people who have lived

through trauma cannot manifest hope and cannot have aspirations for the future (Hinton

& Good, 2016).

The gendered disparity on a variety of health and social indicators among

refugees worldwide is well-documented (Behera, 2006; Gurung, 2010; Krieger et al.,

2003). But socio-cultural and political economic contexts, including expectations of

women, their access to various forms of capital and structures, and how this informs

hope, aspirations, and corresponding strategies is often not considered. The inherently

cultural constructions of hope and aspirations in terms of what strategies are expected,

accepted, and available, and whose well-being inside of a household is prioritized over others is visibly absent from much of the growing body of literature on hope and aspirations in the context of hardship. My findings underline how socio-cultural expectations of parenting and motherhood also affect aspirations and practice within households.

Appadurai (2004, 2013) underlines that in many communities around the world, aspirations are communal, and not individual in nature. In my research I found that in the

context of austerity, certain household members’ well-being and aspirations may be prioritized over others, and that it is imperative to understand both socio-cultural contexts and access to capital and various structures (see Figure 1 in Section 3.2) to understand the different paths towards achieving these aspirations. For example, a mother may decide to

reduce her visits to the hospital to follow-up on her blood pressure in order to ensure that her daughter can continue high school. Using sub-units that I observed over the course of my research from within the household as a unit of analysis, I aim to understand how socio-cultural expectations of women and mothers affects their access to capital, informs the strategies available, and ultimately influences the capacity to aspire among Rwandan

Hutu refugee women and their children in Yaoundé, Cameroon.

In this research, I build on Appadurai’s (2004) capacity to aspire framework (see

Section 3.2) to analyze the aspirations and strategies of Rwandan Hutu urban refugee women in Yaoundé, Cameroon through a conceptual model (Figure 1) that explores the relationships between insider aspirations and patterns in strategies and household organization. This dissertation also engages the analytical approach of practice theory to

explore the socio-cultural expectations and norms that affect aspirations, access to

various forms of capital and structures, and how these inform practice. My principal

research question asks: My principal research question asks: How do socio-cultural

contexts and challenges of systemic disempowerment affect women household

members’ capacity to aspire? To answer this question I use ethnographic methods

(semi-structured interviews and participant observation) to examine:

5 a) What are the aspirations for the future of different urban Rwandan refugee

household members? How do these differ or overlap between women and their

children? b) In what ways do practices towards achieving these aspirations change in the

context of challenges? How are these influenced by access to capital and socio-

cultural expectations of women?

I initially posited that these aspirations hinge on the various forms of capital (see

Section 3.1) that informs the ability of urban refugees to carve out a place for themselves in their new homes. Rwandan Hutu refugees have established numerous communities in exile across Africa (Mamdani, 2001). However, in recent years, many Rwandan refugees are in danger of losing international protection, which their refugee status provides, under the purview of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees’ (UNHCR)

Cessation Clause. The Cessation Clause resulted in the majority of Rwandan refugees residing in African countries losing their right to refugee status in December 2017, when the majority (only 143 persons out of nearly 3,000 were allowed to keep their refugee status after this renewal) were given their last 12-month renewal (unofficial statistics repeated by nearly all of the households visited during my participant observation). Many

Rwandan refugees fear that this will push them into a situation of legal precarity in which they become undocumented, and unwelcome, in their country of asylum, Cameroon. It will also affect their access to the various forms of capital that underpin the options available to them in achieving their aspirations.

While the UNHCR negotiated long-term residency permits as an option for

Rwandan refugees after the loss of their refugee status, many refugees lamented that this is not an acceptable solution as they would be forced to engage directly with the

Rwandan government, via the Rwandan Embassy in Cameroon, to ensure their protection and any documents if they wanted or needed to travel outside of the country. Unwilling to return to Rwanda or engage with the Rwandan Embassy in Cameroon, the introduction of potential legal precarity erodes their ability to meet their needs, including accessing education, employment, and healthcare (Mamdani, 2001; Willen et al., 2017). Rwandan

Hutu refugees articulated that they fear returning to Rwanda will mean at best having to start over, and at worst, persecution, citing stories from communications with friends and family that remained in Rwanda. Sacrifices need to be made at the household level, and in line with socio-cultural expectations of mothers, this burden often disproportionately falls on women in the Rwandan community (Cohen et al., 2005; Zraly et al., 2013).

Yet, in the midst of these challenges, during my preliminary research themes of future-orientation, possibilities, and shared aspirations for a better future emerged. This led me to realize that social suffering cannot and should not be examined without taking into consideration the aspirations of research participants. Evidence from this research shows how these aspirations are informed by socio-cultural expectations of women, and inform women’s options and subsequent strategies to achieve them. In my research I found that the aspirations of the majority of women, especially mothers, center on better possible futures for the men and children in the family. In this socio-cultural context, the well-being and futures of men and children were often prioritized over those of women.

My ethnographic research untangles the ways in which socio-cultural and political

economic contexts including access to various forms of capital influence household

aspirations and the strategies urban refugees take to achieve their aspirations.

This research contributes to anthropological scholarship on refugees in novel

ways by engaging a forward thinking temporal frame of analysis rather than casting

refugees, as Brun (2016) and Jansen (2016) argues is the flawed norm in refugee

research, as persons stuck in perpetual liminality. In this way, the experiences of refugees

can also support efforts in building an anthropology of hope, or a focused understanding

of refugees’ efforts to endure and overcome hardship (Eggerman & Panter-Brick, 2010;

Kleinman, 2014; Kleist, 2016a, b). By contributing to an understanding of the complex forms of hope manifest in refugees’ aspirations for the future, the effects of culturally

constructed expectations of women, and urban displacement, this research can inform

humanitarian policy on the best ways to leverage and support, rather than impede,

refugees’ capacity to aspire in urban areas. Importantly, the conceptual model engaged in

this dissertation (see Section 3.2) can be used to identify obstacles towards achieving

these aspirations and in turn identify ways to address these in larger humanitarian

programs.

1.1 Defining hope and aspirations

The terms “hope” and “aspirations” were historically used interchangeably across

scholarly literature in anthropology and psychology. However, in recent years these terms

have been revisited for conceptual clarity (Kleist, 2016b; Ortner, 2016; Robbins, 2013).

Hope is now distinguished in psychology as an affective state that can be measured

(hopefulness) and in anthropology as a culturally defined horizon for the future that is

more difficult to measure (Appadurai, 2004; Bloch, 1986; Hage, 2016; Snyder, 2002). In

line with the anthropological literature, in this research, I define hope as culturally

constructed visions for the future and a belief that these shared visions can be

achieved. Hope is a forward-thinking vision of an ideal future. Yet the forward-thinking

nature of hope is non-linear, and contingent on past experiences, or precedents that have

been set in achieving prior aspirations (Section 3.2 and Figure 1 go into further depth and illustrate the cyclical and interconnected aspects of hope, aspirations, and broader contexts).

Aspirations emerge from hope in the form of a diverse set of goals towards this

more broadly conceived desirable future (Appadurai, 2004). Aspirations include wants,

preferences, choices, and calculations of feasibility (Appadurai, 2004). In line with

Appadurai, I define aspirations as cultural constructions which stem from wider norms and beliefs of what is perceived to be a good life (hope) but are expressed in concrete terms as individual wishes or wants (Appadurai, 2004). Aspirations fit into a broader social life of what is valued, desired, and feasible in a particular political, economic, and social context (Appadurai, 2004; Bok, 2010Sliwinski, 2016).

1.2 Aspiring in humanitarian context

A bourgeoning area of research underlines the productive role of hope as a way to endure and, at times, catalyze and transform aspirations into action to mitigate, challenge, and potentially overcome suffering (Appadurai, 2004; Eggerman & Panter-Brick, 2010;

Kleinman, 2014; Miyazaki, 2004; Robbins, 2013). In this way, research on social

suffering that does not take into consideration hope and aspirations, is incomplete.

Robbins (2013) emphasizes the potential in going beyond the documentation of the

causes and manifestations of suffering, to the ways in which research participants

actively produce aspirations and the ways in which aspirations are translated into acts of

resistance against a backdrop of inequality. Kleist & Jansen (2016) consider hope to be a

potential analytical framework to understand another side of the refugee experience,

including agency (I envision this as aspirations-see Section 3.2) and the ability to overcome hardship (what I refer to as the capacity to aspire-see Section 3.2). Eggerman and Panter-Brick (2010) assert that humanitarian programs need to consider the ways in which hope can be maintained by the populations that they serve as central to any humanitarian program. Aspirations are desired goals for the future. Hope allows for aspirations to be formed and is intricately linked with the perceived ability to plan for and achieve these desired outcomes. I consider hope and aspirations to be intricately linked, insofar as aspirations stem from hope.

It is clear that the framework of social suffering, vulnerability or victimization does not take into adequate consideration the role that proactive choice to determine one’s destiny plays in urban refugees’ varied reasons for and responses to displacement outlined across the literature (Agier, 2011; Cernea & Guggenheim, 1993; Kleist &

Jansen, 2016; Redeker Hepner, 2008; Turner, 2016). The proactive choice to move to urban areas, for example, instead of the confines of the refugee camp, reflect a strategy stemming from aspirations to move to the city in hope of a better life. I started this research recognizing the opportunity to ensure that refugees are not only seen for their

suffering but also for their strategies and the obstacles they face in overcoming

challenging situations and achieving their aspirations. This is not to argue that suffering is

not a central attribute of the refugee experience, but that suffering is not unidimensional

and cannot fully be understood without examining hope and aspirations in their socio-

cultural and political economic context. For example, while hope may be pervasive even

in marginalized populations, the capacity to aspire is not evenly distributed across all

populations (see Section 3.2 for background on the capacity to aspire theoretical

framework and the conceptual model used in this research) (Appadurai, 2004; Bok,

2010).

Aspirations alone are not a guarantee of achieving desired outcomes. Social

inequalities are deeply interconnected with the ability to achieve desired futures. Relevant

to immigrants and refugees worldwide, increasingly exclusionary immigration and

national policies that strip refugees of their legal status or right to work can also limit the

ability for urban refugees to effectively meet their needs. However, Kleist and Jansen

(2016) underline that in this context, rather than losing hope altogether, new forms of

aspirations and future-making emerge. The strategies to achieve these aspirations and the ways in which they are influenced by different political, economic, and socio-cultural realities will be outlined in the context of this dissertation (see Section 3.2 for the overall framework). Building on the extensive work that has been done in anthropology to critique humanitarian paradigms as being stuck in time and disjointed from the needs of program “beneficiaries” (Abramowitz, Marten, & Panter-Brick, 2015; Abramowitz,

Panter-Brick, & Piot, 2015; Beristain, 2008; Brun, 2016; Feldman, 2016), in this research

I aim to understand how, from the perspectives of the “beneficiaries” of these

humanitarian programs, socio-cultural and political economic contexts affect their

capacity to aspire. In turn, this research can inform what aspects of those broader contexts

can be focused on for targeted interventions to support refugees’ capacity to aspire (see

Section 9.2).

1.3 Overview of the dissertation

During my early dissertation research, I found a close-knit community among

Rwandan urban refugees in Yaoundé. Among the sub-units of women and their adult

children that I focused on, aspirations were communal in the sense that individual level

objectives were entangled with concern for other members of their households. As I began to more fully-understand the cultural constructions and related expectations of gender among Rwandan urban refugees in Cameroon, I observed that women and men echoed the expectations that women were expected to make sacrifices in order to secure

better futures for their children or other household members. While it can be argued that

this investment in their children is still in their own interests, given the socio-cultural

expectations of women (for more see Section 2.3), it was never articulated to me in this

way.

Other researchers have also found this gendered expectation of sacrifice among

Rwandan women, especially mothers, and argue that in most of the world women and mothers are expected to be the first to make sacrifices for the well-being of other family

members (Zraly, 2008; Zraly et al., 2013; Cohen et al., 2005). The implications of this

mean that a wide variety of policies that reduce social services or different forms of

assistance, which are often dispensed at the household level, may have further reaching

implications for other persons living in the same household. For example, one of my

research participants noted that she would periodically skip meals or go from house to

house in her neighborhood begging to clean clothes for money in order to ensure that her

children could finish their university degrees. Yet, she dropped everything to stay with

and protect her teenage daughter when neighborhood boys raped her daughter, risking

food insecurity and eviction from their home. Another research participant suggested that

as financial support to her household which was previously provided by the United

Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) was reduced, she would break in

half or skip her blood pressure medicine in order to ensure that her husband was able to

eat, as it was his income that was supporting the education and healthcare needs of her

young children.

Often, coping strategies were intricately balanced with strategies towards aspired better futures for other household members (well-being from the point of view of the

research participant, or their aspirations). The household, often female-headed, emerged

as an important social unit where individuals organized themselves into sub-units in order

to achieve these goals. Yet, within households, especially if men or adult male children

were present, gendered and generational dynamics also emerged as important to

understand in terms of whose voice, concerns, or needs were given priority in these

communal aspirations.

In the case of Rwandan Hutu urban refugees in Yaoundé, Cameroon, in this

dissertation I use the theoretical framework of the capacity to aspire, with aspirations

guiding strategies, to understand strategies towards desired outcomes and the ways in

which the possible strategies are influenced by socio-cultural expectations and political economic contexts (Appadurai, 2004; Bok, 2010; Jansen, 2016; Kleist & Jansen, 2016).

This research aims to understand the capacity to aspire, or the opportunities and

constraints of strategies towards aspirations that household members’ employ in the

fraught landscape of urban displacement (Brun, 2016; Jansen, 2016).

Drawing on anthropological research on urban refugees (Jacobsen & Landau,

2003, Sommers, 2001), resilience (Jacka, 2015; Thomas et al., 2011), and hope (Kleist &

Jansen, 2016; Mason & Pulvirenti, 2013), in this dissertation I explore the aspirations of

Rwandan urban refugee household members, primarily women, the different strategies they undertake to pursue their desired outcomes over time, and how these strategies are influenced by changing stressors, the overall political economic context, and socio- cultural expectations of mothers. Through evidence yielded from participant observation and semi-structured interviews, I further examine the effects of socio-cultural expectations of women household members in prioritizing and acting on aspirations, and how mothers and their children continue to carve out a place for themselves in their community despite formidable challenges that they are facing.

This dissertation research is informed by 12 months of ethnographic fieldwork conducted over three years, between May 2016 and September 2018. Building on my prior 12 years of experience living and working in the Central Africa and Great Lakes regions of Africa as a humanitarian and public health professional, I explore refugee household members’ constructions of aspirations and imagined futures. I pay deliberate

attention to the ways in which the constructions of theses aspirations is influenced by socio-cultural expectations of women. I then examine the productive role of aspirations and the obstacles in the political economic and socio-cultural context that inform

available strategies towards these aspirations.

This was a particularly important time to explore these issues as, at the time of my

dissertation research, immigration policy worldwide was becoming increasingly

exclusionary against refugees and immigrants. Rwandan urban refugees, in particular,

were experiencing a push back to Rwanda through the stripping of their right to keep

their refugee status by the UNHCR’s Cessation Clause. In this context, I analyze how

much and in what ways variations in aspirations and corresponding strategies of

household members can fluctuate and still allow for the continued ability to work towards

their defined outcomes. This includes examining how access to various forms of capital

changes as a result of this changing immigration policy. I chose to focus on sub-units

(usually dyads or triads) within the household level as it is the level where aspirations are

often developed and labor towards achieving them is organized in this socio-cultural and

political economic context. Furthermore, as noted earlier, from an applied perspective the

household is the unit where access to different social services are often determined and

dispensed. Using the sub-units within the household as a unit of analysis also allows for

generational and gendered differences and inequalities to be uncovered.

Using an ethnographic approach enables me to examine the individual agency

(aspirations) including the role of innovation, choice, and the structures within the

political economic context that influence strategies of different household members.

Ethnographic methods used for data collection and analysis “inevitably reveal the fault lines in communities, social movements, and institutions that run along class, race, and generational lines" to avoid reification of entire groups (Ginsburg, 2004, XIV).

Ethnographic methods and approaches to data analyses also aid in untangling the ways in which household members’ strategies work towards desired household outcomes

(Appadurai, 2004; Fabiny, Evans, & Foale, 2014). To clearly define the variations in socio-cultural constructions of aspirations and desired outcomes from my research participants’ points of view (Agar, 2006), I used semi-structured interviews. I employed participant observation guided by the analytical approach (Bourdieu, 1977) of practice theory to examine the practices that linked the aspirations to practice, and observe the different outcomes of these practices over my three years in and out of the field.

Using an ethnographic, open-coding scheme, I conducted data collection and analysis simultaneously. As I identified themes that began emerge from my data, I subsequently conduct theoretical sampling where I focused my data collection on gathering more information on these emerging themes to achieve data saturation (Guest et al., 2006). I then build an explanatory model of how aspirations and strategies towards them are negotiated within households and affected by the broader socio-cultural and political economic contexts. The attention to aspiration, practice, and context in my explanatory model provide a powerful means to examine how urban refugee women adjust their lives to meet their needs in the context of adversity, such as humanitarian policy that they find limiting or unjust, and the role that aspirations and socio-cultural expectations and political economic realities that influence access to various forms of

16 capital play in that process. My hope is that the findings from this research allow researchers and humanitarian professionals not only to better understand what people do when their world is dramatically altered (Jacka, 2015; Weisner, Bradley, & Kilbride,

1997), but also how in the face of trauma or adversity some “stay strong while others crumble” (Kleinman, 2006: 73). This is explored in more depth in Case Study 1 (see

Chapter 6) in the story of Ernestine and Concilie, and the ways in which they moved between hope and hopelessness to catalyze potential change in their lives.

Chapter 2: Setting the stage: Research site, Rwandan culture, and the researcher

2.1 Urban refugees and agency

As astutely noted by Rasmussen and Annan (2009), much of the existing research

on forced migration portrays refugees and their positions of liminality in a frame of

helplessness. Anthropologists and other social scientists (Kovacs, 2015; Malkki, 1992,

1996; Malkki, 1995; Ungar et al., 2013) have argued that this discourse stems from flawed, outsider perceptions of vulnerability and statelessness. But, focusing only on the

“suffering refugee” obscures our ability to recognize the multiple dimensions of the refugee experience, including the collective and individual strength of refugee communities and how these strengths allow displaced persons to reorganize their lives in informal settlements in growing cities of the developing world.

After working with refugees in the humanitarian sector for a decade, I found that this persistent framing of the “suffering and vulnerable refugee” was closely linked with the ways that aid agencies and governments justified their need for funding to respond to humanitarian emergencies. However, I also recognize that there are opportunities to break from this trend, and ensure that refugees are not cast only as suffering victims, but also as persons with aspirations and the ability to move forward, even if this ability is often hindered by the political economic realities in which they live (Yotebieng,

Syvertsen, & Awah, 2018; Yotebieng, 2018a). Agency, or these aspirations, are often focused on overcoming the hindrances and constraints that encompass refugees’ lives. I

argue that fully understanding refugees’ suffering is not possible without examining their

aspirations, the obstacles involved to reach them, and what happens when aspirations are

not reached. In other words, suffering should be cast against the ideal imagined lives of

refugees’ themselves, and not only the points of view humanitarian agencies or

researchers alone. Urban refugees, often living outside of humanitarian assistance zones,

demonstrate the agency and creativity inherent in the adjustments that displaced persons

adopt to live meaningful lives in the context of unequal access to capital and structures

(Bourdieu et al., 1999; Cernea & Guggenheim, 1993). In many countries, including

Cameroon, urban refugees face legal challenges if they are forced to hold special urban

residency permits or are refused refugee status (Frischkorn, 2015; Yotebieng, 2018b). It is important for researchers to explore these strategies to understand how humanitarian programs may learn from displaced persons to better devise strategies to support the growing numbers of urban refugees globally in a respectful and sustainable manner. In this way, the experiences of refugees can support broader efforts in building an anthropology of hope relevant to marginalized populations (Eggerman & Panter-Brick,

2010; Kleist, 2016b). In this way I argue that the conceptual model built in this research

(see Section 3.2) can be applied to broader populations as a way to understand their aspirations and the opportunities and constraints affecting their strategies to achieve these aspirations.

There is an increasing shift of the world’s population settling in urban areas of often resource constrained developing countries (Appadurai, 2013; Yotebieng, 2017c;

Yotebieng, 2018b). This includes over half of the world’s refugees (Prasad et al., 2015;

Thomas et al., 2011; Turner, 2015; United Nations, 2014; 100 Resilient Cities, 2017).

Urban refugees may reflect a population very different, and perhaps more resilient or able to engage risk and bounce back from shocks (for more on resilience see Section 2.1.1), than those who stay in camps (Landau, 2014; Thomas et al., 2011). As largely invisible populations, urban refugees are harder to access, often blending in with their neighbors

(Landau, 2014; Sommers, 2001; Turner, 2015). This blending in urban areas is often intentional and part of the coping process (Malkki, 1995; Sommers, 2001; Turner, 2015).

Frischkorn (2015) underlines how in choosing to move to cities rather than resting in the confines of camps despite, in many cases, strict legal structures that discourage refugees from doing so exemplifies a form of resistance by urban refugees. Living outside of the constraints of the camps can open new opportunities for refugees. Malkki (1995), in her comparative study of camp and town refugees from Burundi in Tanzania, suggested that

“town refugees” tended to experience improvements in their lives over time. However, challenges exist as well, particularly as urban infrastructure in most of the countries where urban refugees are settling is already strained, and the host populations they are settling next to are often struggling to survive (Duyan et al., 2015; Vammen, 2016;

Yotebieng, 2018b).

As interest in refugee issues grows, a turn towards urban refugees is imperative, as it allows us to account for the 60% of the world’s refugee populations in our analyses

(Betts, Bloom, & Weaver, 2015; Yotebieng, 2017c). Humanitarian issues are often left out of studies of urban anthropology and city and regional planning, with the impression that the issues facing the city are perhaps only those related to development. However, it

has become increasingly clear in recent years that the humanitarian-development divide

is nuanced, and in no place is this more pronounced than in studies of urban refugees

(OXFAM, 2013; 100 Resilient Cities, 2017). Many of the issues urban refugees face are

related to the overall context of the city they are living in (unemployment rates, strained

infrastructure, etc.) (100 Resilient Cities, 2017; Yotebieng, forthcoming). While

humanitarians have traditionally focused on rural and refugee camps with an assumption

that those arriving in the city have decided to come because they are less vulnerable and

have the means to leave the camp context, this study questions these simplistic

conclusions (Yotebieng, 2017b). Furthermore, this research examines what we can learn

from the practices and experiences of urban refugees to inform programs that will better support the growing numbers of urban refugees displaced in the developing world

(Landau, 2014).

2.1.1 Resilience: filling the gaps

When I initially began this research, I wanted to focus broadly on resilience

among urban refugees. Specifically, I was interested in how resilience was defined

between humanitarian agencies and among refugee communities, and how some refugees

experienced more resilient outcomes. However, I quickly realized how challenging this

was, as the mere definitions of resilience between humanitarian agencies was often

murky and unclear, and the refugees I engaged with were often resentful of the term,

seeing it as a way to write them off or no longer be responsible for supporting them in

any way (see Yotebieng et al., 2018a). This highlighted to me that something important

was missing that adequately allowed for those labeled as resilient to keep their dignity

21 and define their own ideal outcomes (aspirations). It was this missing element of aspirations and dignity that led me to focus my research more narrowly on hope, aspirations, and practice (see Chapter 3). However, this research can lend important insights to humanitarian agencies and social scientists conducting research and implementing programs focused on resilience, particularly in ensuring the points of view of refugees, their aspirations, and their lived realties within their socio-cultural and political economic contexts are central considerations to resilience building programs.

Resilience, broadly speaking, is a research framework in the psychology and social ecological systems literature that examines how individuals and communities mitigate and cope with challenging situations, and the outcomes of these choices within the complex, interrelated systems in which they live (Berkes & Ross, 2013; Garmezy,

1991; Kimhi, 2014; Lansing, 2010; Obrist et al., 2010; Panter-Brick, 2014; Ungar, 2013).

Folke (2006, 2016) considers resilience akin to a way of thinking about how different human and ecological systems adapt to change, more than a single, cohesive framework.

Adger (2000) goes further to distinguish resilience related to the ability of groups to cope with external stressors resulting from social, political, and environmental change as social resilience in an effort to distinguish the concept from the large climate and ecosystem related discourse. Resilience as a concept, or way of thinking, particularly in the Social-

Ecological systems understanding of resilience allows uncertainty to be an integral part of research (Berkes et al., 2003). Resilience and coping are intricately related and have to be studied together (Ungar, 2012). The conceptual model built from the capacity to aspire theoretical framework that I use in this research (see Section 3.2) is a way to understand

these coping mechanisms. Coping mechanisms, or the strategies that refugees’ employ to

pursue their aspirations and mitigate hardship in their socio-cultural and political economic contexts. Resilience theory allows researchers and policy makers to understand the complex social world and human coping capacity for what we observe it to be, messy and often unpredictable, rather than trying to simplify it for the purpose of our scholarly endeavors. Anthropology’s approach, on top of ensuring that the voices of persons being studied are central, also allows us to understand the history of changes in the system under study, with attention to a particular system in its entirety.

Resilience research has tended to focus on either individual psychological factors

(Betancourt & Khan, 2008; Garmezy, 1991; Rutter, 2012) or larger Social-Ecological systems (Berkes et al., 2003; Folke, 2006; Holling, 1973). Resilience has also become an increasingly pervasive buzz word in the humanitarian realm. The humanitarian realm has pulled on the concept of resilience from a mixture of psychological and Social-Ecological

perspectives in order to try to foster and build resilience in communities affected by

disaster (Lauer, 2012). However, Panter-Brick suggests that many humanitarians are

frustrated with the lack of clarity and guidance in how to effectively implement, monitor,

and evaluate resilience building programs as research has been largely unfocused and not

theoretically grounded (in Southwick, Bonanno, Masten, Panter-Brick, & Yehuda, 2014;

Yotebieng et al., 2018a). Furthermore, Kleist and Jansen (2016) suggest that resilience as

a concept in the humanitarian realm stems from the neoliberal idea that people should be strong enough to rise above their problems despite adverse circumstances and systematic inequality. Having come to the humanitarian realm from social ecological systems

literature that focuses on how people and the environment adapt to change, the

applications of resilience have been used more as a way to understand how persons

endure the challenges and reduce the impact of humanitarian disasters, rather than how

they actively work to change the status quo, imagine, and work towards better futures

(Kleist & Jansen, 2016).

In recent years, anthropologists have argued (Brun, 2016; Eggerman & Panter-

Brick, 2010) that resilience falls short in the omission of notions of hope, aspirations, and the nuanced understanding of coping mechanisms (see above) of populations that are the beneficiaries of resilience building programs. The focus of humanitarian programs is often on the present or addressing immediate, deficit needs. The aforementioned anthropological research argues that this obscures, in most cases, any attempt to understand future or growth needs that keep people going (Brun, 2016; Eggerman &

Panter-Brick, 2010; Snyder, 2002). Yet, despite these pitfalls, there are opportunities to build resilience theory by effectively linking it to the research being done in the context of an anthropology of hope and the future.

Armitage and colleagues (2012) argued that the concept of hope and dignity are often completely missing from resilience theory and programs. Hinton and Good (2016) suggest that resilience building programs can be informed by ethnographic accounts of how individuals are able to recover from trauma on their own. In the context of studying hope, aspirations, and the strategies that they set in motion can shed some light on this area. Another example is Feldman’s (2016) project Campus in Camps which worked with

Palestinian refugees to foster a practice of thinking about the future and devising

strategies to attain it, rather than imposing a framework of protracted liminality on

refugees living in camps. Brun (2016) echoes the critical importance of persons who have

undergone forced displacement to be able to define their own futures, rather than have

humanitarian programs and policies hand them to them. Appadurai (2013) also works

with Slum Dwellers International to involve slum-dwelling populations in research in the context of an anthropology of the future and reflect on the possibilities of changing their present circumstances through this research and advocacy. Crapanzano (2003), like

Eggerman and Panter-Brick (2010) argues that the capacity of individuals or communities to maintain hope is an important component of their resilience. As it stands, resilience falls short as a concept but can be improved by adding futurist orientations of hope and paying attention to the ways in which socio-cultural expectations of different persons in a society, capital and structures in the political economic context affect options of strategies towards aspirations. A focus on hope and aspirations helps us understand what refugees anguish for, or are striving towards.

2.2 Refugees in Cameroon

Yaoundé, Cameroon is a growing urban center in a lower-middle income country

experiencing both demographic transition and an influx of refugees and immigrants,

allowing findings from this research to be applicable to other cities in Africa and the

developing world (Weisner et al., 1997). Yaoundé is estimated to be growing at a rate of

5% each year, with growth primarily occurring in areas already struggling with adequate

access to electricity, water, sanitation, and other city services (UN Habitat, 2015; Sikod,

2001). Despite a large number of Cameroonians already struggling to meet their basic

25 needs, the country continues to host growing numbers of refugees from surrounding countries (Church World Service, 2013; Mattheisen, 2012; Walbert, 2014). Similar to the situation in many countries of the world, increasing numbers of these refugees are skipping the traditional camp context, which represents, to some, less opportunity for livelihoods with the potential to increase their vulnerability. They, therefore, choose to relocate to cities where they see more and better livelihood opportunities (Rainbird, 2014;

Tibaijuka, 2010). According to the most recent published refugee statistics, at the end of

2017, there were an estimated 598,570 refugees, internally displaced persons, and asylum seekers in Cameroon, of which over 22,000 are estimated to live in urban areas (UNHCR,

2018). The urban statistics vary widely. This is due, in part, to the transition of Refugee

Status Determination from UNHCR to the Government which has been underway since

2014 and was effectively completed in 2016.

Cameroon is a signatory to the 1951 Convention relating to the Status of

Refugees, the 1967 Protocol, and the 1969 OAU Convention Governing the Specific

Aspects of Refugee Problems in Africa. Cameroon also adopted Law N 2005/006 on July

27, 2015, which further articulated the specific rights of refugees living in Cameroon

(Church World Service, 2013). In addition to ensuring that refugees abide by the same laws applicable to Cameroonian citizens, this law allows for freedom of religion, the right to own property, the right to associate, the right to sue, the right to work, the right to government issue identity documents, and the right to citizenship, if they decide to go that route. Additionally, Cameroon grants prima facie status to individuals arriving in the territory, requesting that they make their request for asylum within 15 days of entry

(Mattheisen, 2012). However, during my fieldwork, I heard multiple complaints across refugee communities that these realities only existed on paper, and that harassment and

access to basic human rights and services, challenges that many Cameroonians face as

well, are often complicated by their refugee status.

Refugees in Cameroon have typically settled on their own, with camps cropping

up only since 2013 with the influx of refugees from Nigeria and the Central African

Republic, combined with fears of terrorism and security threats infiltrating the population

(UNHCR, 2015a, b, 2018). Rwandan and Chadian refugees were some of the first to

arrive in relatively large numbers to urban areas in Cameroon, coming in different waves

over the past two decades (UNHCR, 2015a; Walbert, 2014).

2.2.1 Rwandan refugees in Cameroon: Cessation Clauses and gendered

considerations

Rwandan Hutu refugees began arriving in Yaoundé in 1994. Both Mattheisen

(2012) and Yotebieng (2017a) document how in their conversations with other refugee communities, host populations, and service providers, Rwandan refugees are often referred to as a successful example of integration and resilience. This perception starkly contrasts Mamdani’s description of Rwandans in exile across Africa as an extremely volatile community (Mamdani, 2001). In recent years, many Rwandan refugees are in danger of losing international protection, which their refugee status provides, under the purview of the UNHCR’s Cessation Clause. While Cessation Clauses are not common,

they have been invoked in other cases, mostly in Africa (Church World Service, 2013;

Hovil and Lomo, 2015; Karuhanga, 2015; Kuch, 2016; Omata, 2016; Tuyishime, 2011).

Unwilling to return to Rwanda, many in the Rwandan urban refugee community feel that

the loss of their legal status may be a tipping point, or something that can result in eroded

well-being of households in their community (IRIN, 2012). As discussed in Chapter 1,

Rwandan Hutu refugees are generally fearful of potential persecution and discrimination if they return (or travel for the first time, for those born in exile) to Rwanda under the current regime.

When I first arrived in Cameroon to begin my fieldwork in 2016, the security situation across the country was crumbling. In the Far North regions, and along the border with Nigeria, specialized security forces with support of the United States

Government among other partners were being reinforced to combat increasing waves of terrorist activity from Boko Haram. At the same time, the two Anglophone regions of the country, the Northwest and Southwest, were beginning to organize themselves into a separatist movement which they coined Ambazonia. Over the course of the three years of my fieldwork, the security crises across the country worsened, with increasing reports of state-sponsored violence against separatist regions, as well as counter-violence from vigilante groups (Human Rights Watch, 2018; International Crisis Group, 2018). These issues were only exacerbated by the 2018 Presidential elections looming on the horizon, where the sitting president of 36 years announced his intention to run again, and subsequently won. Rumors, suspicion, and fear were rife among the general population.

Refugees I worked with also voiced concern, whispering to me about how this reminded them of the days, weeks, or years leading up to the events that caused them to eventually have to flee. They also complained that Cameroon had become increasingly challenging

to live in as its populations dealt with the repercussions of these multiple crises, and a

climate of xenophobia seemed to be increasing.

Despite over a decade of working and returning to Cameroon, Yaoundé seemed

entirely new to me. The crisis was palpable. In the past, while petty crime was always a

concern to be aware of, other concerns over security were never on my mind. However,

now my movement outside of the city was extremely restricted, and I was cautioned by

local police officers and diplomats to exercise extreme caution in taxis and some of the informal settlements around town. Yet, taxis were my primary mode of transportation, and many of the refugees that I worked with over the three years lived scattered across these informal settlements. In order to illustrate some of the aspects of the lives of the

refugees I worked with, and provide some visual examples of culture and faith which

emerges as an important theme over the course of this dissertation (see Chapters 6-9), I

included select photographs from my fieldwork in Appendix J.

Yaoundé is called the town of “7 hills.” The hills often helped when I got lost. If I could find my way to the top of one of the city’s undulating hilltops, it was easy to find reference points via some of the taller buildings in the center of the city. Surrounding the city center, the city spread out into sprawling suburbs and informal settlements, and the roads, paved in the city center and along a few principle axes, were riddled with potholes or simply unpaved in most of the suburbs outside of downtown. Sidewalks were few and far between, and despite some recent efforts to install waste cans and dumpsters along some of the roads, particularly in city center, the streets were lined with trash, and in densely populated areas, often reeked of urine as much of the population does not have

access to indoor plumbing. Yet, despite this, I always find Yaoundé to also be so much

more beautiful than many of the other African cities that I lived and worked in. Much of

the green space was preserved, with parks, trees, grass, and small gardens with corn,

cassava, and other crops growing scattered along the road. While many of the trees had

been cut in the densely populated areas of the city, on the outskirts it was easy to

remember that in Cameroon, you were still in the heart of the Congo Basin Forest, known

as the world’s “second set of lungs.”

Initially, I had wanted to include a geospatial component to my research, to see

how perhaps living in certain neighborhoods and distance from some of the green space

and gardens, affected the mental health and livelihoods of urban refugees. I also initially

assumed that I would find different urban refugee communities congregated together in

different parts of town. However, as I began to visit the homes of urban refugees from

Chad, the Central African Republic, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and Rwanda

during my first few weeks of fieldwork, I quickly realized that this was anything but the

case. As most of the refugees I met spoke French or other Cameroonian languages, they

were able to integrate into different neighborhoods across Yaoundé quickly. Yet while

many urban refugees described their intentions of living in the city as “blending-in” or

“not being seen,” Cameroonians seemed apt in picking out the “strangers” in their

communities.

There is a significant shortage of housing in Yaoundé, even within communities there were not hosting large numbers of refugees. Access to housing depended on the economic capital available, as well as where refugees could find landlords that would

allow for a refugee tenant, and broader social networks in terms of hearing about

different housing options that were available.

All of the refugees I worked with over the course of this dissertation, no matter

how long they had been living in Cameroon, were renting. Chadian and Congolese

refugees often lived closer to downtown, scattered within densely populated urban slums.

From here, they had easier access to downtown where many worked as security guards or

hawking goods to drivers of passing cars, including peanuts and candy. Many Central

Africans lived in unfinished buildings, or chantiers in sprawling neighborhoods on the

outskirts of town where they negotiated with landlords to stay there in turn for helping

with small construction, and keeping the chantier safe and free from theft until the house was finished. Once the homes were complete, they would have to search again for other unfinished buildings elsewhere. The Rwandans, despite being a smaller community who had also been in Cameroon for almost as long as the Chadians, were scattered across the city in suburbs and informal settlements. Most of their houses did not have running water, and usually the sleeping situations included at least three persons sleeping on a mattress on the ground in a corner of a main room separated from what became a makeshift living room or kitchen by a bed sheet hung from the ceiling. The main rooms were often decorated with some photographs from back home, religious sayings or statues, and a small stack of pots and pans used for cooking next to small gas or kerosene stoves and a couple of plastic chairs. While the homes were mostly modest, the Rwandan refugees I worked with reiterated that they took great pride in making sure there was at least a small, clean salon area where they could receive visitors like myself. They lamented,

however, that because they organized their homes in this way rather than living in

unfinished homes and laying on mats on the ground, the UNHCR and other social service

agencies often considered them to be “better-off” than other refugees, and they received less support because of it. Indeed, there was a sentiment that refugees were somehow in competition for limited resources that was echoed across many of the Rwandan urban refugee households that I worked with.

Many of the Rwandan refugees either opened or worked in other Rwandan-own

small stores in the suburbs they lived in where they sold basic household staples such as

soap, bread, oil, toothbrushes, and toilet paper. Many of these stores were either operating

on credit, or the refugees were employees of Rwandan businessmen. Most of the

Rwandan businessmen, even if they had come to Cameroon to flee Rwanda at the same

time, did not have refugee status as they claimed it was a “nuisance” to have to deal with

the UNHCR and they preferred to buy residency permits instead. I quickly recognized

that I needed to refocus my research on one community, as between communities

comparisons would be inaccurate. Even within communities, there seemed to be so much

variation that I would further need to hone in on a particular sub-set of a community. This

ended up being women from both male and female-headed households from Rwanda,

with few exceptions. A host of gendered and cultural realities (see Section 2.3 below),

including it being seen as inappropriate for me, a married woman, to be spending

significant time with the married men from the households I was working with, led to my heavy focus on women and children (over the age of 18) household members in my sampled households.

I found an organized community among the Rwandans, but, as noted above, there was considerable variation within the community when it came to socioeconomic status and household composition. The Rwandan community in Yaoundé had a formal, legally registered community organization and held meetings on a regular basis (monthly, unless significant issues such as the Cessation Clause called for more frequent meetings). At these meetings community members discussed their grievances and agreed on an overall position, and the leaders of the organization (elected every 2 years) would bring these issues up to the relevant authorities or identify potential solutions (i.e. the UNHCR, the police, and the courts). From my time spent with various Rwandan refugee households over the course of this research, I was also told by the majority of them that there were multiple sub-groups within the community. These sub-groups were often created along socio-economic lines, but there were also groups of persons who had legal status versus those who did not, groups that had arrived to Cameroon more recently after first being displaced in the Central African Republic, groups of widows, groups of young women, wives of businessmen, etc. I also learned from the households that I worked with that there was often times distrust between these different groups.

A small group that considered themselves the “elite group” was composed of middle-class businessmen who did not want to associate with the rest of the refugee community. These individuals, as noted above, often purchased residence permits for themselves and their families rather than dealing with what they considered to be the long waits and wasted time with the UNHCR to maintain refugee status. Many of the members of this small group owned several stores across the cities that other Rwandan refugees

from lower socio-economic groups worked in, and some had even built large apartment

complexes on the outskirts of the city. This group was harder to access for my research as

they maintained a high-level of distrust of foreigners. While they would receive me in

their stores and homes, they always made it clear that they did not want to share very

much about their lives with an American researcher.

However, the majority of the Rwandan urban refugee community in Yaoundé

consisted of lower income households led either by women, often widows, or adult sons.

These are the households that I focused on in my research because a) they represented the

majority of Rwandan urban refugees in Yaoundé, b) they were more accessible in terms

of household members being interested and open to speaking with me about their

experiences, aspirations, and allowing me to spend time in their households, and c) while

there was variation in aspirations, practice, and access to capital across households, there

was enough overlap in the socio-cultural and political economic structures that affected

their lives that I was able to identify patterns in my data.

Many households that I worked with, while lamenting the diminishing of social services, expressed that the least they expected from the UNHCR was protection from persecution which their refugee status provides. Over the course of my fieldwork, I learned of, through interviews and participant observations, strategies that refugees would engage, including potential illegal immigration to the U.S. and Europe, in pursuit of better lives for their families. Very few urban refugees seemed to think that Rwanda offered them a bright future. They spoke in detail of their plans to be resettled in third countries from Cameroon, to build or expand the businesses they had started in

Cameroon, and of their children growing up with more options in Cameroon, in hopes

that the current crisis in the country would blow over and not result in them having to flee

again. They chose to stay in Cameroon as urban refugees despite being pushed away by

the Cessation Clause. Staying in Cameroon allowed for the households I engaged with to

imagine relatively prosperous futures, something that was unfathomable back in Rwanda.

This to me, was significant. Despite legal precarity and the crumbling security situation

in Cameroon, they chose the condition that provided them with relatively more hope, or

that allowed them to see their aspirations as more feasible, staying in Cameroon.

2.3 Rwandan cultural context

The majority of Rwandan refugees I engaged with over the course of this research had been in Cameroon for at least 10 years, and often 20 or more (including young persons who were born and raised in Cameroon but not given nationality as Cameroon does not issue nationality automatically at birth to foreigners). However, they still held on to their language, religion, and other cultural traditions, while adopting some of their host community as well. As Cameroon, and Yaoundé, are ethnically diverse with over 250 cultural groups and languages across the country, I will not go into detail here into

Cameroonian culture. However, as it pertains to socio-cultural context and women’s roles and expectations, here I outline some of the foundations of Rwandan cultural traditions.

Rwandan people, referred to in their language (Kinyarwanda) as Banyarwanda, share a language, history, and cultural identity (Longman, 1999; Mamdani, 2001, 2002).

Banyarwanda live not only in modern day Rwanda, but in neighboring countries including Uganda and the Democratic Republic of Congo. The Banyarwanda identify

35 along the lives of three broad clans, the Hutu, the Tutsi, and the Twa. While the genocide happened along what is often referred to as “ethnic” lines, prominent Rwanda scholars

(see for example Kimonyo et al., 2004; Mamdani, 2001; Newbury, 1980) argue that Hutu and Tutsi are more “political” and not “ethnic” categories that came about during colonial times. There are no major cultural differences between Hutu and Tutsi populations, but rather, their differences are often explained in regards to historical origin stories that were recreated during colonial periods (Freedman, 1984). Prior to colonial times, the Hutu were thought to be associated with “land” and led a mainly agrarian lifestyle, while the

Tutsi were associated with “cattle” and the minority Twa (pygmy) group with “forests.”

These categories were further galvanized and transformed into distinct, competing identities in a divide and conquer strategy by the Germans followed by the Belgians (Des

Forges, 1999; Freedman, 1984; Mamdani, 2001; Prunier, 1995). For this reason, much of the literature on Rwandan traditions and culture do not distinguish between the Hutu and

Tutsi.

In pre-colonial times, it is widely thought that approximately 25 kingdoms comprised today’s Rwanda since the 8th century (Vansina, 1962). Seventeen of these kingdoms were documented by d’Hertefelt (1971) of being characterized by patrilineal clan identity. Newbury (1998) also emphasized that pre-colonial Rwanda was held in unity through the practice of largescale cultural rituals including song and dance which are still observed in Rwandan communities across the world today.

Given the patrilineal nature of traditional Rwandan society, relationships between men were key forms of social capital referred to in Kinyarwanda as ubuhake and umeheto

(Newbury, 1978; Prunier, 1995). While there is some disagreement as to the symbolic

differences between these two practices, umeheto is generally have thought to be less

exploitive, while ubuhake has been attributed by many Hutus as the beginning of political

inequalities between Hutu and Tusis and as a mechanism to make indentured servants of

Hutus (Mamdani, 2001). To this day these tradition carries on and can be observed in the

practices within and between Rwandan social networks. This tradition provided

important access to social and economic capital that could allow upward mobility and

entrance into more elite groups among Rwandan men.

Banyarwanda have a semi-formal caste system. However, unlike other areas of

the world, there is possible movement between classes, although it requires access to

either significant economic capital, or social capital (knowing and working with the right

people) (Freedman, 1984; Longman, 1999). These groups are generally referred to as the

“elite” and the “common people” in daily parlance by Rwandans, and was something that

I observed in the organization of the Rwandan refugee community in Cameroon (see

Section 2.2.1 above).

Religion is a central part of the cultural and social identify of most Rwandans

today. This includes Rwandan refugees and other members of the Rwandan diaspora

living outside of the country. While Rwanda during colonial times prior to the 1994

genocide was predominately Catholic, today many persons have distanced themselves

from the perceived role of the Catholic Church in Rwanda’s divisive colonial history and

have joined protestant churches including Pentecostals and Anglicans. The Belgians,

during their colonial rule, were thought to have used the Catholic Church in addition to

administrative means to purport Tutsi superiority and sow the seeds for the extreme

violence witnessed in the post-colonial years (Hintjens, 1999; Linden & Linden, 1977).

Christianity is thought to have widely influenced gender norms of Rwandans globally

(Uwineza & Pearson, 2009).

In terms of gender norms, women’s status is widely thought to have degraded during colonial times. Women were traditionally thought to hold complementary positions with men (Uwineza and Pearson, 2009). In pre-colonial times, while men still held most prominent positions of power, women did hold important economic and traditional power (particularly the power of the queen). As a result of the eroded status of women during the colonial period, Rwandan women today face stark challenges in accessing and inheriting land and property and have greatly diminished economic power

(Mamdani, 2001, 2002; Longman, 1999). Among Rwandan Hutus agricultural work is traditionally split between men and women, with men clearing and preparing the land, and women being the primary source of daily farm labor, including planting, weeding, and harvesting (Freedman, 1984; Longman, 1999). When families own livestock, men and boys take the primary responsibility in raising and watching over them. Within the household it is expected that while men will work outside of the house and be the primary breadwinner, women’s primary household responsibilities are to raise children, prepare food, and follow-up on any other necessary household cleaning. Formal employment outside of the home is usually reserved for men and not traditionally accepted or common for Rwandan women. However, women often traditionally engage in informal trade activities to supplement household income (Freedman, 1984; Longman, 1999).

Zraly (2008) underlines that there are strict conservative notions of girlhood and

womanhood in traditional Rwandan society. This is linked with what Baines (2003)

argues is the symbolic relationship between women and the purity of Rwanda. Marriage

is central, and bearing children out of wed-lock was traditionally considered a crime

punishable by death. Traditionally, girls were expected to remain virgins until they were

married, and became women through marriage and childbearing. For this reason, the high

prevalence of sexual violence that occurred in Rwanda in the years leading up to the

genocide, as well as during the genocide and in Zaire when many Rwandan Hutu

refugees were fleeing was particularly complicated. Girls that were raped were

considered to be something in between a girl and a woman, and at times young girls

would marry men who raped them as a way to allow her to move into womanhood

without a disruption (Zraly, 2008). Women are widely considered to be the property of their husbands, and after a spouse’s death it is expected that the widow will become the property of his brother (Uwineza & Pearson, 2009). Spousal violence is also reportedly common in modern day Rwandan households (Thomson, 2013). Motherhood is often performed based on the expectations outlined above of a woman to be pure, the primary person responsible for successfully raising her children, cooking, and maintaining the

household (Freedman, 1984; Longman, 1999; Zraly, 2008). However, as Rwandan

women living in and outside of Rwanda have accessed higher levels of education and

working outside the home in recent years, these traditional norms are changing.

Children a symbol of wealth and prosperity for Rwandans, and for this reason

Rwandan families are typically quite large. Traditionally families lived within a single-

39 nuclear family structure surrounded by a barrier (fence or trees) (LeMarchand, 1970).

While polygamy is no longer widely practiced in Rwanda as it was discouraged during colonial times, in the 1960s and earlier when it was practiced each wife, and elderly parent if applicable, had their own single unit within a compound. When a man married a wife, following patrilineal tradition, she would come to live with him near his family, although often times her family would also be in close proximity. Sons are typically the only family members entitled to their father’s inheritance after his death (Freedman,

1994; Longman, 1999). While women traditionally bore the primary responsibility for rearing children as noted above, her oldest brother was responsible for teaching her children their culture and traditions so they can be passed on from generation to generation (Freedman, 1984).

However, it is important to understand this cultural context in a nuanced way.

War, genocide, violence, and forced migration have also altered the structures and traditions of Rwandan Hutu refugees in Cameroon in different ways. Castañeda et al.

(2015) suggest when studying migrants, we need to be mindful that migration often changes socio-cultural structures and traditions. This is amplified when migration is forced and unplanned, as is the case for refugees (Carswell, Blackburn, & Barker, 2011;

Willen et al., 2017; Yotebieng, 2017c). I observed that prominent middle-aged men in the community often play the traditional role of the elder brother of the mother as many families are separated geographically and many men died or were jailed. These men provide free classes on Rwandan traditional dance, songs, ceremonies, dress, and language to youth, many of whom either left Rwanda when they were very young, or

were born outside of Rwanda after their parents had already become refugees. Many of

the Rwandan urban refugee households are led by women. Where families are relatively

intact, they try to live together or near each other, particularly where elderly women will

live with their adult sons. However, this is often not the case and many of the Rwandan

urban refugees instead strategically forge relationships with different households or

community members that can provide them social, emotional, or capital support. Many of

the refugees I worked with articulated that if they were back home, some of the elite

Rwandans that helped them with employment in their stores across the cities would

probably not be in the same social circles as them. But as they are all living in exile

together, relationships are forged where they previously would have not existed.

2.4 Reflections on fieldwork

The distinction between emic (insider) and etic (outsider) knowledge, and to what extent an anthropologist has to be an insider or outsider to garner this knowledge, is an area of continuing debate within anthropology (Headland, Pike, & Harris, 1990).

However, it is perhaps more appropriate to think about different perceptions and priorities based on a multitude of factors including culture and lived experience as points of view in line with Agar (2006). Thinking about perceptions as different points of view allows for multiple points of view rather than an inaccurate portrayal of a reified binary insider or outsider perspective. This debate includes the legitimacy of anthropological knowledge coming from insiders or partial insiders, as well as debate on what constitutes an insider in the first place (Abu-Lughod, 1991; Awah, 2017; Ginsburg, 2004; Narayan,

1993). After all, following many years in school and time away from one’s community, a

41 new distance can be created. Other anthropologists have written reflections on long-term fieldwork at a single site over many years and multiple trips, and the ways the different societal roles that both the researcher and their informants take on (including from student to professor, or from single to married with children) changes their relationships over time (Austin, 2015; Awah, 2017).

While I am not a Cameroonian, a Rwandan, or a refugee, I noticed considerable reflections in my early field journal entries that reflected on my role in coming back to the field as an anthropologist. This was particularly poignant as I had worked in

Cameroon initially as a Peace Corps volunteer, returned as a humanitarian worker for 3 years, and continued to cover Cameroon as a humanitarian professional based in the regional office of a non-governmental organization based in the Democratic Republic of

Congo for an additional 5 years. Over this time, I had transitioned from a young single woman, to a woman married to a Cameroonian intellectual, and now mother of two children. My insider-outsider musings are reflected in an excerpt from June 6, 2016, during the second month of the first phase of my dissertation research:

(Excerpt from Yotebieng fieldnotes): So here I am, I suppose I always took that

initial training as an anthropologist, and the influence from the anthropologists

who oversaw my work during my MPH with me in my work. Especially in my

interest in deeper questions related to what fundamentally drove our humanitarian

work. To what extent we were co-opting ideas or even words, like “resilience”

from other sectors, and transplanting them on people before deciding what exactly

they meant. But when I first came (to Cameroon) in 2004, I was a true outsider. A

Peace Corps volunteer who had to look Cameroon up on the map to be sure of where I was going. Someone whose language skills were extremely low and was forced to observe, whether I liked it or not, to learn how to make do in my new home. And I remember early on meeting students who were studying Medical

Anthropology at University of Yaoundé I and being really intrigued. Thinking, I want to meet their teachers! And here I am, working with one of the two people who they were likely working with! Dr. Paschal Awah has been really helpful to me. I kept thinking in the back of my head, and when we read pieces by Abu-

Lughod and others about sort of being an insider-outsider. But then, I thought, maybe that is pushing it, can I really claim to be even a little Cameroonian? I certainly wasn’t born or raised there, until I was 21 or 22, I had no idea I would even spend time here! And now, after considerable time in a few places since then, and marriage, and kids, I can say I have many profound relationships with

Cameroon and Cameroonians, but does it make me an insider-outsider? I suppose in some ways in Yaoundé, yes it does. But in others, not as much. I just keep wondering how this hat, and my relationships, will influence my work… Paschal noted to me that he did his research between Yaoundé and Bafut as an urban anthropologist during his Ph.D. and that he would share it with me. In a way, he was validating my feeling of me being an insider-outsider, but he also drew attention to another area where I am an insider-outsider, that as a humanitarian and an anthropologist. I am learning to be the latter, but I have been the former perhaps since high school when I started working with NGOs. Can I really ever

shake it? Do I have to? Do I want to? I am not sure…

Reflections like the above in my fieldnotes demonstrated that my own point of view and positionality had changed over time as my lived experience and professional training and experience accumulated. I first arrived in Cameroon in 2004 as a Peace

Corps volunteer, fresh after completing my Master’s in Public Health. After that initial

2.5 years, I continued working in Cameroon on refugee and public health issues for another 3 years and remained in the region (primarily the Democratic Republic of Congo) for five years afterward. I was also often regarded by Cameroonian friends, counterparts, and refugees as “quasi-Cameroonian” given that I spoke French like a Cameroonian, spoke another Cameroonian language, and had married a Cameroonian and, was often immersed in life with my family-in-law. This straddled my identity as a former humanitarian, a “quasi-Cameroonian,” as well as a foreigner in Cameroon resulted in partial overlapping identities with the humanitarian professionals whom I hoped to reach with my research, the Cameroonian host community, and the refugees, who were also outsiders in Cameroon. I also identified with many of the women I was working with, because of previous life experiences including exposure to violence, and the stress of managing motherhood with a host of other demands. Furthermore, I found that over time,

I was more and more integrated with the refugee community. For example, in 2016 when

I started my fieldwork I got most of my information on events and ongoings related to the

World Refugee Day event from the UNHCR. However, in 2017 and especially in 2018, I was actively involved in meetings led by the refugee community to plan the event and

complain about the limited means to do anything meaningful. This provided me an

entirely different perspective than I had received from the UNHCR, who was rather

proud of the event, which seemed to be more of a burden and source of complaints on the

part of the refugee community.

That said, the notion of being a total insider was erroneous, as I recognize my

privilege in not being a refugee. My trips to Cameroon are always temporary. I can leave

at any moment. This is something that many of my research participants and interlocutors

explicitly described to me as a dream, to be able to move freely, to relocate to the United

States, or for their stay in Cameroon to only be temporary with brighter horizons coming

next. Mindful of this, I tried to be as transparent as possible with my research

participants, continually reminding them of the purpose of my time in Cameroon, and

also continuously reflected on how I could somehow use my research and my position of

power and privilege to give back, the little that I could (Smith, 2016). At times, this

included contacting the UNHCR in situations that seemed dire, or where something

seemed to have gone awry in communications between my research participants and the

humanitarian agencies they were receiving or requesting services from. At other times, it

involved bringing up health or security issues that I thought were being neglected to the

humanitarian agencies. And finally, at times it meant providing information on services I

learned about that my research participants did not seem to know about, but may be of

interest, to my research participants. Periodically I even accompanied research

participants to these services. While this may seem to some as transgressions that led me to override my position as a researcher, other anthropologists (Smith, 2016) have argued

45 that anthropologists working on applied issues have multiple roles, including playing the part of advocate when needed. Not to mention, my impetus to return and study these questions in the first place stemmed from my desire to understand better, and to improve humanitarian practice and ultimately the quality of life of my research participants. While

I identify as an anthropologist, I also care deeply about the issues that I am researching, and in line with Smith (2016), I see it as an obligation to use my relative power and connections when I can to address a problem that is brought up to me by my research participants. This is particularly true in cases where they explicitly ask for my support for one of their perceived needs.

2.4.1 Entering the field in an urban context

While traditional anthropological fieldwork has often been conducted in rural areas, there is an increasing trend of anthropologists shifting their attention to urban areas, a trend that is justifiable given the increasing proportion of the world’s population living in cities globally (Nonini, 2014). Yet, anthropologists are still grappling with the best ways to be a participant-observer in the city (Nonini, 2014; Pelling, 2003). Indeed, our signature method can be challenging, especially when the populations we are working with are spatially dispersed across cities. However, I readily accepted this challenge as a way to demonstrate how anthropologists can contribute to our understanding of the ways in which different populations, including refugees, live, hope, aspire, and work towards achieving their aspirations in cities globally. But, given the reality of lives in cities, where people are often outside of the house, my participant observation could rarely be situations where I just dropped by and spent the day in

someone’s home. Rather, I had to call them and coordinate when they would be home,

and be ready to accompany them to bustling markets, their stores or workplaces, and even

at times doctors appointments or meetings at the UNHCR if they asked me to come with

them.

In the context of urban refugees in Cameroon, the majority of research and

humanitarian attention has focused on Central African refugees. Central African urban

refugees are newer, their needs are enormous, and there are more of them than refugees from other countries. I initially planned on working with Central African refugees as well with a very specific focus on mental health resilience. However, before I traveled to

Yaoundé, an old friend put me in touch with her cousin who was a Rwandan refugee living and working in Cameroon. While visiting Central African, Chadian, and Congolese households and trying to wrap my head around how to explore questions of hope and aspirations among these populations, particularly Central Africans who were relatively new to Cameroon, I called my friend’s cousin to get his perspective as he had been in

Cameroon for a long time. This phone call changed the entire trajectory of my dissertation to a more specific focus on Rwandan refugees, but a broader focus on the emotional, social, and political determinants of their overall well-being.

It turned out my friend’s cousin was a leader in the Rwandan refugee community at the time I met him, and from the very first meeting, he emphasized that they were being ignored and unjustly pushed back to Rwanda. Without asking me directly to focus on Rwandan refugees instead of Central Africans, he scheduled a meeting that was intended to be a focus group but ended up being a small living room overflowing with 18

Rwandan refugee women who were eager to talk with me. As an anthropologist and

researcher, these Rwandan refugees wanted me to try and highlight and give a voice to

what they felt was their dire and neglected situation. Yet, despite all the stress, they still

seemed to maintain a high degree of hope that things could work out. They spoke of advocacy they were doing in Cameroon and internationally to lobby for their right to remain refugees, as well as the strategies they were implementing in order to stay in

Cameroon. That initial interest, support, willingness, and eagerness to welcome me into their community on the part of the Rwandans effectively pulled me into their community.

I also realized that for the purposes of my research question, it made more sense to focus on a community that had been in Cameroon longer and had developed stronger social networks within different refugee and Cameroonian communities, as a way to better understand their efforts towards achieving their aspirations and the ways in which their long-standing in the country may influence their capital and connectedness to various structures.

However, when I brought up my interest in shifting my focus to Rwandan refugees from Central Africans, the humanitarian professionals often expressed that they felt the Rwandans were “a nuisance” and did not need any support. Furthermore, as

Hutus, they were demonized by other refugee communities, Cameroonian government officials, and even humanitarian professionals. This sentiment was even reflected in some of my background research which portrayed Hutus in simple terms as perpetrators of genocide (Sharlach, 1999), even though other texts clearly documented the more nuanced

48 reality and human rights abuses on both sides (Buckley, 1997; Davenport & Stam, 2009;

Rever, 2018; Straus & Waldorf, 2011).

So, my entry to the field took me unexpected directions. While I was trying to approach the Central Africans, I was pulled into a large group of Rwandan women who all wanted me to visit their homes and spend time with them. I was observed and allowed to observe. I was not entirely ready for the eagerness to share, and how some of the stories came out with such force. They did not wait for notebooks to open or close, necessarily, to start telling me about rape, HIV, sex work, and the loss of families in the long trek from Rwanda to Cameroon. At one point when I sat there stunned after a particularly challenging story, my research participant, seemingly not wanting to scare me away, started asking me how I was doing. He was trying to lighten up the atmosphere after he told me about having to leave his wife to die in the forest, just after their newborn passed, as a way to flee to safety. How can people still be standing after all of this? How does life continue? And how did they still have such great aspirations for the future when they seem to be so haunted by their pasts? Or, is it these haunting pasts that inspires these grand aspirations for the future—as a way to continue life after the unthinkable?

Despite knowing Yaoundé quite well, over the context of this research I saw it through a completely new lens. Not only did I visit neighborhoods I had never been to, in fact, I think I visited nearly every neighborhood in Yaoundé and its outskirts, but I also learned what it is like to be a documented or undocumented refugee in Cameroon. I learned about the opportunities and challenges that present themselves as a refugee in a large and growing African city. Furthermore, through this research I learned how

49 households leverage hope (as a form of cultural capital, see Section 3.1) to devise aspirations and subsequent strategies to cope with hardship and try to create better futures for their children and families despite chronic adversity.

Chapter 3: Theoretical framework, conceptual model, and literature review

3.1 Framing aspirations and marginality

Over the course of this research, I observed that hope is ubiquitous. However, the

ability (and available pathways) for refugee women to achieve aspirations that emerge

from hope is usually unequal and contingent on access to capital and socio-cultural expectations of women in their communities. Explorations of hope and aspirations are usually absent in humanitarian practice and in social science research on marginalized populations. However, I argue that hope and aspirations are a critical missing component that allow humanitarians and social scientists to contextualize and better understand the practices of the world’s marginalized. I use Appadurai’s (2004) capacity to aspire theoretical framework (for a full explanation of the theoretical framework and conceptual model, see Section 3.2 below) as a foundation for this dissertation. In this way, the capacity to aspire theoretical framework guided the development of my research questions, objectives, and the evidence that I needed to gather over the course of my dissertation. From this theoretical framework, I build a conceptual model (see Figure 1 below) that outlines the interactions between the types of evidence that I gathered, and the ways in which these interactions affect Rwandan urban refugee women’s capacity to aspire.

3.1.1 Researching hope in the context of anguish

A focus on hope and aspirations allows us to understand anguish and suffering in

a more nuanced and humanizing way. Because of the nature of the neo-liberal ideologies

that underpin humanitarian programs, both these programs and project participants are

cast as a static, or stuck, list of problems that can be addressed in simple ways (Ferguson,

2010; Hage, 2016). A shift from a focus on the problems of the past and present to a

focus on the future and linked actions to achieve aspirations allows both humanitarians

and project participants to move towards actively and collaboratively working towards better futures. In my previous work as a humanitarian professional, all of our research and programs were focused on identifying suffering, anguish, and vulnerability, and finding ways to address it. We never stepped back to explicitly ask about or understand anguish’s source as potentially lying in concerns over the future. The framing of the suffering and anguish was always linked to the past or present. In my over decade of experience, I cannot recall one instance where we stepped back and first asked our project participants what they hoped for in the future, and tried to understand the gaps between their hopes and current realities and how they could be bridged. Because of this, we were analyzing anguish and suffering from our own points of view as humanitarians, defined by our expectations (often defined by international standards devised out of context) of what the lives of project participants should look like. In doing so, I contend we were stripping them of their dignity and ability to articulate their needs and desired services. This also created a sense of dependency on agencies, and frustration when the services offered did not match those which project participants wanted. However, even in

52 these stories of anguish, if we had been paying better attention, we could have identified and built on sparks of hope.

Through the conversations that I engaged in with Rwandan urban refugees over the course of my fieldwork, I identified three broad interconnected themes across the

Rwandan urban refugee community’s stories that serve as the foundation to this dissertation: (1) the ways in which hope serves to justify strategies taken to achieve aspirations; (2) mothers’ perceived need to avoid becoming a burden as a way to maintain hope for their kin; and (3) the role that hope plays in being able to cope with uncertainty.

Through this research it became clear to me that hope is interlinked with a number of factors, including access to capital and structures which can create opportunities or barriers related to health, housing, and legal status as well as security in the country, and socio-cultural expectations pertaining to gender and age of household members. For

Bourdieu (1977), capital is distinguished as economic, cultural, or social. These forms of capital are intertwined and not mutually exclusive. Economic capital takes the form of money or material possessions such as property. Cultural capital can be embodied or acquired through early education and socialization and is linked with what a society values as being symbolically superior (Bourdieu, 1977). Other forms of cultural capital can also be accumulated in material forms, such as art, books, or college degrees that have a symbolically high value within their society (Bourdieu, 1977). Social capital is comprised of the social networks that a person belongs to, which can include those they are born into (such as a caste), married into, or joined through gained membership via

degrees and certifications (Bourdieu, 1977). Each of these forms of capital can be

transformed into one of the other forms of capital once accumulated (Bourdieu, 1977).

However, hardship and strained access to capital and important societal structures

does not equate to a loss of hope. Hope may wax and wane, as I will illustrate in Case

Study 1 (see Chapter 6), depending on the successful precedents of strategies towards

aspirations of household members or others they know in the community. Sometimes I

observed that even in extremely challenging contexts including exposure to violence that threw households into a situation of fear and uncertainty, rather than hope completely disappearing from the household, it became stronger. This will be illustrated in Case

Study 3 (Chapter 9) on the ways in which I observed hope as a way to cope with uncertainty.

3.2 The capacity to aspire in this dissertation

In the capacity to aspire theoretical framework, hope is a culturally constructed

“anticipatory posture,” (Appadurai, 2013: 127) regardless of what is considered to be feasible or possible. In other words, and as noted elsewhere (Kleist & Jansen, 2016), even the marginalized can harbor hope. However, the capacity to achieve the aspirations that stem from this hope is unequal. Because of access to various forms of capital some persons may have a greater “navigational capacity” (Appadurai, 2004: 69). The poor in particular often have fewer options. The capacity to aspire framework considers the ability to imagine and act on aspirations as a shared cultural capacity situated firmly within a society’s context, structures, and unequal access to various forms of capital.

Indeed, the capacity to aspire cannot be divorced from the disadvantaged circumstances

54 in which some segments of society find themselves. The capacity to aspire situates aspirations in concrete terms by underlining what it is a person wants to achieve

(aspirations), a belief that they can be achieved (hope), the actual feasibility of any plan to achieve them (political economy including access to capital and limiting structures), and the actions taken to achieve them (strategies). In this way, persons with privileged access to various forms of capital, and therefore structures, in a society can be considered to have a greater capacity to aspire, or at least to achieve their aspirations.

My conceptual model (see Figure 1 below) builds on the application of the capacity to aspire theoretical framework by Bok (2010). Bok (2010) uses the capacity to aspire theoretical framework in her research on students from low socioeconomic groups pursuing higher education in the United States. Bok (2010) operationalizes Appadurai’s

(2004) capacity to aspire framework using the analytical framework of practice theory

(Bourdieu, 1977). Bok (2010) reframes aspirations as a cultural category that informs dispositions towards higher education. She demonstrates that students with lower economic status have substantial aspirations, despite the commonly held notions held by their teachers and school administrators that they lack ambition. She suggests that what these students lack is the capacity to achieve these aspirations. These aspirations may be the same as students from more privileged backgrounds (i.e. wanting to become a lawyer or a doctor). However, the most effective pathways or routes on what she refers to as a map to implement strategies to achieve these aspirations is also the same. The difference is that students from more privileged backgrounds have access to considerable precedents

(i.e. persons who have experienced success in achieving these particular aspirations who

55 can guide them) as well as the economic capital and structures to effectively forge their path. Bok (2010) however finds that the students from underprivileged backgrounds lack not only the economic capital, but also the social and cultural capital to know how to effectively read the map. The lack of economic, social, and cultural capital also limits their ability to access key structures (such as professional associations, scholarships, tutoring programs) as well as other persons in their social networks that can guide them, leading to these students being unable to effectively maneuver the fields on the map towards their aspirations. These students may then engage strategies that are not as effective in reaching their aspirations. The path of Concilie to reach Europe, mentioned earlier and further discussed in Chapter 6, Case Study 1, is mirrored in the experiences of the underprivileged students that Bok (2010) illustrates.

The conceptual model I build for this dissertation (see Figure 1) situates the capacity to reach aspirations on a metaphorical map. The capacity to aspire is in affected by various societal structures that may provide opportunities or barriers on the map.

Using practice theory (Bourdieu, 1977), aspirations are the agency that persons have to decide what they want for the future. In order to effectively read the map, access key structures, and have a greater capacity to achieve these aspirations, an agent needs to pull on their social, cultural, and economic capital. Social and cultural capital allow for an agent to better read the map, and all three forms of capital help in different ways to maneuver in the greater field (the map) towards their aspirations. In the context of my research key structures include the UNHCR and the different government agencies that provide security and potential sources of, or barriers to, capital. Stemming from these

structures, exclusionary immigration policy, xenophobia, and structural vulnerability can

either limit or catalyze urban refugees’ capacity to aspire. A combination of legal

precarity and the loss of economic, social, and cultural capital may impede refugees’ ability to aspire.

Social networks including churches are forms of social capital that can provide

additional support in reading the map, but if few other persons have effectively achieved

aspirations (precedents), than the support they can provide, albeit well-intentioned, may be limited. Structures and access to capital are intricately linked in my conceptual model.

Urban refugees living in the developing world are often pushed to the margins of the city, further eroding their access to the various types of capital that would allow them to act on their aspirations, and actually achieve their desired outcomes. This conceptual model identifies key elements among these broader contextual concerns and explain the unequal distribution of hope posited in the capacity to aspire theoretical model. The assumption of unequal distribution of hope (political economy of hope) and the relationship between actions and access to various forms of capital (practice theory) are central to the understanding of aspirations and actions within this conceptual model.

Greater capacity to aspire

Ability to •Access to social, cultural, and implement those economic capital strategies •Access to key structures (i.e. UNHCR) Hope (envision a Plans and strategies better future)

• Socio-cultural expectations (gender, religion, family) • Aspirations (agency) • Level of education • Precedents (access to successful role- models)

Figure 1: Conceptual Model of the Capacity to Aspire

In my conceptual model aspirations and the strategies that stem from them are a form of agency. In line with what Scott (1985) and Ortner (1995, 2006) call acts of resistance, this agency is a way of pushing against limiting structures and unequal power relations that keep the marginalized in their place. For this reason, Ortner (2006) refers to agency as “serious games.” However, pushing against these structures alone is not enough to achieve aspirations. In line with Ortner (2006), I define agency as the ways in which people re-create themselves in their cultural and social contexts of unequal

58 power relations. These unequal power relations are critical to understand and pay attention to, yet because of agency, they are not necessarily determining factors.

Ortner (1995, 2006) also argues that culture and social contexts, including limiting structures and class, are critical to understanding agency, or what she calls acts of resistance, in a non-reifying way. That is where the rest of the map from my conceptual model, including the effect of structures and capital, come in. This capacity to aspire framework does something different than a traditional political economic framework however, as it explicitly examines hope and aspirations as part of the framework, including the ways in which both are shaped and influenced by the broader socio-cultural context. Indeed, in overlooking hope and agency and only focusing on unequal social and cultural structures, traditional political economic frameworks may be overlooking what Miyazaki (2004) argues shapes behavior, hope. This hope in turn shapes aspirations. In the conceptual model that guides this dissertation (see Figure 1 and

Section 3.2), I simultaneously pay attention to both so as to paint a necessarily more complex picture that better corresponds with the realities of my research participants’ lives.

Appadurai (2004) and others (Bok, 2010; Kleist & Jansen, 2016) suggest that

Bourdieu’s (1977) practice theory is a particularly useful analytical approach to understand action stemming from hope. In my conceptual model, practice theory allows me to examine the reciprocal relationship between both refugees’ aspirations, the strategies they devise to achieve them, and their ability to implement these strategies within the greater field, inclusive of access to various forms of capital, structures, and

59 socio-cultural expectations of women. While I seek themes and patterns, it is not my intention to be overly deterministic in suggesting for example that all Rwandan women or adolescents have the same hopes, aspirations, and barriers. I will explore and discuss the role of various factors that seem to affect individual variation in practice as it pertains to hope and household aspirations.

In my conceptual model, differential access to various forms of capital affect a person’s experience in the world in terms of the spaces that they can easily navigate, and the ways in which they navigate these spaces. Someone with less social, economic, and cultural capital may have little ability to navigate certain spaces (such as the formal sector) and achieve their desired goals. Furthermore, a lack in any one of these types of capital, particularly economic capital, may impede one’s ability to increase their cultural and social capital (Bourdieu, 1977). Specific factors in the political economic context of

Rwandan Hutu urban refugee women that may limit access to capital and structures, and therefore limit the capacity to aspire, include immigration policy and the inclusion or exclusion of services available to persons with refugee status. Increasingly exclusionary immigration and national policies that strip refugees of their legal status or right to work limit the ability for urban refugees to effectively meet their needs. For example,

Cessation Clauses may impede the capacity to aspire by eroding the potential to access the capital needed to achieve desired outcomes. These exclusionary policies can result in a cascade effect of exclusion from markets or social services. In other words, in an increasingly unequal political economic context, with restricted access to different forms of capital driven by various forms of hardship including xenophobia, it may be

increasingly difficult to navigate different spaces. This difficulty results in decreasing

options that could otherwise allow individuals to achieve their desired goals. Women face

specific challenges in accessing various forms capital which influence their prioritization

of aspirations and strategies to reach them in a household or society. In this cultural

context, as outlined in Section 2.3 on the Rwandan cultural context, women’s individual

health or well-being are of lesser value than their husband’s, brothers’, or children’s.

Furthermore, in the context of Cessation Clauses (see Section 2.2.1) or other loss of legal

protected status in a country, the important cultural, political, and economic capital

associated with belonging is stripped away.

The social and cultural facts that underline an individual’s experience can also

find parallels in Bourdieu’s (1977) concept of habitus. Marginalized populations, such as

urban refugees that are forced into legal precarity, likely experience less success in achieving their goals because of the structural forces acting against them, and therefore have fewer precedents to bolster their capital and confidence in their ability to achieve their goals. The lack of precedents may cause them to keep their aspirations where they deem are feasible, rather than imagining dramatically different lives for themselves.

For the above outlined reasons, pursuant to my conceptual model, hardships including but not limited to changing immigration policy (the Cessation Clause), the structural challenges that Rwandan urban refugee women were facing particularly in

regards to ensuring better futures for their children were crucial evidence that I needed to

collect in the context of this research. It is not feasible to understand the aspirations,

desired outcomes, and the process that links aspirations and actions together without

understanding the interacting effects of all of these socio-cultural and political economic

contextual factors on the map. The capacity to aspire framework, beyond the political

economic context, also underlines the importance of understanding the social and cultural

facts that influence aspirations (Appadurai, 2004). Relevant to my research, and in line

with the Rwandan cultural context (see Section 2.3), this includes the socio-cultural

expectations of women. As outlined in Section 2.3 on the Rwandan cultural context, and

as I will discuss in Chapters 6-9, women’s access to important social capital including

social networks may also be limited because of these socio-cultural expectations.

3.3 Anthropologies of hope

A vast body of literature has aptly captured the social suffering that has resulted

from a variety of neoliberal policies worldwide (Biehl & Petryna, 2013; Das, 2007;

Farmer, 1997; Kleinman, Das, & Locke, 1997). Wilkinson and Kleinman (2016) argue

that much work on suffering is informed by Max Weber’s (1978) work, and his

theorization that suffering was a unique and central part of modern, capitalist, society and the inherent inequalities that accompany capitalism. This body of research has emphasized the pervasive nature of social suffering. However, Wilkinson and Kleinman

(2016) argue it morally imperative for researchers to go beyond documenting suffering, and ensure that research also proposes ways to address the enormous suffering in the world. This was part of the impetus for my dissertation’s focus on hope, aspirations, and practice.

I argue that it is not possible to fully understand social suffering and vulnerability among refugees without also exploring resistance against the social conditions that often

62 lead to this suffering in the form of hope, aspirations, and practice towards these aspirations. Focusing on practice and resistance (see discussion of agency in Section 3.2) can also serve to re-empower research participants who can be inadvertently disempowered through a unilateral focus on their oppression and suffering. Wilkinson and Kleinman (2016) further underline the need to translate the documentation of drivers of social suffering that can be addressed to the appropriate policy makers (Wilkinson &

Kleinman, 2016). While it is important to continue to document and propose solutions to social suffering, there may be other approaches to understand how the world’s marginalized actively face hardship and the barriers in their larger contexts (or maps, as discussed in section 3.2 above) that can allow practicing anthropologists to identify specific structures and make recommendations to improve access to these structures and capital to effectively address the causes of the world’s suffering. The focus on practice in the conceptual model used in this research (see Section 3.2 above) can also ensure that socio-cultural traditions and opportunities are understood, leveraged, and built-on in building effective programs to mitigate suffering.

In recent years there has been a turn in a variety of social science disciplines towards understanding how hope emerges from the world’s marginalized as a form of resistance in imagining a better future (Appadurai, 2004; Bloch, 1986; Hage, 2016;

Ortner, 2016; J. Robbins, 2013). In her argument for an anthropology of hope, medical anthropologist Cheryl Mattingly purports, “[h]ope most centrally involves the practice of creating, or trying to create, lives worth living even in the midst of suffering, even with no happy ending in sight” (Mattingly, 2010: 6). Shifting to a framework of hope helps

researchers to understand the aspirations that are the catalyst and justification for actions that are observed in the present. For example, Mains’ (2015) study of the way in which khat use in Ethiopia provides hope to users living in otherwise desolate situations demonstrates that even behavior which public health professionals and researchers label

as maladaptive can be constructively complicated through a frame of hope (Mains, 2015).

Identifying these actions and their link to aspirations can also help us better understand

agency and resistance. Scott (1985) underlines how the small acts of agency and

resistance of subordinate classes can often be easily overlooked as researchers so often

focus on either suffering, or larger more revolutionary movements, when the majority of

resistance in the world occurs when persons push against the system in smaller and more

nuanced ways.

The ways in which hope is intricately entwined with agency and practice are

foundational to the conceptual model of my dissertation. Bourdieu et al. (1999)

demonstrate the enormous capacity to harbor hope in those left at the margins of society.

Their research asserts that hope is less tangible among marginalized populations, or less

likely to be achieved, because of their limited access to various forms of capital

(Bourdieu et al., 1999). In La Misère du Monde (Bourdieu et al., 1999), rather than

unilaterally focusing on descriptive studies of suffering, Bourdieu and his colleagues

(1999) explored how structures and capital limited the available strategies. Among

populations with greater access to various forms of capital, when their aspirations are

achieved it sets precedents that these aspirations are possible. Bourdieu et al. (2009)

found that despite the lack of precedents, marginalized populations continued to find

creative ways to work towards their aspirations, even if these were rarely met with

imminent success in achieving them.

Bourdieu et al. (1999) underline that the blame for their suffering, and the

implications to effectively addressing it, was placed on societal structures and institutions

rather than blaming the marginalized for their behavior and lack of ability to achieve

“success.” In this way, hope can also be considered a form of cultural capital (see

discussion of Hage’s (2003) work in section 3.3.1 below) insofar as it determines what

persons want for their future, and it is interlinked with economic and social capital in

terms of how aspirations stemming from hope can be achieved. Appadurai (2004), Bok

(2010), and Lucht (2016), however, go further to underline that economic and social

capital are not necessarily deterministic of hope. They underline that those living at the

world’s margins often continue aspire despite their limited access to other forms of

capital through more intransitive forms of hope. In fact, research has documented that

suffering can be a catalyst, rather than a deterrent, for hope (Feldman, 2016; Turner,

2016). It is perhaps the uncertainty inherent to hope in the open-ended, intransitive sense that is more common in marginalized populations (Turner, 2015; Webb, 2007). Jansen

(2016) uses the example of citizens of the newly formed Bosnia and Herzegovina and the hope that was born from the uncertainty of the future and a break from a past full of suffering. Jansen (2016) argues that an absence of precedents is not always a deal breaker when it comes to hope and aspirations. He argues that the world’s marginalized often have enormous intransitive, or seemingly unfeasible, hope that still inspire aspirations and related practice, even though they may hinge on something unprecedented (Jansen,

2016). Understanding hope and aspirations in this way can also help us understand

practice and the opportunities and barriers that affect both aspirations and practice.

Yet, intransitive forms of hope still drive intentional actions (Johnson-Hanks,

2005; Kleist, 2016b). In other words, just because there a student does not know any doctors or lawyers or has never been inside a mansion with running water does not mean they cannot harbor hope to achieve this, even if they have to imagine without reference to successful examples in their social worlds to pull on, how to achieve this.

3.3.1 Anthropologies of hope as anthropologies of the future and uncertainty

Anthropologies of hope are not only an anthropology of happiness or the good life, but they represent anthropologies of the future that inform observed behavior in the past and present. Appadurai (2013) suggests that similar laying the foundations for anthropologies of social suffering (see first discussion paragraph in Section 3.3.1), Max

Weber (1978) also laid the foundations for an anthropology of the future. Appadurai

(2013: 3) refers to a future-oriented approach in social science as focusing on the

“politics of possibility over a politics of probability.” Rather than focusing on the static situation of the present that leads to analyses being focused on the politics of probability,

Appadurai (2013: 5) questions why anthropologists have not attempted to better understand the “future as a cultural horizon.” In this way, we can go beyond documenting actions or practices as a product of or reaction to suffering, but situate them as strategies that people at the margins employ in order to move towards achieving their aspirations (Appadurai, 2013). It is important to keep in mind that the relationship between the past, present, and future is not always linear and identical across social and

cultural contexts. The links between past, present, and future from the point of view of

the research participants should aim to be understood by the anthropologist. Hope needs

to be understood as a product of current experience, and how these experiences relate to

both the past and aspirations for the future (Malkki, 1995; Kleist and Jansen, 2016). A

future orientation in anthropology requires a reorientation of anthropology to one that

looks at actions as habitual, rooted in culture, and informed by the past as well as

imagined possibilities of the future.

While hope, as mentioned earlier, is an up and coming area of research, it is still relatively new and under-theorized (Crapanzano, 2003; Robbins, 2013; Jansen, 2016).

Yet, it holds tremendous potential in ethnographic research (Carbonella, 2003;

Crapanzano, 2003). As noted above, the early sparks for hope in social research came from Marxist work, which was essentially hopeful in imagining a future beyond the suffering that capitalism brought to the world (Bloch, 1986; Carbonella, 2003; Jansen,

2016; Weber, 1978). An explicit focus on hope represents a shift from considering how and why people suffer, to considering what they do when they are faced with crushing circumstances (Ortner, 2016; Robbins, 2013). As discussed above, Appadurai (2013) considers hope to be a way of envisioning the future that results from the interactions between imagination, anticipation, and aspiration. Hope is contingent on culturally articulated narratives that invoke hope, centering on what is most important, linking hope to the above-referenced ideas of cultural horizons of the future (Appadurai, 2013;

Mattingly & Lutkehaus, 2008). In this way, aspirations are informed by cultural

67 constructions of possible futures and acts as a “force that converts passive conditions of

‘waiting for’ to the active condition of ‘waiting to’” (Appadurai, 2013: 127).

Even in the field of psychology, Snyder (2002) suggests that hope also is and remains under-theorized and under-utilized as an analytical concept. While some instruments have been developed to measure the affective aspects of hope (Hanson, 2017;

Herth, 1992), they have been critiqued for not being cross-culturally valid (Snyder,

2002). Snyder (2002) suggests that three important elements of hope are having goals, the extent to which you believe those goals are feasible, and having a plan to reach them.

Yet, while anthropologists of hope have attempted to understand and use to the extent possible some of this work in positive psychology, it is widely regarded that seeing hope only as a positive affect or personality trait falls short of its potential as an analytical tool

(Jansen, 2016). To ensure the added value of an ethnographic or anthropological approach to studying hope, we need to go beyond psychological questions (i.e. does an individual still harbor hope?) and instead explore what it is that people hope for, how do they envision their ideal futures, and how this motivates practice (Kleist & Jansen, 2016).

The capacity to aspire theoretical framework, and the conceptual model that I build from that in this dissertation, is one tool that can be used to that. Hope is more nuanced than a normative idea of being hopeful. Aspirations, and corresponding practices to achieve these aspirations, stem from hope, and are affected by their broader socio-cultural and political economic contexts.

Anthropologies of the future also allow for the uncertainty that is central to anthropologies of hope. Uncertainty is also central to urban migration, both in terms of

68 how long it will last, and how cities will continue to adapt and plan for new futures while integrating increasingly diverse populations (Yotebieng, 2018b; 100 Resilient Cities,

2017). Later in this dissertation, I expand on this intransitive hope that results from becoming increasingly marginalized, and the ways in which it affects strategies taken by different household members. Specifically, as I will cover in Case Study 3, uncertainty due to legal precarity introduced by the Cessation Clause and Ivoire’s husband’s murder led her and her children not to lose hope, but rather drove more intransitive forms of hope within their household. In other words, as the Cessation Clause and the circumstances around her husband’s murder increased uncertainty in Ivoire’s household (see Case Study

3), Ivoire and her children amplified their research on ways in which they could move to the United States without the avenue of refugee resettlement which was effectively closed with the loss of their right to remain refugees. Furthermore, as the stressful circumstances exacerbated her eldest daughter’s heart condition, her daughter continued to search for both employment opportunities and remedies for her failing heart on the internet, despite their precarious economic, security, and legal situation.

Arguably one of the most well-known hope theorists is the theologian Ernst Bloch

(1986), whose work set the stage for understanding hope as future orientation, or a focus on anticipation. In this way, hope enhances an individual’s ability and desire to keep going despite adversity (Bloch, 1986). Hope is, in a sense, a longing for the possible future alternatives that have been formed, and inform actions in the present (Bloch,

1986). Along these lines, hope often emerges from situations of uncertainty. As I will

69 outline in Chapter 8, Case Study 3, I often found this in my research, and argue that hope serves as a way to cope with suffering and the uncertainty of the present.

Increasing numbers of anthropologists (Brun, 2016; Jansen, 2016; Kleist &

Jansen, 2016) have relied heavily on both Bloch and Australian anthropologist Ghassan

Hage’s work on hope. In referring to the importance of uncertainty and intransitive hope,

Hage (2003: 24) purports that hope “is above all a disposition to be confident in the face of the future, to be open to it and welcoming to what it will bring, even if one does not know for sure what it will bring.” In his theoretical work on hope among immigrants and marginalized persons, Hage (2003) put hope forward as a way for researchers and people to move beyond “stuckedness.” To Hage (2003), hope was cultural in the sense that it was a social imaginary that emerged from culturally and contextually situated futures of what is important and desirable. Hage (2003) distinguishes individual level hope from societal hope, or the way in which the state unequally distributes visions of hope and ideals of the good life, or benchmarks for success in a society. Specifically, Hage (2016) argues that governments are often seen to be the actors that unevenly distribute hope to the more and less privileged or deserving. For this reason, Hage (2003) suggests that hope is a form of cultural capital that is unevenly distributed across populations in the modern capitalist system. The unequal distribution of hope suggested by Hage (2003,

2016) has inspired anthropological research focusing on the political economy of hope. A political economy of hope situates the different ways that people aspire contingent on their social positions across time and space (Kleist & Jansen, 2016; Syvertsen et al.,

2017).

Miyazaki (2004) suggests a different but related analytical framework where hope

can be seen as a method or a catalyst for action. Echoing Bloch (1986), Miyazaki (2004)

suggests that hope is a way of rethinking the present and imagining the future. Miyazaki

(2004: 30) argues that anthropologists should be focusing on how we can “replicate the

spark of hope” gleaned from persons despite the often challenging circumstances that

they are up against. Conceptualizing hope in this way “provides a way for the researcher to reorient knowledge production so as to better understand hopeful practices” (Haugen,

2016: 100). This includes understanding what drives these practices, and how the aspirations that stem from hopeful horizons are changed or adjusted. Related to hope as a method, Crapanzano (2003) also suggests hope is not always as optimistic as theologians like Bloch (1986) make it out to be. Hope can also be a source of anxiety or paralysis when aspirations stemming from hope are not met or when they begin to feel less and less possible (Crapanzano, 2003).

As discussed in this section, anthropologies of hope are also anthropologies of the future and uncertainty. In an edited volume where Hage (2016) reflects on the enormous use of his original reflections on hope, he reiterates that studying hope means reflecting on an individual, community, or society’s relationship with the future. Crapanzano (2003) considers hope to be a mediator or link to the future.

Uncertainty is an ingredient of hope, something that allows for the process of hope to begin. In fact, as Kleist and Jansen (2016) aptly note that uncertainty characterizes the majority of the human experience, rather than being the exception. Uncertainty allows for hope to blossom in the context of challenging situations, and in a sense, is what drives the

hope, aspirations, and strategies of my research participants that I will outline in Chapters

5-8.

3.3.2 Migration as a gendered locus for hope

As mentioned above, while the anthropology of hope scholarship has only recently begun to gain traction, one area where there has been a particular surge is in the context of global migration. Relevant to global trends related to migration, studying migration through a framework of hope allows researchers to analyze the ways in which immigration policies at the national or international level unevenly distribute hope to different populations, or impede it through “restrictive regimes of mobility around the world” (Kleist and Jansen, 2016: 383), and how these policies affect women, men, and children differently within a population (Feldman, 2016). Kleist and Jansen (2016) argue

that studying hope in this context allows social scientists to understand how hope and

future-making occur in these settings and restrictive contexts, shifting the narrative from

one of migration only being associated with desperation, to one where it is a site for

aspirations, innovation, and possibility. Hope is often an impetus for migration in the first

place. Lucht (2016), in his research on hope among Ghanaian migrants en route to Libya

stranded in Niger suggests that once people are pushed to the margins of society as illegal

or unwanted migrants, hope may be the last form of cultural capital that they are readily

able to activate albeit in more intransitive forms. Holmes (2013) in his work on

indigenous Mexican’s migration to the United States argues that hope leads to a greater

ability to tolerate risk and uncertainty in the lives of migrants. In search of a better life,

even if it seems unlikely, potential migrants or refugees still garner hope as a way to

move forward, often with very concrete plans on how they will migrate, and a high-level

of uncertainty as to what will happen once they arrive (Drotbohm, 2016).

The focus on uncertainty, as mentioned above (see discussion of uncertainty in

Section 3.3.1), is also critical to studies of migration. As an impetus to migration, hope can play a crucial role in overcoming uncertainty and allowing individuals to imagine the infinite possibilities in a new place (Hernandez-Carretero, 2016). Prior to traveling, uncertainty plays an important role in providing something to anticipate. On the other hand, concerning the possibility of return, migrants are often more hesitant as they are faced with returning home empty-handed, without having achieved the lofty aspirations they set for themselves. Furthermore, in return there is considerable less uncertainty as migrants may feel they know what to expect stemming from a string of disappointments and suffering from the past that they often associate with home (Bredeloup, 2016;

Hernandez-Carretero, 2016). Indeed, since so many people back home may be hinging on an international migrants’ success, Hernandez-Carretero (2016) found that Senegalese migrants in Spain were more likely to return only once they had achieved that success.

Otherwise, they would prefer to continue to wait it out in anticipation that they would be able to achieve it, rather than returning home in shame (Hernandez-Carretero, 2016).

In another exploration of the way uncertainty catalyzes hope, Feldman’s (2016) research among Palestinian refugees demonstrates that even if the larger hope of a sovereign state of Palestine seems unattainable, hope is still very much present in the lives of Palestinian refugees and serves as a driving force for the ways in which they build their lives in exile. Arguing that humanitarian programs serving refugees and forced

73 migrants need to better understand and leverage the hopes, aspirations, and innovative ideas of the populations they are serving, Feldman (2016) suggests that the model of keeping Palestinian refugees in camp environments is, in fact, a form of cruel optimism, as it implies that a camp is a temporary place, and that return is on the horizon. Feldman

(2016) argues that humanitarian agencies could do better by understanding the potential futures, hopes, and aspirations, of the refugees and displaced persons that they serve.

Brun (2016) argues that shifting the focus to one that aims to understand and bolster hope allows displaced persons to imagine how to move on despite their current situations of often protracted displacement.

In relation to ways to bolster hope and understand and support aspirations in protracted refugee situations, Brun (2016) suggests studying humanitarian situations through the feminist framework of an ethics of care. She argues that the future is a reflection of an idealized past in some ways, and an ethics of care brings the local context, biography or history, and future together and implies a relationship between humanitarians, researchers, and our research participants (Brun, 2016). This shift also ensures a focus from a patronizing caring for, to a concerted effort to care about persons stuck in protracted humanitarian situations which, as of now, tend to be marked by increased vulnerability rather than resilience over time in part because of the short- sighted frameworks that aim to support them (Brun, 2016).

Uncertain futures pitted against challenging pasts make hope a way to cope with the uncertainty of the present in the context of migration. Kleist (2016a) describes of a sense of failure in return among deported Ghanaian migrants if they had not managed to

74 successfully transform their social or economic status in exile before their return. In order to avoid these feelings of failure, Bredeloup (2016) describes how migrants from

Francophone Africa were more likely to endure work that they would not do elsewhere, like drive a taxi or clean floors, in a new place. This was true even if it was associated with a loss of status where migrants may have had held positions with more status back home. They were able to endure these challenges in anticipation that in the end, they would be able to achieve their goals through the toils of hard work (Bredeloup, 2016).

This echoes findings by Gomberg-Muñoz (2010) among Mexican laborers in the United

States. Gomberg-Muñoz (2010) argues that this is in part because migrants to new places may not necessarily see themselves as part of the social hierarchy in their new homes.

Gender has been increasingly recognized as foundational to understanding the reasons for, processes, and consequences of migration (Bilsborrow, 1992; Chant &

Radcliffe, 1992; Hugo, 1993; Pedraza, 1991; Tienda & Booth, 1991). While much of this literature focuses on migration more broadly, with a focus on labor migration, the findings in terms of how women reorganize their lives in the context of migration, their aspirations, and the strategies they employ to reach these aspirations are contingent on cultural and social norms and available capital struck me as a factor that should be central in any study of migration, including migration and hope. In much of the research that I explored on forced migration and migration and hope, I found little that focused explicitly on gender with the exception of papers focused on gender based violence and maternal and child health among refugees. Yet, given the well-documented gendered disparities in other health and well-being outcomes in much public health research

(Camlin et al., 2014; Camlin et al., 2018), I hypothesized at the beginning of this research that gender also affects the capacity to aspire among my research participants.

Recognizing that socio-cultural expectations of women are important factors that influence both aspirations and practice, while my dissertation is not a gendered analysis in the sense that it is not comparative of different gendered experience, I explicitly focus on women in my data collection and analysis to analyze women’s capacity to aspire.

3.3.3 Religious, moral, and social communities

Religious, moral, and social networks are key sources of social and cultural capital, as well as sources of hope in confronting uncertainty. As noted earlier, and as will be elaborated in Case Studies 1 and 3, uncertainty is a key ingredient to both hope and anxiety, and nowhere is this perhaps clearer than the context of migration in the pursuit of uncertain futures. Turner (2015) goes further to suggest that hope thrives in challenging and uncertain circumstances, like those in which many migrants find themselves around the world. Furthermore, expectations of women are often linked with their faith. Fiddian-

Qasmiyeh (2016) underlines the importance of understanding the intersections with gender and faith in the refugee and asylum seeking context, and the different opportunities and challenges that are presented at this intersection. It is especially important to complicate these interactions beyond one where faith and religion are always seen as oppressive forces on women, but rather understand the ways in which faith and religion affect agency, practice, and sentiments of belonging or exclusion (Fiddian-

Qasmiyeh, 2016).

An entire industry, in some places, can be built from the hopes of, and continue to

provide new hope to migrants in the form of religious organizations (Vammen, 2016). In a way, these organizations become vendors of hope. In some of the world’s most challenging contexts, even when the most basic social and health infrastructure is missing, a plethora of churches and related social organizations often crop up and thrive

(Bjarnesen, 2016; Vammen, 2016). Through religious and related social organizations, immigrants are able to remake their identities and make sense of their suffering in a way that emphasizes the possibilities for their futures (Bjarnesen, 2016). Hope draws strength from faith and social communities which can serve as cultural brokers and help to situate loss, not as a reason to give up altogether but to understand it in the frame of a temporary sacrifice for long-term success (Lucht, 2016).

Religious organizations in particular have been well documented as being brokers of hope, or institutions that serve as motivation to continue to hope, dream, and aspire, even in the most challenging circumstances, including legal precarity (Bredeloup, 2016;

Crapanzano, 2003; Haugen, 2016; Robbins, 2006; Sliwinski, 2016; Turner, 2015).

Anthropologists have studied Pentecostal churches, in particular, describing their emergence in this context, even among persons who were not Pentecostal in their countries of origin, as a particularly strong promoter of hope (Crapanzano, 2003; Haugen,

2016; Turner, 2015). Haugen (2016: 103) asserts that:

Pentecostal theology insists that hope has a moral dimension. Hopefulness is

portrayed as virtuous; despair is regarded as degenerate. In the Pentecostal moral

universe, problems are not understood as structurally rooted or accidentally

inflicted but, rather, cast in a narrative of good and evil. Overcoming trouble is

equated with fighting the devil.

When I first arrived at my research site, I was surprised that many of the Rwandan urban refugees in Yaoundé had left the Catholic Church, as I knew it to be central to postcolonial Rwandan culture and traditions (see Section 2.3 on Rwandan cultural context).

However, except for one household who gave up on religion altogether, all of the other households that I engaged with had become very active in Protestant churches, mainly

Pentecostal. It was only after discovering this in the field that I began to seek out the above-referenced rich body of literature which documents the phenomena of Pentecostal

Churches becoming popular in situations of uncertainty, such as migration. Out of curiosity, I honored several of the many invitations to attend the Pentecostal Church, and the sermons provided solace and a cathartic space to release the stress and pain that was often part of their experience (see Appendix J for some photographs of these churches in session). Furthermore, I found that these faith organizations focused on replacing suffering with hope and clearer visions of paths by which individuals could reach their aspirations.

Hope, when linked with faith, also provides an explanation for the suffering that many migrants face in exile. In other words, despite the hardship that migrants may face which looks and feels very different than what they had hoped or imagined they would find in their new homes, hope situated suffering as necessary and temporary. Faith was often foundational to this hope, with phrases such as, “It is God who will save us” repeated across nearly all households that I worked with over the course of my

dissertation when we got to talking about a particular challenge a household member was

facing. Pentecostal theology also underlines the importance of the grand goals of

salvation, underlining those loftier, more audacious, hopes as those which were most

important, rather than the everyday hopes to overcome one’s temporary struggles

(Crapanzano, 2003). After my continued reading, the shift from Catholicism to

Pentecostal congregations among Rwandan refugees began to make more sense to me,

particularly as I was approaching my fieldwork through a framework of hope.

3.4 Conclusion

An anthropology of hope is an anthropology of both the future and uncertainty.

Anthropological perspectives allow for aspirations from the point of view of research participants, time and the relationship between the past, present, and future to be

explored. Anthropologies of hope aim to understand the ways in which uncertainty and

precariousness are linked, situated as a bridge between the past and the future, as well as

the ways in which the present can be actively transformed (Kleist & Jansen, 2016). The

context of migration holds enormous potential as a locus in which anthropologists can

employ an analytical framework of hope to understand how aspirations for “the good

life,” or well-being, are met (Robbins, 2013). As an object of analysis, hope allows us to

better understand the different potential solutions that exist in the aspirations of

populations who humanitarian programs and outsiders seek as stuck, but who may indeed

not see themselves in this way (Appadurai, 2004; Kleist & Jansen, 2016). The conceptual

model, building on Appadurai’s (2004) and Bok’s (2010) use of the capacity to aspire

theoretical framework, that I develop in this dissertation situates how these aspirations set

79 into motion a range of strategies, projects, and innovations to achieve them and to resist the challenges of the present, and the navigational capacity (and menu and choice of available strategies) towards achieving aspirations is bolstered or hindered by socio- cultural expectations of women, and linked access to various forms of capital and structures.

Chapter 4: Methods

4.1 Entering the field and designing the dissertation research

Over a decade of experience living and working in the humanitarian sector in

Cameroon, Rwanda, and the Democratic Republic of Congo provided me with an initial insight into the culture and history of the region to complement the fieldwork conducted for this dissertation research. As discussed earlier (see Section 2.1.1 Resilience), the initial focus of this dissertation research was on resilience, a catch-phrase that was becoming increasingly common in the refugee services world. Through my efforts to understand the meaning of resilience within its context, and pursuant to an Iterative

Recursive Abductive (IRA) approach (Agar, 2006), during my first few months in the field other themes related to gender, household dynamics, aspirations, and linked strategies began to emerge and I followed those leads. I recursively would go back and forth between the data I was collecting, the themes I was developing, and remained open to following new and surprising leads (abductive logic). In this way, my ethnographic approach, multiple trips to the field, and the nature of following new leads as they emerged led me to shift my focus. Agar (2006) coined this ethnographic, data-driven approach to conducting research IRA logic. In this way, I was able to build an understanding of the capacity to aspire of Rwandan urban refugee women in Yaoundé grounded in the lived realities of my research participants.

The initial phase of this dissertation research was comprised of 6 months of ethnographic fieldwork, mainly participant observation, from May-August 2016 and

May-June 2017. This phase was aimed initially at examining how well-being and desired outcomes were pursued by refugee communities among urban refugees in Cameroon. I spent time with urban refugees participating in their daily economic and community activities, met with social service agencies, and conducted participant observation with mostly Rwandan refugees. In the early stages, I also engaged with Congolese, Central

African, and Chadian refugees, before deciding to focus on Rwandans (see Ch. 2 for more detail on why Rwandans became the focus of this dissertation). Prior to arriving in the field, I was unaware of the Cessation Clause, a clause built into the 1951 Geneva

Convention that results in refugees losing their right to remain refugees if the circumstances are deemed amenable to their return in their country of origin. However, upon engaging with Rwandan urban refugees, this emerged as a significant event and cause of anxiety in their community. The Cessation Clause was also often cited as eroding their community’s ability to continue to occupy the places that they had carved out for themselves, and creating an environment of distrust, effectively eroding social cohesion and networks among Rwandan urban refugees. Given how significantly this theme emerged early on, my participant observation increasingly explored how the households I engaged with were affected by this shock to their legal situation in

Cameroon.

Once I honed in my focus on Rwandan refugees, my initial research participants included men and women refugees from 30 Rwandan urban refugee households during

my initial participant observation. In order to capture household dynamics, I sampled multiple household members within a household (30 individuals from a sub-set of 16 of these initial households) for in-depth interviews, and conducted participant observation within households and with several members of each household in their daily activities outside of the home. All participants were older than 18, with ages ranging from 22-73 years old (see Table 1 in Chapter 5 for household characteristics). All were currently living in Yaoundé. Most of the refugees had been living in Cameroon for a decade or more, but a smaller proportion had arrived more recently, fleeing insecurity in countries where they were previously resettled including the Central African Republic and the

Republic of Congo.

The exploratory phase of my research shaped my dissertation’s research

questions. In the midst of complex vulnerability stemming from a range of structural

violence including legal precarity I aimed to understand: How do socio-cultural contexts and challenges of systemic disempowerment affect women household members’ capacity to aspire?

As I began to speak with members of communities, I heard the themes of structural violence including social suffering because of legal precarity among other challenges. Legal precarity represented a relatively new theme in the Rwandan refugee context, and the anxiety around it was shared across many households. This humanitarian policy change was also shifting their collective identity, from one of refugees with rightful status, to one of persons who felt victimized, or as if the world was turning their backs on their past suffering. For example, nearly every household that I engaged with

83 was worried about losing their refugee status and their right to international protection that they associated it with. Furthermore, as documented across the public health literature, it became evident that precarity in and of itself is gendered (Anderson-Fye,

2015; Camlin et al., 2018; Camlin et al., 2014; Cohen et al., 2005; Farmer, 1997; Krieger et al., 2003). Many of the women in the community had experienced rape, and several had contracted HIV as a result of sexual violence while fleeing Rwanda or once they had already resettled in Cameroon. I heard sentiments from the urban refugees I engaged with that humanitarian “resilience building programs” were not working for many refugees

(also see Yotebieng et al., 2018a). Despite these hardships, I also began to pick up on a pervasive theme of determination to make things work regardless of new obstacles. It was this latter theme of hope and aspirations that I focused on. Following abductive logic, I decided to pursue this important lead (Agar, 2006).

Among Rwandan urban refugees, because of the Cessation Clause, nearly every household I engaged with was struggling with the inability to send their children to school. Given the security situation in the country (see Section 2.2), police checkpoints that demanded valid government or United Nations issued identification were becoming more common, making it challenging to move freely in Cameroon with their refugee cards, and more complicated for my research participants who had already lost their refugee status, or were about to in December 2018.

Pursuant to the evidence needed in the context of my conceptual model of the capacity to aspire of Rwandan urban refugee women (see Section 3.2 for a visualization and description of the model), this dissertation uses ethnographic methods designed to

84 ascertain urban refugees’ aspirations, how aspirations these inform strategies and innovations in the present, and how these aspirations and available strategies to reach them are influenced by socio-cultural, political, and economic realities. The methods for this project are inspired by the participant observation and open-ended interviews used in research that highlights the aspirations of the world’s marginalized populations

(Appadurai, 2004; Bok, 2010; Bourdieu et al., 1999) practice theory in the context of the capacity to aspire and household dynamics (Bok 2010; Bourdieu et al., 1999; Lareau,

2002), and the ways by which individuals and communities conceive of and work towards the future (Appadurai, 2013; Hage, 2003).

In this dissertation research, I present detailed case studies illustrating the different ways gender and humanitarian policy affect the capacity to aspire. I subsequently make recommendations towards how to integrate these components into future research and programs aimed at understanding or serving urban refugees.

4.1.1 Household sub-units as the unit of analysis

In this research I use sub-units or groupings (usually dyads or triads) of persons that emerged organically through my participant observation within households as the unit of analysis. Intra-household dynamics within these sub-units determined decisions taken by individual household members, and visions for the future were often shared among household members. Furthermore, from an applied perspective, the majority of the meager social services that were offered were dispensed at the household level.

Focusing on the individual rather than the sub-units within households would leave out the important dynamics as to how aspirations are communally shaped and acted upon,

and from my observation, the household was the level at which this explicit and implicit

action towards aspirations is decided.

Households, however, are an emergent property, and not a fixed unit (Bender

1967; Cliggett, 2005; Dressler et al., 1985; Netting 1979; Netting et al., 1984).

Households do not look the same across contexts or even within a community (Randall &

Leone, 2011; Yotebieng & Forcone, 2018). For this reason, at the beginning of my work with each research participant (household member), I asked them questions about how

they define their households and who is considered to be a contributing member. I

observed closely knit sub-units within the households. For household members from

these close-knit groups that lived outside of Yaoundé, namely in Europe, the United

States, or Rwanda, I used WhatsApp, phone, or Skype to be able to engage with them as

well. I observed that diasporans were considered to be household members when they

either contributed financially to the household through sending remittances, or they were

working towards filing immigration paperwork for any or all family members that were

part of the household in Cameroon. Even in cases where diasporan household members

were not making direct financial contributions to the household, the hope that they would

when they were able to (e.g. finished with school, had a new job) often led households I

engaged with to still consider these diasporans as household members.

At times, household members were not direct family members. On the other hand,

at times even direct family members who did not make a substantial contribution or did

not appear to have any intention of doing so were not considered by the households I was

working with to be part of the household, but rather to be family members that had

“abandoned them and the household.”

4.1.2 Participant selection, sample size, and baseline characteristics

Yaoundé is a large city with an estimated population of 2.44 million people, of

which there are an estimated 25,000 urban refugees living across the city (UNHCR,

2018). With an estimated population of 2,500 in Yaoundé (UNHCR, 2015a), I focused on

Rwandan refugees and chose an initial 36 households using purposive and snowball

sampling (Bernard, 2011). Support for the early identification of households was provided by my existing contacts in the refugee community that I worked with during the exploratory phase of my dissertation research. I also collaborated with service providing agencies, such as the Trauma Centre Cameroon and RESPECT Cameroun, as places to refer or accompany any individuals who requested support. I used snowball sampling to identify other households in the community who may not have contact with the community leader that connected me to the initial households (Watters & Biernacki,

1989). I closely monitored who provided snowball referrals to ensure that one single participant did not refer more than one additional household within my sample. My later sub-sampling was driven by theoretical sampling on emergent themes where I focused my data collection on identifying households and household members that could provide more information on these emerging themes to achieve data saturation (Guest et al.,

2006). However, before these themes began to emerge my initial sample of households were purposively sampled based on characteristics that I initially theorized would lead to variations in the capacity to aspire, including gender of the head of household, level of

formal education, connectedness to social networks including different places of worship,

and refugee status (defined as if all members of the household are registered as a refugee

with the UNHCR).

Of the initial households, 21 out of 36 were female headed households. In my

sample, 21 out of 36 households were facing legal status issues related to the Cessation

Clause. In these households, at least one household member, and often multiple, had

recently had their requests to maintain their refugee status denied. The majority (26 out of

36 households) relied on small stores or hawking in the informal sector for their

livelihoods. The average household size was 4 persons in a 2 bedroom structure (range 1-

9 persons) (see Table 1 in Chapter 5 for more characteristics of the households). I focused

my research on households from lower socioeconomic groups which represented the

majority of the Rwandan urban refugee community in Cameroon. Detailed sketches of

the 16 sub-sampled households I focused on after theoretical sampling can be found in

the next chapter (see Section 5.2).

After identifying the sampled households, I first conducted a short, basic, demographic survey (of 36 households as outlined above) of all households to garner

basic demographic data including household composition, sources of livelihoods, legal

status, length of time in country, education levels, as well as the membership and

participation of individuals living outside the country in their household (see last page of

semi-structured interview form: Appendices A & B for survey tool, and Chapter 5 for

descriptive statistics on the initial sample). While many households supported and relied on support from others in their community in times of dire need, including health and

security issues, the households I worked with where otherwise independent units, and I

observed little overlap or household members belonging to multiple households.

After my initial participant observation I began theoretical sampling to further refine which sub-set of households I would focus on in the latter half of my research

(Charmaz, 2001, 2006; Corbin & Strauss, 2008). This theoretical sampling consisted of

me identifying informants that could provide information on emerging patterns in the

ways that gendered aspirations frame mobility and the minimization of related actions,

women household members intentionally avoiding becoming a burden or getting in the

way of others’ aspirations, and the way that aspirations allow for a reframing of the

temporality and end goals of coping strategies (or the ways that household members were

able to justify and cope with these coping strategies, including sex work as discussed in

Chapter 2).

From this theoretical sampling, I chose a focused sample of 16 households that

represented variations in these patterns of practices and outcomes to focus in on in my

ethnographic exploration of the gendered capacity to aspire. I sampled 30 individuals

from within these households (at least two people per household when there were at least

two adult household members) to participate in semi-structured interviews. Within a

single household, care was taken to sample participants who represented different

generational and gendered backgrounds. The sample size was informed by a dialectical

relationship between data collection and analysis to achieve theoretical saturation of the

above-referenced emergent themes related to aspirations, and their relationship to desired

outcomes (Charmaz, 2001, 2006; Guest et al., 2006). I paid particular attention to the

gendered and age-specific variation in aspirations of different household members, as I

wanted to understand how some household members’ aspirations may be prioritized over

others in household decisions.

4.1.3 Informed consent and study enrollment

After I identified households, I read a recruitment script in French which provided

participating household members with additional information on the research project. If

all adult (over the age of 18) household members were interested in participating, I

included them as a recruited household. Over the course of my research no adults in the

households I worked in refused to participate. As mentioned earlier (see Section 2.2.1),

when I met with the Rwandan refugee community, they were enthusiastic for me to focus

my research on them, as they felt they were being ignored or forgotten as manifested by

the Cessation Clause. They wanted their perspectives and experiences to be heard. While

I did not use separate informed consent documents for participant observation, I secured

verbal consent before any household member participated in the in-depth semi-structured interviews. I also repeatedly revisited the informed consent and recruitment script while spending time with households if they had any particular questions, or appeared to think that there would be additional benefits to their participation which I could not provide.

4.1.4 Participant observation

One of the arguably signature methods of ethnography is participant observation.

Ortner (1995, 2006) suggests that ethnography is an ideal approach to study and expand

the ways in which agency and resistance occur in less obvious but more common ways

among marginalized populations. Participant observation was the principle method used

during this dissertation research. Over the course of my research, I came to a newfound

appreciation for the richness of data garnered from participant observation. Indeed, the

data from my short demographic survey and semi-structured interviews paled in comparison to the observations of actual practice and lived realities of research participants that participant observation afforded me.

To understand intra-household dynamics and continue to build trust, I employed participant observation while I was starting in-depth interviews. Participant observation has been described as an “apt approach” for studying the ways in which practices are informed by aspirations (Haugen, 2016: 110 see also Ortner, 1995). This is because participant observation allows for observation of what is done rather than what is said during interviews. Participant observation allowed me to connect responses to the semi- structured interview questions on aspirations to actions of household members by asking questions related to interview responses, and to uncover cases where what people said did not always match what they do. Furthermore, it was a way to observe practices that were being taken that were often not discussed during semi-structured interviews. Participant observation also allowed me to analyze the different strategies taken by different household members towards achieving their aspirations, and to observe some of the emotional aspects of aspirations and hope, including caretaking, that are not always readily discussed during in-depth interviews.

During participant observation sessions, I asked household members about their aspirations, or what they valued and were striving for in their lives. I also tried to understand their daily activities, and how these related in different ways to their

aspirations. During these daily activities, I documented interactions, such as

conversations, disagreements, or joint activities between household members, that I found significant. As I developed trust, I also accompanied households and their members in daily activities outside the home, including participating in community meetings and events (churches, etc.). I would then document interactions between research participants and any community members, humanitarian service providers, or other authorities that I thought may represent greater or less access to capital. Emerging findings from this initial participant observation helped me to refine and finalize my semi-structured interview instrument as well as my sampling for the in-depth case studies. If household members had been denied or still had pending refugee status (which were usually later rejected), I asked questions and observed changes in practices and shifting of priorities that occurred within households.

I also used my time during participant observation to map out kinship charts and household compositions as well as how they were connected to other households and broader social networks. I observed and included in my fieldnotes differences in discourse within the household, paying attention to topics and who seems to talk to who in order to understand the power-laden reality of discourse including who sets the tone, who defines the terms, and what is acceptable to think or do. Furthermore, I observed and included in my fieldnotes the moods of different household members and activities that represent actions being taken towards short or long-term goals (for example, if some individuals took time away from selling at the market to study for higher education). I took daily fieldnotes, including photographs (see Appendix J for sample photographs) to

jog my memory of details within the household, during fieldwork, and I included notes in

my fieldnotes on potential emergent themes (Emerson et al., 2011; LeCompte and

Schensul, 2010). I carried a notebook around with me and would first try to draw a rough

sketch of the place where I was conducting participant observation, and jot down notes or

key phrases that I thought were important in relation to my broader research questions. I

would then take these scratch-notes and immediately find a place to sit down at my

apartment or a coffee shop to type them out and clean them up so that they could later be

referred to and coded.

As I moved forward with semi-structured interviews (see below), my participant

observation continued and began to focus more on the actions that household members I

interviewed were taking to meet their aspirations. Over the course of my fieldwork, I took

note if there seemed to be significant variation within households, or between households

in terms of their capacity to aspire and if this appeared to be contingent on differential

access to various forms of capital. My participant observation and semi-structured interviews (see below) increasingly narrowed in on the opportunities and obstacles in the capacity to aspire of the women in the households.

4.1.5 Semi-structured interviews

I then employed individual, semi-structured interviews in participant homes with

30 adult (<18) household members from the 16 sub-sampled households. Speaking with

different individuals, varied by gender and age, within the household allowed me to

understand variation in aspirations, strategies to achieve them, and how these conflicted

or corresponded with other household members’ aspirations and strategies. I also linked

93 the interviews with the basic quantitative demographic data from the short survey including household members’ gender, age, and their legal status in order to contextualize their responses and see if there were gendered or age-related differences.

Ethnographic interviews explored the research participant’s aspirations, and plans to reach them. Questions also gauged the different forms of capital that households have access to, and how this varied within households by age or gender. Questions included what their long-term aspirations are, and how they are attained or impeded; and their strategies or plans to successfully manage their needs and achieve their aspirations, including the management of legal status issues that may impede access to schools, jobs, or other resources. Additionally, I probed for real or hypothetical scenarios on how some households in their community have been able to achieve relative success and how these examples have shaped their own aspirations (precedents) (for sample questions, see instruments in Appendices A & B). Each household member interviewed linked their aspirations with what well-being meant for her/him, and why and how s/he planned on achieving it. This included household members talking about how they defined the “good life,” including underlining issues related to their health, continuing their studies, work, and intimate relationships.

When I first entered the field, I was advised by one of my key informants not to ask about the past, as he suggested it would turn people away from wanting to talk to me.

However, I found that even without prompting, once I sat down with my research participants for interviews, they immediately launched into their stories. In the end, I was glad that my research participants insisted that their life histories be shared, despite this

not being data I initially intended to gather. Life histories, collected over multiple interactions with research participants, provide a level of depth including how research participants remember and make meaning of their current circumstances that are not possible to get through open-ended interviews alone (Ochs & Capps, 1996). It was my research participants’ insistence on needing to understand “the whole story” in order to understand the present and future that led me to present my research in the form of vignettes.

While I initially planned to conduct these interviews independently, once I started them, it became clear that household members’ preference was to do the interview together. While I was in a room or on a porch interviewing someone, another household member would come over, sit down comfortably, and join the conversation. The joint interviews allowed me to gather rich data that included dynamics, disagreements, and corroborations between household members that I would note in my scratch-notes.

However, I also realized that more sensitive questions, or responses that may hurt the feelings of other household members were not adequately broached through joint interviews. In cases where I felt this happening, I made a note to return to some of these questions in my ongoing discussions during participant observation with the different household members.

These joint interviews, combined with data from ongoing discussion and time spent with household members during participant observation, also allowed me to observe what was said and not said. In fact, at times if one interviewee did not bring something up, the other household member did, demonstrating potentially different

priorities. All interviews were audio recorded and complemented by fieldnotes and

participant observation from multiple visits with household members, both together and

separately. While transcribing, I began memoing my impressions, identified gaps, and

information that I did not understand while in the field so as to trigger my memory to

follow-up on key aspects of the conversations or interactions that needed to be pursued further.

4.1.6 Data analysis

In order to provide an overview of the population, I first coded the quantitative data from the basic demographic survey and created a simple Excel database. I used

SPSS and analyzed this data for descriptive statistics related to household compositions, time in country, household member legal status and education level, employment, and health issues facing them that would provide an overview of the population (see Chapter

5 for results). Because of the small sample size, I did not attempt to conduct any further

statistical tests of this data.

Interviews were audio recorded, transcribed, and imported with fieldnotes into

MaxQDA for data management and analysis (Emerson et al., 2011; Kuckartz, 2014).

Each household and individual within the household was first given a unique identifier

that followed it throughout the research, in order to keep track of patterns within and between households. I created separate folders in MaxQDA for each household that

included all of the household’s associated fieldnotes and transcripts.

I then developed an open coding scheme based on emergent themes in the data

(Ryan & Bernard, 2003). I read through all of the transcripts, fieldnotes, took notes on

themes, and developed a draft codebook. While I did not use a grounded theory approach,

my initial approach to data analysis was guided by the principles of guided theory

(Charmaz, 2006). I first conducted a line-by-line initial coding scheme on 2 of 30 transcripts in order to develop a first draft of the code book with detailed definitions for each code and sub-code in MaxQDA. Key codes that emerged included: uncertainty (sub- code for legal security/Cessation Clause), mother-child relationship, chronic health, psychological distress, death, migration/moving, UNHCR, strategies (with a sub-code for risk that included sex-work, non-compliance to health issues, clandestine migration, theft), age/generational, gender obligations, love and marriage (with sub-code intimate relationships), livelihoods (sub-code informal sector), other structures (with sub-codes education, access to work), well-being, and household dynamics (sub-code for in-vivo expression “abandonment.” I also included additional in-vivo codes such as “becoming a burden,” “God will help us,” “I didn’t have a choice,” “at least we have solidarity,” and

“we are just waiting.” I then applied these codes to all transcripts in order to test and expand on the initial codes. The code book was continuously revised as new interviews were coded if additional important sub-themes emerged (DeCuir-Gunby, Marshall, &

McCulloch, 2011). I also wrote memos to draw attention to remarkable events and identify relationships emerging between codes, and revised the codebook as new themes or sub-themes emerged.

My qualitative data analysis procedures allow me to put forward an ethnographically informed theoretical explanation of the process that links aspirations to strategies to achieve them, and the socio-cultural and political economic factors affecting

both the construction of aspirations, and the decisions of strategies to achieve them as

laid out in the conceptual model of the capacity to aspire of Rwandan urban refugee

women developed for this dissertation (see Figure 1 in Section 3.2). I examined the subjective hope and aspirations of my research participants, and the corresponding actions that were taken. Context is critical in my conceptual model, so I paid particular

attention to anything (capital, structures, socio-cultural expectations of women) in the

broader context that appeared to impede or support the capacity to aspire of Rwandan

urban refugee women.

During data analysis, I explored if there was significant variation within

households, or between households in terms of their capacity to aspire. This included examining differential aspect to various forms of capital and important structures like the

UNHCR (with a proxy being if they still had their refugee status). From this analysis, I

propose links between women’s capacity to aspire and their broader socio-cultural and

political economic contexts through three broad themes, connecting these to other sub-

themes that emerged under the umbrella of these broad themes. I illustrate these links

through the presentation of in-depth case studies of a sub-set of 16 households that I worked with as presented in the following chapters of this dissertation. The three main vignettes illustrated through three case studies serve to illustrate the broad themes. These themes are reinforced, and sub-themes are developed through examples from other households.

4.2 Ethical considerations

I secured IRB approval via The Ohio State University (Protocol #2015B0496) and my Cameroonian research permit (N 00000029/MINRESI/B00/C00/C10/C12) which ensured that the Cameroonian government was aware of and approved the implementation of my research. Over the course of my research, I constantly revisited ethical considerations related to asking refugees to tell their stories, and how I represented them and myself in my research. On many occasions my refugee research participants, often complaining about the UNHCR, would ask me, “How many times do I need to tell my story to a stranger while crying in order to be deemed worthy to be a refugee?” Refugees often have to prove their needs and situations beyond a doubt in order to be given refugee status, and corresponding services that they may need. While I did not ask people to tell their entire life histories, they often came out as soon as I sat down, with force. I realized that refugees were so used to having to prove themselves and their worthiness of their status on first encounters with foreigners, that there was no way of avoiding listening to their stories. As my research participants asked me this question,

I kept asking myself, to what extent was I part of that problem?

Another important ethical consideration that I, like many, who work with refugees encountered was a sense of heightened expectations. Despite clear informed consent and explanation of what I could and could not offer, everyone seemed to think that talking with me would bring them something. During my first trip to the field, my phone rang non-stop with refugees who wanted to meet me, and as I came back during the following two fieldwork trips, I started to hear rumors that I had promised different projects to

refugees but had not honored them. Of course, to the best of my knowledge I did not

make any plans to implement programs with any of my research participants and was

very transparent with research participants about the aim, scope, and potential risks,

benefits or lack thereof of my research. My fieldnotes from the first phase of my research

in May 2016 demonstrates a vivid example of the hope that hinged on my presence

regardless of what I said I could or could not do:

(Excerpt from Yotebieng fieldnotes): He (a 59-year-old Rwandan refugee man)

seemed to think that in the U.S. or Europe, they could be protected from those

who may be wanting to harm them. He emphasized that in that future he wanted,

the reason he wanted resettlement elsewhere so bad, was to have “la paix et la

securite” (peace and security). Once again, I also realized how much hope hinged

on my presence, even though I literally could do little to nothing for his refugee

status. I underlined that again, but talked about some of the broader goals in terms

of improving humanitarian assistance models that I had in mind.

On another occasion, while meeting with Jeannette (see Chapter 7’s case study on

Becoming a burden) to say goodbye a week before I was leaving the field, I arrived where I usually got out from my taxi, and before I headed up the street towards her house, nestled deep within an informal settlement situated behind a gare routiere where travel agencies fought over passengers headed towards the economic capital of Douala, I heard her call my name. I looked over to find her and her two sons sitting at a bar on the main street. I was surprised, as they do not drink alcohol, and most of my interactions with them had occurred at their house. When I sat down with them, Jeannette asked me if

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I knew why I was not meeting them at her house, and then launched into how her

landlord had asked her why the “useless white woman” kept coming around, underlining

that over the three years I had gotten to know them, their situation had not improved and

the legal situation of her son was still in limbo. She tried to reassure me that she did not feel this way about me or our relationship, but I was left with doubts. After discussing this with another anthropology Ph.D. student that I spent time with periodically in

Yaoundé, she agreed with me that Jeannette’s words may have been a polite way of expressing some of her own frustrations with unmet expectations that came out of our relationship.

Needless to say, this made me feel terrible as a former public health professional

and an anthropologist who wants to do applied work. However, I realized that no matter

how many times you explain your research, its purpose, and the benefits, there is always

hope hinging on telling one’s story to another person, particularly an American who had

previously worked in the humanitarian sector. I was quite uncomfortable with being a

disengaged researcher. While I did offer compensation for the time commitment that was involved in participating in interviews, this seemed insignificant in relation to the larger aspirations of the refugees I was working with. I also ensured that when I observed

serious needs, I would engage the UNHCR or other social service agencies to bring them

up, in hopes that any small push I could do would help to raise the profile of a situation

that seemed dire to me.

On a personal note, security and gender also came-up on several occasions as

issues that needed to be addressed. While I only once felt my security threatened in the

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field when a woman with a mental illness ran over to me and pushed me over, I had

initially planned on conducting fieldwork with a Cameroonian research assistant.

However, this proved challenging to organize in terms of logistics and with the means

available to me, and I noted that the few times I brought him with me, my research

participants did not seem entirely at ease. I sensed they wondered if he would tell

someone about their problems or legal status. For these reasons, I opted to have my

research assistant just help with transcription of some of my semi-structured interviews,

and most of the time I went to the field alone. My decision to do this limited the

interaction that I could have with adult male household members. They were often

available to participate in interviews, but the expectation was that I, as a young, married

woman, should be spending my time with the women and children in the household. On

one occasion when I did accompany a male household member to his workplace, he

offered to buy me a drink and afterwards I heard people talking about how he was

interested in me. For this reason, and to avoid any potential conflicts, I focused my

interactions mostly with children over the age of 18 and women in the households, and

have more limited direct interview and conversational data from men with three notable

exceptions where I was able to build relationships in the field with adult male household

members.

In terms of logistics, depending on my research participant’s legal status, some

participants were not comfortable with conversations being recorded. While I emphasized that I would not share names and accentuated confidentiality, I preferred not to push on

102 this point, and instead took copious notes as soon as I got home to try and capture the essence of the interview.

Lastly, but importantly, I still struggle with how exactly to represent refugees in my work. While I do not want to focus on their suffering, I do not want my work to be misinterpreted to sending a message that we should just let everyone figure things out on their own, and that all they need is hope to succeed. My research participants in particular were often uncomfortable with journalists and the ways that they were represented by journalists, so I had to be careful in what I shared and did not with them, as well as how I represented them, and made sure that I was clear relating to my positionality and potential shortfalls or misunderstandings in my publications. In order to mitigate these potential risks, all of my publications on this work have been shared with two of my research participants who are also university students so that they could provide their feedback. At my in-country presentations in Cameroon, I also regularly invited them and asked them to share their feedback on portrayals and possible misunderstandings and opportunities to improve them. Overall those who participated would usually express to me that they welcomed the focus away from their suffering and vulnerability in my research, and would usually only offer their thoughts on the anonymous quotes or vignettes that I presented, or correct a detail related to the context (usually related to dates and timeline of the Cessation Clause or other significant events).

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Chapter 5: The capacity to aspire in context: research participant characteristics, broad, and sub-themes

5.1 Socio-demographic characteristics of household members

In this chapter I will present the overall characteristics of my research sample, as well as some of the broad themes that emerged, some of the sub-themes that emerged under these broad themes, and over-arching sub-themes that I identified across all households. I will then delve into the broad themes through the vignettes at the beginning of each in-depth case study and corresponding complementary data from other households in the first two sections of Chapters 6-8. I will then analyze these themes while including the sub-themes and additional themes that emerged in each case study within my conceptual model of the capacity to aspire in the discussion. This chapter will set the stage towards understanding the overall demographic characteristics of the households, and providing a glimpse into these themes that will be further elaborated and linked back to my conceptual model (see Section 3.2 for the visualization and description of the conceptual model used in this dissertation).

In order to obtain a broader understanding of the characteristics of the community, I conducted a small, basic survey with 36 households from which my sub- sample was taken. The intention of this survey was mainly to give myself and my readers a descriptive overview of the composition of the Rwandan urban refugee community in

Yaoundé. However, as my sub-sample was selected based on theoretical sampling related

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to emerging themes, I recognize that it excludes portions of the Rwandan refugee

community. The 36 households presented in this survey come from the larger Rwandan

urban refugee community in Yaoundé with substantially less economic capital who are

the focus of my research and are not inclusive of the elite businessmen that I did not

engage within the context of this research. I will provide further detail on the 16

households included in my sub-sample through which the majority of the data for this dissertation was garnered via brief household sketches (see Table 2 in Section 5.2).

Results from the overall quantitative survey revealed that the majority of heads of household among Rwandan urban refugees were women (58%), with an average age of

44 years (range: 23-72). This was unsurprising as most of the households I observed were women-headed. Nearly half, 39% (n=14), of heads of households reported at least a high school education and only 17% (n=6) reported regular employment outside of the informal sector (the informal sector includes small shop owners or employees) while 11%

(n=4) were unemployed. The majority (61%) of heads of households were either unmarried (including widowed) or married but living separately, most often in different countries (n=22). The average household size was 4 and length of time in country was 14 years. Most (58%) of households (n=21) reported having challenges with at least one person in their household who had recently had their refugee status rejected or where the decision was still pending, even after many years. Increasing their challenges, over half of the households surveyed (n=20) reported having at least one member with a chronic healthcare condition that they needed to spend significant money on a regular basis.

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Overall, this survey provides a glimpse into the overall context and living conditions of the Rwandan urban refugee community in Yaoundé. The heads of households were mainly women, and most households were experiencing economic challenges because of lack of capital, access to education, and the management of chronic illness in the household. Furthermore, most households were affected by the Cessation

Clause, further complicating these economic issues as the change in legal status impeded access to employment and healthcare.

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Table 1: Household Characteristics

Variable Overall (n=36) Household characteristics Number of years in Yaoundé (interquartile 14 (2-23) range; IQR) Average number of people living in household 4 (1-9) Number of people contributing to household 2 (0-4) income Household member with chronic illness 20 (55.6%) Household refugee status All registered refugees 15 (42%) Mixed status (some have status, others 8 (22%) pending or rejected) Decision pending 3 (8%) Everyone undocumented (refugee status 7 (19%) rejected) Receiving assistance from UNHCR 8 (22%) Household members in the diaspora 12 (33%) Remittances received from abroad 5 (14%) Head of household characteristics Age in years; median (interquartile range; IQR) 44 (23-72) Gender Male 15 (42%) Female 21 (58%) Marital status Married and living together 14 (39%) Married and living separately 3 (8%) Divorced/separated 6 (17%) Single 7 (19%) Widowed 5 (14%) Not married but living together 1 (3%) Highest level of education: Completed primary school 22 (61%) Completed high school 7 (19%) Completed vocational/college/university 7 (19%) Occupation Shop owner or employee 9 (25%) Informal sector (hawking, cleaning clothes, 17 (47%) etc.) Healthcare 2 (6%) Education sector 2 (6%) University student 2 (6%) Unemployed 4 (11%)

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5.2 Main household sketches

I chose a sub-sample of 16 households based on theoretical sampling, choosing households and household members that could provide further insight on emerging

themes. Below, I provide a brief sketch of the 16 households that I focused on for my in-

depth case studies. Throughout this dissertation, pseudonyms are used to protect the

confidentiality of research participants.

Table 2: Sketches of 16 Sub-sampled Households

Household number Short description Households from main vignettes Household 7: Ernestine and 19 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Ernestine and her daughter Concilie made Concilie (Case Study 1) up this household after the death of Ernestine’s husband in Cameroon. Their story is the focus of the main vignette in Case Study 1 (Broad Theme 1). Chronic health conditions in this household included Ernestine’s anxiety attacks and hypertension. Household 4: Jeannette, 6 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Jeannette and her two sons, Pierre and Pierre, and Bernard (Case Bernard who arrived in 2016, made up this household. Their story is the focus Study 2) of the main vignette in Case Study 2 (Broad Theme 2). Chronic health conditions in this household include Jeannette’s HIV, hypertension, and diabetes. Household 5: Ivoire, Armand, 20 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Ivoire and her three children, Anastasie, Anastasie, Sophie, and Jean Sophie, and Jean, made up this household after the death of Ivoire’s husband (Case Study 3) in Cameroon. Their story is the focus of the main vignette in Case Study 3 (Broad Theme 3). Chronic health conditions in this household included Ivoire’s hypertension, Anastasie’s heart failure, and Sophie’s sinus cancer. Other households Household 1: Constant, his 23 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Constant was one of the few household wife and two children, and members that had a job in the formal sector, as a professor at a local his brother (male-headed university. He also was working on his graduate education. He was formerly a household) leader in the community, and one of my key informants. He was the only community member I engaged with who was married to a non-Rwandan (his wife was from the Republic of Congo). He lived with his two elementary school aged sons and his brother who was living with a mental disability after the murder of their father during the genocide. They were one of the few households where all of the members except his wife (as she was not Rwandan) were exempt from the Cessation Clause and would be able to remain refugees even after the expiration of the Cessation Clause in December 2018 as Constant’s father was former military. Other than Constant’s brother’s mental health condition, this household did not have any additional chronic health conditions.

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Household 2: Victoire, her 2 23 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Victoire was very active in the urban sons, and 2 daughters refugee community, and was the president of an association for refugee women. She had not seen her husband in many years, as she noted he was hiding. She lived with her high-school aged son and two daughters who were both pursuing post-secondary education. Her oldest son lived in Yaoundé and was considered part of the household but lived with roommates from his engineering program elsewhere. They were one of the few households where all of the members were exempt from the Cessation Clause and would be able to remain refugees even after the expiration of the Cessation Clause in December 2018 as Victoire’s husband had been former military. Chronic health conditions in this household included Victoire’s hypertension. Household 3: Antoinette and 9 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Antoinette considered herself the head of her daughter and 2 sons household as she was the grandmother and matriarch of the family. She had returned to Rwanda once after fleeing, but found herself falsely accused, sent to jail where she was raped, and fled again once she was released, learning that she was HIV positive once she arrived in Cameroon. Over the course of the three years of my dissertation research, I first met her when she was living alone with support from her daughter (who lived in France) and her two sons (both living in Yaoundé). Towards the end of my research she had moved in with her older adult son in order to help him take care of his children (her grandchildren). Despite living in separate houses across two countries, they considered themselves one household. They had supported the education of the children in Household 9. The household members had mixed refugee status, but the few that had refugee status were set to lose it at the end of 2018 with the Cessation Clause. Chronic health conditions in this household included Antoinette’s hypertension as well as her HIV mentioned above. Household 6: Francoise and 19 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Francoise lived with her two sons at the her two sons beginning of my fieldwork, but by the end both had moved out, one to live with his employer in the Central African Republic where he was doing manual labor, and the other to live with some of his Central African friends in Yaoundé. The latter son had gotten a Cameroonian girl pregnant, and Francoise suspected that the girl and baby were living with him and his Central African friends, as she had refused to let them live with her. Francoise had previously lived in Douala until her husband died and her brother, who had been resettled in the United States, had tried to help her get resettled in the United States. However, when she moved to Yaoundé she quickly learned that she was not eligible for resettlement as the UNHCR claimed her brother could not sponsor her, and her living situation had become increasingly difficult over the years, where she moved from a relatively middle-class household, to a slum-dweller. All of them had refugee status but were expecting to lose it at the end of 2018 with the Cessation Clause. Chronic health conditions in this household included Francoise’s hypertension and her older son’s vision problems. Household 8: Valerie and her 12 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Valerie lived in a slum settlement with her daughter daughter, and survived through small jobs in the informal sector including washing clothes for neighbors, supplemented by sex work as needed. She was HIV positive and her daughter had recently dropped out of school after she was raped by two of her classmates. Her daughter’s father had been abusive, and they fled the Republic of Congo, where they previously had been living, in order to get away from his abuse. They both had refugee status but were 109

expecting to lose it at the end of 2018 with the Cessation Clause. Chronic health conditions in this household included Valerie’s HIV and hypertension. Household 9: Xavier and 15 years in Cameroon as of 2018. This household was one of the few that Bernadette with their consisted of the mother, father, and all of their children, despite the fact that children (male-headed two of their children (Marcelle and their son who is now a medical doctor) household) were separated from the rest of them on their journey to Cameroon, but they were reunited after arriving in Yaoundé with support from the Red Cross. Three of their children lived with them, including Marcelle who was married over the course of my fieldwork to a Rwandan refugee living in Canada and was working on her papers to relocate there by the end of 2018. Their two older sons lived and worked outside of the home but contributed to the household, one as a journalist based in London, the other as a medical doctor based in another region of Cameroon. Household 3 had supported the three older children (doctor, psychologist, and journalist) with their education. All members of the family except the father had refugee status, but it was set to expire at the end of December 2018 because of the Cessation Clause. Chronic health conditions in this household included Bernadette’s hypertension and diabetes. Household 10: Elisabeth and 10 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Elisabeth lived with her son and daughter in her son and daughter a slum dwelling. When I first met them, her husband was living with them, but after the first year of my fieldwork he relocated to the Republic of Congo to work, but she had never heard from him again and was worried he either did not want to financially support them anymore, or was dead. Elisabeth engaged in sex work for a living in order to send her son and daughter to school. She made it clear that her son, especially, was her hope for the future as she thought he would take care of her once he was done with his studies and became a medical doctor. They are all undocumented as their refugee status was rejected because of the Cessation Clause. Chronic health conditions in this household included Elisabeth’s disability resulting from a machete attack to her arm. Household 11: Jean de Dieu, 15 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Jean de Dieu was previously married when his wife, and 2 daughters he fled Rwanda, but his wife and unborn child died in the forest in the (male-headed household) Democratic Republic of Congo, and he was forced to continue without them. He first fled to the Central African Republic, and because of increasing insecurity there, fled again to Cameroon where he met his current wife. They live with two children and are all undocumented as their refugee status was rejected because of the Cessation Clause. Jean de Dieu was living with a physical handicap which he spent significant borrowed money on and resulted in his family losing their store, and his daughters to not be able to go to school. Chronic health conditions in this household revolved around Jean de Dieu’s foot mentioned earlier, as well as his hypertension. Household 12: Lila, her 8 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Lila lived with her boyfriend and her three boyfriend, her 3 sons, and young children. Her youngest child was the son of her boyfriend, the other another unrelated Rwandan two were the children from her previous, abusive, boyfriend that she was refugee studying in fleeing when she left the Republic of Congo to take refuge in Cameroon. Her Cameroon (male-headed oldest and youngest son were both diagnosed with autism and required household) special schooling, a source of frequent stress and crying during my interactions with her. Her boyfriend had also become verbally abusive and largely absent, making Lila feel like she was living in a female-headed household, as he blamed her for her youngest son’s autism since her oldest 110

son (with a different father) also had it. Lila and her 3 sons had refugee status, but not her boyfriend or the other girl living in their house. However, she was expecting for them to lose their refugee status under the Cessation Clause in December 2018. Chronic health conditions in this household included Lila’s hypertension and diabetes. Household 13: Belle and her 5 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Belle and Juvenal had fled the Central African husband Juvenal, 4 sons and Republic, where they had previously been living as registered Rwandan 1 daughter (male-headed refugees, to Cameroon with the increasing insecurity in the Central African household) Republic. The Rwandan community had supported them with some capital to open a small store which they operated mainly on credit. One of their sons had an intellectual disability, and two had chronic allergy issues including asthma. One of the other sons had recently had a sinus surgery which did not go well and he was now living with a physical handicap. All of them except for the two older sons still had pending refugee status which they expected to be rejected after the rejection of the two older sons’ refugee status. Chronic health conditions in this household included Belle’s hypertension, and Juvenal’s and the older son’s allergies/asthma. Household 14: Jacques, his 18 years in Cameroon as of 2018. This household had a small store and wife, and 2 sons (male- Jacques also drove a clandestine taxi to make extra money. His wife had headed household) previously worked as a nurse, but was unable to find a job as a nurse that did not exploit her status as a refugee to excuse paying her less, so she decided to work in their store. Their two sons were in high school, and one had just completed his national exams. They were hoping to be resettled in the United States and had been working with a church in Texas for several years to do so, but it appeared that they had reached a dead end. They were one of the few households where all of the members were exempt from the Cessation Clause and would be able to remain refugees even after the expiration of the Cessation Clause in December 2018. Chronic health conditions in this household included Jacques’ hypertension. Household 15: Celestin and 22 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Celestin lived with his son who was studying his son (male-headed at the university. Celestin was a traditional healer, and also raised livestock household) including chickens and ducks, and had a small omelet stand set-up in front of his house as a means of making a living. He had spent time in jail for corruption in Rwanda prior to coming to Cameroon, and was part of the family of the former president, but seems to have been ostracized by the rest of his family who was living mostly in Europe but not providing any support to him or his son. Both of them were undocumented as their refugee status applications had been rejected by the UNHCR. Chronic health conditions in this household included Celestin’s diabetes and hypertension which he managed through traditional medicine. Household 16: Jean Bosco, 4 years in Cameroon as of 2018. Jean Bosco was supporting his ailing his grandmother, and young grandmother. After my second year of fieldwork, he met and married the family (male-headed sister of the Rwandan storeowner (from a higher socioeconomic group) that household) employed him, and at the time of writing this dissertation, they had one baby and another on the way. All of this household was undocumented, as they had fled to Cameroon after the Central African Republic, and had their refugee applications rejected in Cameroon as the Cessation Clause was already in effect. Chronic health conditions in this mother included Jean Bosco’s grandmother’s hypertension and diabetes.

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5.3 Broad themes and sub-themes

In the following 3 chapters, I present 3 in-depth case studies. Each case study starts with a vignette from a different household that represents one of the three broad themes that emerged from this dissertation as essential to understanding women’s capacity to aspire in the Rwandan urban refugee context.

The first theme (see Case Study 1) that emerged is linked with socio-cultural expectations of Rwandan women and underlined that strategies engaged towards aspirations are often linked to potentially life changing scenarios for children in the household. Linked with the conceptual model of this dissertation, these strategies are inextricably linked with access to various forms of capital by women, as well as their ability (or not) to read the map towards their aspirations which is linked with their access to important structures like the UNHCR, social capital, and often lack of precedents or role-models that have achieved success. Under this theme the sub-themes of tapping into social networks for loans or gifts, seeking marriage for security, leaving (particularly for the United States or Europe), sexual violence and the safety of women and girls, and forgiveness emerged.

The second theme (see Case Study 2) that emerged was related to socio-cultural expectations of sacrifice that are linked with women’s capacity to aspire through the ways in which women explicitly articulated and demonstrated the ways in which they needed to avoid becoming burdens to their children. Under this theme, the sub-themes of psychological distress related to not being able to fulfill socio-cultural expectations as central to women’s aspirations, the significant barriers that legal precarity placed on

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access to capital and key structures including the UNHCR, and the continual striving for independence and dignity emerged.

The final theme (see Case Study 3) that emerged underlined the way that a future

orientation and maintaining hope is a way of coping with challenging circumstances in

the present. In this way, hope continues to drive actions and the idea that they can and

will move forward as a household, rather than get stuck in a vicious circle of worrying

about the structural and physical violence that often enshrouds their lives. Sub-themes

that emerged under this theme included coping with death, the burden of chronic health

issues, and the ways in which hope was fueled and bolstered by faith and access to capital

emerged.

I focused on three widow-led households in the vignettes that represent themes

that are common across the community. After each vignette, I bring in examples from the

other 13 households from my sub-sample, including male-headed households. In the context of these three broad themes, several overarching sub-themes emerged related to

(1) the structural considerations of women and girls; (2) the roles of faith as a form of social and cultural capital and (3) social networks as a form of social capital and access to key structures in the context of women’s capacity to aspire.

5.3.1 Sub-theme theme 1: Structural and physical violence against women

While the first broad theme delves into the ways in which the socio-cultural expectations of women inform aspirations, access to capital and societal structures, and their strategies, another important sub-theme that is an essential backdrop to the map, or field, that women are aspiring within are the substantial structural forms of structural and

113 physical violence that women and girls experience in this context. Across the women and girls that I worked with over the course of this research, exposure to past or current sexual violence, considerable safety concerns, and constraints in accessing capital were important factors that emerged. These factors are important to understand because of the physical and emotional trauma that may result in exposure to these forms of violence, and the limited availability or access to structures that women and girls may be able to access to support them, especially in cases where they lost access to the UNHCR because of the loss of their refugee status. Exposure to violence could also lead to eroding hope, or an impetus to undertake strategies towards aspirations that others in the community may not have to take.

Chronic health problems were especially prevalent among women, and were often linked with women prioritizing others over self (linked with socio-cultural expectations), including in choices made towards addressing their health problems. Mothers would often cut back on their health expenses if it meant being able to invest in other household members, particularly their children. One advantage of the longitudinal design of this research was that it allowed for these changes in aspirations over time to be observed, allowing these key themes to emerge. Jeannette, a 60-year-old widow living with diabetes, HIV, and hypertension, fled Rwanda in different directions than her two sons the night her husband was killed in her home. Her households’ story is the focus of Case

Study 2 (see Chapter 8). When I met her, her aspirations were focused both on maintaining her own health and her sons being together again. When they were effectively reunited by the time I saw her a year later, their hopes had shifted towards

114 what they would be able to achieve in the context of Yaoundé and the uncertain refugee status of her younger son, now that they were together. While her health issues were serious and caused her much physical pain, she began to cut back on her health expenses in order to support her sons. When I asked her towards the end of my fieldwork about her health, she told me that it did not matter as much anymore now that her sons where there.

Their problems took precedent over her continued care of her health that she was focused on when I first met her.

In most of the households I spent time with, there were often a few people whose well-being was central to the aspirations of the rest of the household members. This usually included children. Present through all of the conversations, both explicitly and implicitly, was a strong theme of the mother as being expected to bear the ultimate sacrifice in the face of hardship. At times, when I explicitly asked mothers what their hopes were for the future, they would immediately launch into their hopes for others in their household, notably their children. Marcelle’s mother, a 60-year-old woman named

Bernadette, explained to me:

First, when we got out of the forest of Zaire, I had lost all hope. But, when I

looked at the heads of my children, and the responsibility that I have, that gave

me strength and courage, and God helped me through my prayers. Now, all these

years later, my life is over really. I don’t have any specific hope for me. Now my

hope is to see my children advance. Even when they were studying and we were

living in terrible conditions, I encouraged and pushed them not to fail. When one

of them failed, it hurt me, but I could never tell them that it hurt me. For now,

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relatively, life is easier. I can’t say that I am ever in need of food. I still encourage

the youngest to not fail, but honestly, I am really tired. I am just encouraging them

to finish soon so that I can just rest. I gave them all that I could, and by the grace

of God, I think it worked out well.

Here, I should mention that the joint interviews (see Section 4.1.7) conducted in the household helped to collect richer data than I may have been able to collect any other way. This included helping me uncover and analyze this overarching sub-theme. These joint interviews allowed me to observe interactions between household members, including probing questions that I was not planning on asking. In one instance, while I was having a joint conversation with a Bernadette, her daughter Marcelle, and her husband, Bernadette hardly interjected, and when I asked her explicitly what her hopes or aspirations were, she just talked about her kids. Marcelle, however, interrupted and looked at her mother, saying, “And you, you must have hopes too, right?” To this

Bernadette shook her head and said, “When you become a mother, you just throw your own (aspirations) out the window.” I nodded slightly, but then Marcelle kept pressing on, saying that she did not think that was necessarily true, and asked me, another mother, what my hopes were. I was able to give her some, including finishing my dissertation!

She then asked a Cameroonian neighbor what hers were, and she, also, was able to provide some personal ones. Her mother then relented that it was perhaps the mix of all of the suffering they had lived through, the experience of becoming a refugee, and seeing how far they had come, that just wore her out from wanting to imagine anything else for herself than for her kids to never have to go through an experience like that again.

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I noticed this theme consistently across all households that I worked with in this

research. The aspirational maps of sub-units within households focused on their

children’s well-being, and when women and girls were involved, they were often fraught

and complicated by exposure to various forms of violence and chronic health issues that

required household resources to address. However, in devising strategies towards these

aspirations, if capital was otherwise lacking, household items that were cut, were often

those that served the mother’s needs, including many mothers who noted they had to stop

taking their medicine in order to meet other household needs that served the aspirations

of other household members.

5.3.2 Sub-theme 2: Faith as a form of social and cultural capital

Closely interlinked with hope, faith was ever present as a way to cope with the wait for aspirations to come to fruition. In this way, it was a form of both social and cultural capital that could be leveraged on the broader maps that informed strategies towards aspirations per my conceptual model. This echoes recent research on the role that faith can play in building resilience in humanitarian contexts (Ager et al., 2015). The response to many questions on how specific aspirations would be realized was along the lines of, “God needs to find the means for us to achieve them (aspirations).” Nearly every household that I spent time with had religious statues and pictures scattered throughout their otherwise often bare homes. Most of my research participants were part of

Pentecostal churches. The few exceptions included a small number of households who still practiced Catholicism, one household whose members were Jehovah’s Witnesses, one whose members were Seventh Day Adventist, and the son of one Catholic woman

117 who was the only Muslim member of his household. Only one household (household 1) did not express adherence to any specific religion. No matter what their specific belief system was, my research participants with the exception of those from household 1 who were more skeptical about religion, accentuated throughout our conversations that religion was really the guiding light in their lives. They talked about the solace that praying in their own language provided them. Several household members talked about how praying in a language other than their mother tongue, Kinyarwanda, was a hardship.

When I asked Ivoire, a 45-year-old widow and mother of three who’s household is the focus of Case Study 3, how she was able to deal with all of the challenges she had laid out to me, she responded, “It’s prayer. When I pray, I feel good. God is in control. Prayer is everything.”

As I will discuss in Case Study 1 (see Chapter 6) and through the discussion in

Chapter 9, many strategies towards larger aspirations that I observed or were told about during interviews were articulated by women household members as “sins” or transgressions. They were seen this way as many of these behaviors, such as sex work and theft, were frowned upon in their religious contexts. However, despite their strong faith and the influence that this faith had on the gendered expectations of them in their society, framing their actions in this way also provided them solace that an all-forgiving

God would understand and forgive these transgressions. For example, Ernestine (see

Chapter 6: Case Study 1) reflected on having had thoughts of wanting to die as a way to be less of a burden on her daughter, explaining to me that she is “always asking God for his forgiveness for having wanted to die and not placing enough trust in him.” Ernestine’s

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faith in things working out allowed her to tap into her network and secure loans that

allowed for her daughter Concilie to take a clandestine route to France. Faith provided a

means to cope with what my research participants explained to me as “transgressions” in knowing that since they were for a greater good, they were temporary and would be understood in the long-run by God.

5.3.3 Sub-theme 3: Social networks as a form of social capital

Social networks were often explicitly referred to as sources of support. In my conceptual model I consider social networks as a key source of social capital that was often leveraged in the implementation of strategies towards aspirations. In nearly every household I visited, I heard stories from refugees about how they had been in need, and the different refugee communities had come to their support. Similarly, I heard many examples where other Cameroonian community members, including members of the same Churches or neighborhoods, would come to the support of individuals who were in need. Jacques, a 56-year-old Rwandan man from household 14 explained to me, “at least we have solidarity” when I asked him what he liked about Yaoundé, after he had lamented about all of the problems urban refugees faced in the city, but that more often than not, it was these social networks that helped address problems facing their communities.

Solidarity across the community and social networks was also reinforced through collective coping or enduring with waiting. When I began working with refugees many years ago, I remember being surprised at how patiently they seemed to be waiting for anything, whether it be news from the UNHCR on their refugee status, potential

119 resettlement, or social services. I realized quickly that this waiting was part and parcel to the refugee experience, and actually helped to bolster hope. Waiting was also something that was coped with communally, and shared among social networks. Waiting for aspirations to be realized was no different than all of the other waits they had endured in their lives, and it actually perhaps provided some solace in knowing that somethings they had waited for had effectively happened to other members of their social networks. In

Chapter 9, I will explore more in depth the ways in which hope intersects with the past and the present as a way to tolerate waiting.

However, in the case of Rwandan urban refugees, this solidarity was being tested.

Several households that I visited spoke about how refugee status issues caused by the

Cessation Clause were breaking up the solidarity of the Rwandan refugee community.

Marcelle explained to me:

The Cessation Clause, it is really breaking our community apart. Can you

imagine, in one household or community, people who fled the same situation on

the same day, and end up with different legal status? It makes it start to feel like a

competition. In our family even, although we fled on the same day, under the

same circumstances, we don’t all have the same refugee status.

In this way, the legal precarity introduced by the Cessation Clause was noted as eroding an important part of their social fabric—their social networks--and leaving some community members needing to rethink their hope and aspirations.

The importance of social networks as key sources of social capital that are pulled on in refugees’ mapping of strategies towards their aspirations cannot be underestimated.

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The potential fissures introduced by legal precarity were significant. As a way to underline the importance of their social networks and as a way to supplement what they felt were inadequate services provided by humanitarian agencies, many of the refugees I worked with were engaged in humanitarian action, or interested in pursuing careers where they would be able to serve others, knowing what kinds of challenges people can experience over the course of their lives. My research participants often talked about specific improvements they would make to the humanitarian sector, primarily in thinking more long-term, and making sure that things were communicated appropriately. One of

Victoire (household 2)’s daughters, Rose, explained to me that she was interesting in providing psychosocial support to refugees, and talked about how she could help to be a source of hope to others who were going through experiences that she had successfully moved beyond:

I go to one refugee camp, for example, and I show them a photo, and I say, ‘this is

me. Me, I lived in a refugee camp like you, but today I am a working

professional.’ To me, this helps to provide hope, inspiration, and the information

that life is dynamic. It can change. It is so important to keep encouraging hope,

and encouraging hard work towards realizing these hopes. I have already received

so much, now, it is time for me to give back.

In this way, Rose argued, by tapping into their broader social networks of refugees, they could bolster solidarity and show other refugees precedents of success, possibly contributing to their own hopes for the future.

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However, through my focus on women, I noticed that there were gendered aspects to these social networks as well, particularly in terms of what networks different household members could access. Men seemed to have better access to networks that would trust them with capital to start businesses, whereas most of the women that I worked with only spoke of accessing loans for this sort of thing in very extreme circumstances, and usually when a male child was entrusted with the management of the project. This corresponded with gendered aspects of Rwandan culture that I found in the broader literature (see discussion of Rwandan cultural context in Section 2.3). Many of the women were more linked with faith groups or women’s groups that provided social support, but less economic support than some of the networks, potential sources of loans, and savings groups that men accessed.

Perhaps recognizing this, the UNHCR and other agencies tried to better connect women to social networks through women’s groups. These groups did not seem to have the same effect as those that were organically created through faith or business ties as noted above. Several of the women in the community complained about the way that the

UNHCR often “forced refugee women into groups that we don’t want to be in,” as

Ernestine (see Chapter 6: Case Study 1) explained. I heard this from several women across the community who sensed that it was a way for the UNHCR to justify to their donors that they were doing something, but that it in fact was a “waste of time” for refugee women and something that pulled them away from other social networks that could be more lucrative. Jeannette (see Chapter 7: Case Study 2) lamented to me that she felt the UNHCR often tried to force social groups that only really benefitted the UNHCR:

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When we arrived there, most of the women hadn’t shown up. I went to two

women’s group meetings, and it was the same thing at both of them. We ask what

is the point of going to these meetings after last time, where is the money that we

are asking for? They told us that the HCR (UNHCR) doesn’t have money. We

asked then what is the point? They said, ‘We never know’ so we just wait and

hope like that.

This underlines the different kinds of social groups that can be observed, and the

benefits of long-term ethnographic research that help to identify which ones were formed organically, and which ones were forced. From Jeannette and other women’s complaints,

I found that they felt the UNHCR was pushing them to be in these « meeting groups » or

« reunions », but that it was organized in a top down way. Furthermore, the women I

spoke with suggested that they did not have the time, energy, or desire to participate in

groups formed by the UNHCR if there was not some sort of financial incentive. Jeannette

and others also expressed the feeling that sometimes these groups undermined solidarity

in their communities by comparing their suffering as a way to justify why some

community members received support and others did not. Jeannette shook her head,

saying, “They came to my house and saw beans and bananas and decided that I don’t

have any problems, especially after seeing the house at the bottom of the swamp down

there, even though I have some serious problems and could really use some support!”

Furthermore, she suggested that the UNHCR primarily only organized these groups

among women, and they did not “waste men’s time” the way they wasted women’s. She

shook her head, telling me, “These women’s groups are a waste of time, the UNHCR

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doesn’t waste men’s time like ours, and then men are able to make real, useful

connections that we don’t have time for as we are always part of these ‘betisses’.”

I began to reflect on my own time as a humanitarian professional and could only think of groups that we encouraged that put women together, and began to feel guilty that these groups were perhaps more of a waste of time than helpful to women, after witnessing the complaints over my three years in the field for this dissertation. That said, in regards to gender and social networks, this also seemed significant. Groups that formed organically in the community seemed to work well and provide solidarity and support, including being a source of social and even economic capital, to community members. Perhaps in observing this, the UNHCR or other humanitarian agencies thought it would be helpful to create different groups to further support women. However, the perspectives of the women that participated in this research demonstrated that groups that were not created organically did not have the same benefit, and were often times seen to detract from solidarity and become an additional source of stress. For this reason, when I refer to social groups and networks in this research, it is the groups that my research participants referred to as their “social groups.” These are the groups that were formed organically through common faith, language, or other interests and not the women’s groups that were created in top-down ways by humanitarian agencies.

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Chapter 6: Case Study 1: “A necessary step”: the choice and justification of strategies

One of the important components of the conceptual model of this dissertation (see

Section 3.2 and Figure 1) are the strategies that stem from aspirations, including how they

are chosen, justified, and implemented. This includes the broader socio-cultural and political economic factors including access to various forms of capital and social structures that may facilitate or impede the ability of women to engage some strategies over others. Towards the beginning of my research when I observed and heard from my research participants about their participation in sex work, non-compliance to their chronic health regimens, or clandestine migration, I tried to follow-up to understand the reasons why these strategies were chosen over others. What I observed over time and as I garnered trust with my research participants was that these actions that I observed were discussed as temporary actions and equitable to sins or transgressions. In other words, they were forgivable offenses. Furthermore, they were always linked with some longer

term aspirations, and I often had the impression that my research participants were

attempting to justify their actions to me in this way. I had the impression that my research

participants felt the need to justify actions that they or others were taking, particularly

when they spoke of sex work or theft, they would justify these as transgressions or sins

that “God would forgive” since they were for a greater good. Because of the socio-

cultural expectations of these women by their community and faith, they made it clear to

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me that, as one research participant explained to me, “our choices are sometimes sins, but

we will be forgiven when God realizes that we were stuck.”

What was considered a sin or transgression to my research participants was often linked with what their faith and socio-cultural contexts dictated as “wrong.” On the other hand, other actions like clandestine migration to Europe were rarely even qualified as anything other than a necessary action to reach longer-term aspirations. On the broader map of the potential paths towards their aspirations as outlined in my conceptual model, these strategies were explained to me as “necessary actions” towards achieving their aspirations. In line with socio-cultural expectations of mothers in Rwandan culture, these aspirations were often hedged on different household members, particularly children, and strategies emerged in a way that tried to minimize harm to their children. I will expand on

this theme in this chapter and make links through the next case studies and discussion

(see Chapters 7-9). Furthermore, my data demonstrate that there are important applied

implications to understanding the factors that influence the choice and justification or

explanation of why some strategies over chosen over others by persons living at the

margins of society, which I will discuss further in Chapter 9.

Some of the most poignant examples of the deliberations involved in choosing

strategies, and the ways in which available capital and access to social structures

influenced these choices, came through the stories of flight themselves. Leaving, even via

unplanned, forced, or clandestine routes, was put forward as a hopeful practice, or taking

a step in leaving the misery, pain, and fear that refugees experienced in an effort to seek

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greener pastures elsewhere (Kleist, 2016b). This was inextricably linked with the

uncertainty of what they would find elsewhere.

I will illustrate this theme, and the ways in which strategies were described and

justified to me, with a vignette about Ernestine and Concilie (household 6). This vignette

first illustrates the strategies in the context of violence and uncertainty that led them to

flee Rwanda in the first place. I then delve into the challenges that pushed them to take

another bold leap in sending Concilie, the household member whose well-being was

central, overseas via a clandestine route in hopes of her success. Following this vignette, I

will bring in examples from other households that further illustrate this theme, and the

role that aspirations, an ability to effectively read the map and leverage the capital needed

to engage strategies towards these aspirations, and socio-cultural expectations of women

and mothers play in the choice to engage the chosen strategies.

The following vignette is a snapshot of the lives of Ernestine and Concilie

gleaned from multiple visits, telephone and WhatsApp conversations, unstructured

interviews, semi-structured interviews, and participant observation over three years.

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I arrived at a small white and blue two room house, surrounded by a wall with broken glass on top of it, and three pad locks on the rusty steel front door. I tried to rack my brain to remember which woman Ernestine was from the women’s group that I had participated in earlier that week. When I was invited to participate in the women’s group,

I had expected to arrive and meet a small group, but found a large room overflowing with women who were excited that someone had taken notice of their situation and stories.

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During that women’s group we spent four hours, and I barely got a word in, as after introducing myself, and my research interests, everyone wanted to share their stories, or at least make sure that I would be coming by their house so they could do so in private.

After participating in that initial meeting, Ernestine, like many of the other women, tracked down my phone number and called me several times, insisting that she wanted to see me. She said that she needed to talk to me about what was going on her life so that I could understand some of the challenges the Rwandan community was facing. Her voice sounded shaky and as if she was clinging on to her last hope with me, so I was hesitant at first to come so as not to raise expectations. But I tried to be as clear as I could about my limited role and ability to make anything that she was hoping for happen.

When I knocked on the door, Ernestine came out, peeked over the wall, and then smiled when she saw me, fumbling with her keys for a minute or so before she opened three separate locks, which she carefully locked again once I was inside the barrier. She was a bit hunched over, and shaky in her gestures. As she took my hand and led me into the room which served as the living area, I saw her daughter, Concilie, sitting cross- legged on the floor. She was a striking young woman, thin with a pile of long braids tied into a knot on the top of her head. She stood up and welcomed me in, and then pulled up a plastic chair. I looked around the room and noticed a large freezer, a small gas stove, and some cooking utensils, but otherwise, very sparse decorations. A sheet was hung as a door to the other room, where I imagined they slept. Ernestine and Concilie insisted I come as they really wanted to talk to me about their lives. They said they were happy that

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a researcher was finally paying some attention to the situation of Rwandan refugees, who

they felt were often overlooked in Africa.

This eagerness made me hesitate again (see Section 4.2 Ethical considerations). I

wondered if Ernestine and Concilie were confusing me for someone that could help them

with their legal papers, or resettlement in the United States, or something else that I

simply was in no position to do. I tried to make it abundantly clear that I could not do

anything immediately to support them with anything related to immigration or

resettlement, but they still insisted I come. They told me that they felt the Cessation

Clause was testament to the fact that the world, particularly those interested or working in

the humanitarian sector, did not understand the situation of Rwandan Hutu refugees.

Concilie looked at me and said, “Maybe you can write about it, and help people to

understand our situations better.”

Ernestine pulled out a red plastic chair for me to sit on, and then sat on the ground

across from me, her back against the freezer. Concilie sat on a plastic mat next to her,

looking into her lap as her mother began to speak softly. Ernestine suggested that it

would be better to put their story into context when I asked her about her life and

aspirations in Yaoundé. She clarified that doing so would help me to better understand

why they were in the state they were currently in, and what informed what they wanted next.

Ernestine put her hand on her daughter’s lap, telling me that Concilie was her

only daughter, and in fact, the only person she had now in the world. She explained that it

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was a miracle, the way her and her husband were finally able to conceive their daughter.

Ernestine went on to contextualize this statement:

It was harvest season, and energy was in the air. The last days of the hungry

season were soon over, and everyone would temporarily forget the lean days as

they feasted on goat with fried plantains accompanied by fresh cow’s milk. We

thought that the end of the hungry season would perhaps put a temporary halt to

the rising tensions across the country that always felt ready to explode. There

were so many scary and seemingly inconceivable rumors. After all, the kind of

things that people talked about in those rumors, we thought that kind of thing

could not happen here (in Rwanda). At least I thought that was the case. We were,

after all, civilized people.

Ernestine then went on to explain that she vividly remembers Sylvain, her husband, walked in the door to his small house on the hill, as he had so many days in the past, eager to see how Ernestine was doing. After all, she was expecting any day at that time. After 10 long years of marriage, and trying to have children; after having practically given up on trying and accepting that they would only have each other, Ernestine and

Sylvain were sure that Ernestine’s belly was swelling despite the lean period. Ernestine described to me that when they first showed up at the village’s health post, they had convinced themselves that it must be something else as a way to brace themselves for the disappointment. But, Ernestine looked at me with a small smile, and told me how she and

Sylvain had left the health post that day elated. After 10 years of marriage, of trying to start a family, they learned that they would be welcoming a new child into the world.

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Finally. Ernestine looked at me and said, “you see, she is really a gift from God,”

pointing at Concilie.

Ernestine then went on to elucidate how she remembers the National Radio in

Rwanda being focused on further dividing their already hurting country:

Sylvain and I, we hoped that this phase of history would simply be a blip we

looked back on and wondered how people could have been so short-sighted, so

ignorant. How people could have fallen for the usual tales of blaming others for

their problems.

Ernestine further expounded to me that she remembered one day when her and

Sylvain had been listening to the radio, and her water broke. She and Sylvain rushed to the midwife so that she could give birth. She laughed, saying her daughter, Concilie, was always ambitious, and they arrived just in time for the midwife to help them welcome their daughter into the world. Ernestine remembered how they looked at the beautiful little girl that the midwife handed to them after wrapping her in a warm, brightly colored cloth. “We will name her Concilie,” Sylvain had suggested to Ernestine. Ernestine told me how she readily accepted the name. She manifested, after so many years, she finally had the baby she wanted. From what I gathered over the course of our time together, it was clear that Concilie would become the person whose well-being would become the center of their world.

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Ernestine looked up at me and apologized that she had started telling her story so quickly without asking me if I would like anything to drink. At first, I turned the offer

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down, but I saw in the faces of Ernestine and Concilie that they were not happy with my

response and I remembered being told by one of my key informants that in Rwandan

culture it was a grave insult to not accept an offering or food of drink when visiting

someone. I asked them what they had, and they pulled out a small grapefruit flavored

soda. I took it from them, opened it, and took a sip.

Concilie sat motionless looking intently at her mother while her mother had told

me her birth story. I was about to ask her a question about what she did in Yaoundé, but before I could ask, Ernestine launched back into their story.

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“The rumors of increasing violence started reaching closer to home,” Ernestine went on, as she started shaking. She elucidated that it was never easy to tell these stories, and I told her she did not have to if she did not want to. But she looked at me and insisted. She reiterated that the rest would not make sense without its context. Ernestine explained how after the birth of Concilie she and Sylvain had not left their home in days, for fear of running into a death squad. They were afraid, of being forced either to commit what Ernestine called “the unthinkable,” or threatened to death for refusing to comply.

Desperate, Ernestine went on to tell me how Sylvain broke down and called his brother who was currently working with the central Government in the capital, Kigali. Sylvain disclosed to his brother that he was feeling increasingly unsafe, and was considering fleeing across the border to Zaire. His brother suggested that Zaire would not be safe for

Sylvain, his wife, and his new infant daughter, and suggested instead that they go to

Yaoundé, Cameroon. Ernestine had heard about how a lot of persons that had the means

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were already headed there, and applying for resettlement in the United States or Canada.

Sylvain’s brother offered to let him borrow money for the journey, with the caveat that he

would eventually be able to pay it back, once they were resettled in North America.

Ernestine felt the loan was feasible, as Sylvain had a good job in Rwanda. She explained

how she remembered thinking, “surely he would be able to find work in Yaoundé, and then easily integrate into the United States and pay the loan back in due time.”

This was where the theme of the choice of strategies linked with and justified by greater aspirations and socio-cultural expectations of women, as well as their means to achieve these aspirations, began to emerge in Ernestine and Concilie’s story. While

Sylvain was initially concerned about leaving his job, he was reassured by his wife and brother that he would be able to find work and make a place for himself elsewhere.

Ernestine did not even articulate reflecting on what leaving her family, friends, or life in

Rwanda would mean. She told me that she knew nothing about Cameroon prior to coming, but that, “the flight, the move, all of it, was justified by the thoughts of a brighter future for Concilie.”

Hopeful that leaving everything and moving to Cameroon would be what was best for their daughter, Ernestine pressed her husband to accept, and Sylvain agreed with the reassurance that he would be able to continue his career elsewhere. Ernestine further reiterated, “we were unsure of what lay ahead, but we were sure that a future anywhere would be better than the growing violence that felt ready to explode in Rwanda.”

Ernestine described that three days after making their decision, Sylvain,

Ernestine, and Concilie closed their door and left with everything they were able to carry

133 with them without looking too conspicuous. They traveled two hours by winding road to the border with Zaire. From there, they embarked on a three month trek through Zaire and the Republic of Congo until they arrived in Cameroon. Ernestine did not want to talk about that part of their journey, shaking her head and telling me it was where they saw some of the most “awful things that one could imagine.” This was the first of many instances that would arise over the course of their lives where the potential negative impacts of moving were minimized by the aspirations for a better life elsewhere. For

Sylvain, he would be able to continue his work and provide for his family. For Ernestine,

Concilie would have a better chance at everything somewhere far away from Rwanda.

Ernestine then went on to illustrate their transition to Cameroon, and their new identity as refugees. Upon arriving in Yaoundé, exhausted, Sylvain, Ernestine, and

Concilie connected with the Rwandan refugee community who facilitated the process of applying for refugee status with the United Nations High Commissioner of Refugees

(UNHCR). The majority of Rwandan refugees who now lived in Cameroon or who had arrived and already been resettled came by foot through Zaire like Ernestine and her family. After their family was provided with refugee status, they requested that they be considered for resettlement in the United States. At the time, Cameroon had no refugee camps, and refugees lived scattered across the capital city, Yaoundé. Ernestine explained how their family first moved to a lower-middle class neighborhood, not technically considered a slum, but not far from it, towards the outskirts of the city. They settled there, borrowed money from other members of their community who had been in Cameroon for several years at that point to start a small store, and waited for the call from the UNHCR

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that would change their lives forever. In the first years in Cameroon, Ernestine expounded that they were hopeful that given their situation, they would be chosen for resettlement in the United States.

Ernestine described to me that waiting was always part of the game, and something she had become very accustomed too. The days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and all of those months into 18 years. Sylvain, Ernestine, and

Concilie were well-accustomed to life in Cameroon. With refugee status, Concilie had been able to attend Cameroonian schools, and had worked hard and earned marks at the top of her class. She was accepted into the national University where she studied alongside her Cameroonian peers, as well as refugees that had been steadily arriving from not only Rwanda, but countries across West and Central Africa, as conflict in the region had increased. Periodically, Sylvain would stop by the UNHCR office to see if there was any news as to whether or not their case would be considered for resettlement, but after having seen so many refugees already resettled, his hopes were focused more on what they could achieve in Yaoundé. After all, Ernestine told me that she and Sylvain had regular discussions about how it seemed that with increasing numbers of refugees from

Nigeria, the Central African Republic, as well as displacement in other regions of the world, Rwandans had been forgotten as refugees, and no longer prioritized by resettlement programs. But it was fine, Concilie had grown into a bright young woman, and Ernestine told me how she was always sure she would succeed no matter where she went.

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Ernestine looked over at Concilie, who had sat quietly through most of the

background she had provided so far, looking at the ground. Her gazed seemingly fixed on

something, but when she looked up, I noticed tears welling up in her eyes. Ernestine warned me that the next part of their lives was really difficult to talk about.

She went on to explain that one evening, Sylvain left their house in the middle of a storm. Ernestine expounded that it was “the kind of storm that you can only really experience in tropical regions of the world. It felt like the whole sky was falling apart as the rain came down in fast pellets, accompanied by strong gusts of wind, lightning, and thunder.” He was headed out to meet a newly arriving Rwandan family at the airport with

some other members of the community. When he arrived at the airport, Ernestine was

later told that he complained of a slight headache and dizziness, so his colleagues advised

that he sit down. However, before he had the chance, Sylvain fell to the floor. Ernestine

received the phone-call and confided in me how she only remembers staring at her

ringing phone for a few seconds before she answered it. She claims that she knew

something terrible had happened. She felt it in the pit of her stomach as she clutched her

phone with one sweating hand, and held her daughter, Concilie’s hand with the other.

The following days and weeks were a blur. Ernestine had a nervous breakdown

upon learning the news, and had to be briefly hospitalized. Concilie, now 19, had to

become the caregiver to her mother at the same time as organizing her father’s funeral.

Up to this point, I had not heard her voice clearly, but she chimed in as she looked over at

her mother with concern. Ernestine seemed shaky and uncomfortable in telling this part

of their story.

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Concilie chimed in, “I only knew Cameroon, so it felt natural for me to bury my

father here, but this only increased my mom’s anguish.” When Ernestine woke-up after her nervous breakdown, Concilie went on:

…she would mumble about the injustice of the world, on being a perpetual

refugee, on being forced to flee only shortly after the happiest and most

anticipated day of her life, and having her husband’s life abruptly taken from her

in a place that they still lived in as ‘refugees,’ or a place we could technically not

call home. She was not happy about father being buried away from home.

Ernestine chimed in again. She described that after a month of hospitalization

during her nervous breakdown, she was released from the hospital. It was now just her

and Concilie. “My sweet, strong, and brave, Concilie,” Ernestine spelled out. She hoped

that she would be able to offer Concilie a better life. Ernestine reflected with anguish on the years past: “How is it possible that my life took such a cruel twist of fate on the

happiest day of my life, to the place where I now find myself, widowed, scared, and responsible for ensuring my daughter’s success at all costs on my own?”

Ernestine looked over at me and said, “so, you see, despite what the UNHCR says about us, and how they think we are all doing well and should just go home, the reality is much different than that.” Ernestine wanted to go to the market to get some vegetables as she brought up that they were often cheaper later in the afternoon since the vendors would try and get rid of the food that would rot the next day. She asked me if I wanted to join her, so we took a break from her heart wrenching story and went to the market together. Concilie stayed behind.

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During our time at the market I kept thinking about Ernestine’s story. Over the

course of my fieldwork, Ernestine, like many other mothers, would qualify what they had

been through as a “necessary part of their journey,” as Ernestine called it on many

occasions. All of the “suffering” that resulted in these actions was often linked with faith,

noting that it was “God’s way of testing us.” Ernestine, like many other women I worked

with over the course of this research, would constantly reiterate to me that it was in

knowing that this was all part of “God’s plan” that they were able to tolerate and justify

the challenges they had to endure in order to ensure better futures for their children.

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Wanting to spend some time alone with Concilie to also get to know her and what her aspirations were, I invited her to a park one day with my children. When we got there, the kids played with her for a little bit before turning their attention to some other children, and I turned to Concilie. She seemed relaxed that day, telling me that growing up in Cameroon, she felt like a Cameroonian. She had a number of Cameroonian friends, they talked about movies, music, boys, what they wanted to study in college, and what they would do when they were done. Concilie imagined that she would go to University and become a medical doctor. Or maybe a psychologist. And then she would go and work in one of the private hospitals around town as non-Cameroonians couldn’t be recruited into the civil service. She just knew she wanted to do something that would help other people. Her dreams mirrored that of many of her friends. She had essentially grown up in

Cameroon, spoke French like a Cameroonian, and felt socially and culturally closer to

Cameroon than she did to Rwanda.

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However, this all changed one day, Concilie disclosed, when she started getting verbally harassed by a young man in her neighborhood. She told me that she had not wanted to elucidate this part of her story the other day in front of her mother, even though her mother knew about it. Concilie said, “you see, my mother, after her first nervous breakdown, she is too weak to think about a lot of these things.”

Concilie then launched into the circumstances that had caused her to reflect on leaving the country. As refugees, mobility always seemed like a feasible option, and from what I gathered, her perceived security risks in Cameroon were so great that leaving under any circumstances seemed to be a less risky option than staying. Concilie told me that the first time she heard her aggressor screaming at her, she thought he must have confused her for someone else. Concilie was an attractive young woman, slim and dark with long braids that she usually piled on top of her head, so she was not unaccustomed to unwanted attention from men. In fact, on every occasion that I was out with her, I noticed how much attention she got, but typically ignored. But she went on, “I am not interested in boys, I am focused on studying and ignoring them until I can take care of myself.” She further explicated that her father had wanted her to be independent, successful, someone important, and in her father’s honor, she would ensure that she became what he wanted of her.

Concilie first realized her aggressor was about to attack her when she looked up and saw the man, a tall thin Cameroonian in his early 30s, coming towards her angrily.

She knew he was talking to her when he called her Rwandaise (Rwandan) and genocidaire (genocide perpetrator). The two friends she was walking with were

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Cameroonian, and stood close to her side as he approached her. She remembered how she had tried to remain calm, and looked at him, asking him what he wanted. Seemingly frustrated by her lack of fear and deference to him, he barked at her that he was going to kill her, the same way that her people killed, and that her and her mother should go home and stop taking jobs and money away from Cameroonians. She continued:

I knew it would be useless to explain my story, to explain the fear and violence

that led to my parents’ flight to Cameroon, to explain that I felt more

Cameroonian than Rwandan on most days since my only memories were from

Cameroon, to explain that the small store that my mother and I operated was built

entirely on debt we had incurred in Cameroon and continued to pay interest on.

Although, it is true that at school, ever since I was in Elementary School, I was

reminded that I was a foreigner when I had to show my birth certificate to sign up.

I remember one day coming home crying after the school director implied that my

parents were murderers. I was in Elementary School, and didn’t really understand

why I was a refugee, and how it had happened, or even what it was, so I came

home after crying the whole day and asked my mother about it, and she told me I

was too young to understand and I would know more later about how complicated

history was. You should have seen my photos from that period though, I was

always sad. Anyhow, so I didn’t know how or why to explain to people who

attacked us with xenophobia that my parents, in fact, employed two

Cameroonians in their store. I knew it would be futile, so I quietly shook my head

and started to walk away. However, as I began to walk away the man lunged at

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me, grabbing my throat and pulling me to the ground. One of my friends

screamed and tried to pull him off of me, the other ran to the nearby police station

and grabbed a young police officer to come and pull the man off of me. The rest,

all of the bystanders, stood by and looked. After the man was pulled away, they

came up to me and suggested I move, warning me that this man was someone

who was infamous in the neighborhood, a former cop who was involved in drug

and arms smuggling, and was endlessly powerful. How did I get so unlucky?

They did not know why he chose to pick on me, how he knew from a glance that I

was Rwandan, but they did tell me that they would have helped me, but they were

afraid. The man who seemed like a harmless drunk to me when I first saw him, in

fact ran the neighborhood.

Concilie told me that she did not want to alarm her mother, and anyhow, she was not sure where her and her mother would be able to move anyhow. She also observed that her mother would do anything for her, the same way I observed among many women in the community who justified their actions in terms of the ultimate well-being of their children. Concilie told me that she was afraid if she told her mother, her mother would try and talk to the man and get herself hurt. Since her father’s death, Concilie and her mother had moved to a small one room apartment in a different slum. But this slum was backed up to a wealthy neighborhood, allowing them to open a store where they could sell basic household goods such as sugar, toothpaste, flour, peanuts, and oil. To feel safe, as two women alone, they had ensured their new home was near a police station. Concilie decided to keep this encounter a secret from her mother so as not to worry her, and to

141 avoid the man’s path by taking different routes home from the University. She and her mother were refugees, they had been pushed away from multiple countries, on multiple occasions. Concilie explained, “we were obviously strong, surely we would not end up succumbing to the threats of a thug.”

This plan worked for several weeks, until one evening during a thunderstorm the already erratic electricity in the neighborhood was cut. While power cuts were normal,

Ernestine and Concilie had intentionally chosen their neighborhood because the cuts seemed less frequent at night, when they felt safer with some light around. The global financial crises was affecting their neighborhood just as much as anywhere, and there had been a recent uptick in robberies, so they decided to close their store early each night, rather than operating in the dark. As they were closing the metal doors with a padlock and chains one evening, they heard heavy knocking on the door, and a menacing voice asking them to open their store. Concilie explained to me how they acted like they were no longer there, and opened the small door in the back of the store that led them immediately to their one room apartment in the back, locked it, and shut it. The banging had stopped, and they figured that the thief had moved on. However, Concilie remembered having an uneasy feeling, and peeked outside of the small window of their backroom apartment. She looked over at me with tears in her eyes, describing to me how she gasped when she saw the outline of a man with a machete.

While she had heard horror stories about machetes and what they were used to do back home in Rwanda, she had grown up in the city and not seen them as frequently as she would have if she was living in a rural area where farming was more common. But

142 she had heard stories from her mother about their dark last days in Rwanda over the years as she grew up and her mother tried to contextualize their history to Concilie. Concilie told me about how Ernestine told her that some people tried to convince Ernestine and her family members, ethnically Hutu, to kill their Tutsi friends and neighbors. Concilie explained to me that those who refused to kill, to comply, were hacked to pieces, alongside their former colleagues, friends, family, classmates, and neighbors. For this reason, she only associated machetes with horror and violence, and while she had initially hesitated to say anything to her mother about her run-in with her aggressor, she looked closely and realized the man standing there was the man who had threatened to kill her.

At this point Concilie seemed exhausted, so I suggested that we drop off my children with their nanny at home, and then I could take her back to her house. We took a taxi through the winding, crowded streets to her apartment. When we arrived, I was going to leave, but Concilie asked me to come in so she could finish. She sat down on the dusty mattress on the floor that she shared with her mother, and began to sob quietly. Concilie explained to me how in the dark that evening she quietly told her mother, Ernestine, everything about the day where the man had threatened to kill her. Concilie remembered,

“we did not sleep that night, holding on to each other and jumping at every noise we heard.”

Ernestine, who had been sitting on the ground resting when we entered, quickly realized which story Concilie was recounting to me. She chimed in, telling me that, “that evening, I was sure of one thing, I had been pushed away from my country and lost my husband, I was not about to lose my daughter too.” Ernestine told me about how she

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resolved the next day to leave that neighborhood and find relative safety. All of this

context, Ernestine later explained to me during one of my many days working with her in

her store after he daughter had left the country, was essential in understanding the debt

they incurred and the actions they took in order to make sure that Ernestine’s vision for a

better future for Concilie would come to fruition.

Given that they were refugees, Ernestine told me that her first, and what she later

realized was naïve, thought was that if she adequately illustrated her situation to the

UNHCR, they would help them find another house to move into. When Concilie went to school the next morning, rather than opening the store, Ernestine told me how she took a taxi to the UNHCR’s downtown office and joined a line of refugees from countries across

Africa out front of the office. After waiting for over two hours, it was her turn to present herself, and she disclosed her situation to the woman at the gate who seemed sympathetic. However, once she learned that she was Rwandan, Ernestine remembered,

“her face changed and she asked what the problem was.” The UNHCR staff person asked

Ernestine to wait, as she went back into another office, and then called her in.

When Ernestine entered the office, she was greeted by a tall man wearing glasses and looking through a pile of papers, slapping a signature on every few pages. She sat down, and after a few minutes of completing the paperwork in front of him, the man looked up and asked Ernestine abruptly if she had heard of the Cessation Clause.

Ernestine explained that since her husband’s death, she had not had much contact with the Rwandan refugee community, and was not sure what he was referring to. Ernestine recalled how the man looked at her with a mixture of annoyance and pity, and looked at

144 his watch. He then quickly and curtly informed her that the UNHCR and the current

Rwandan government had come to an agreement that all Rwandan refugees that had not been resettled in third countries like the United States, Belgium, France, or Canada, would lose their refugee status at the end of 2017. It was 2015 at the time, so Ernestine breathed a sigh of relief that it would not yet take effect. She hoped that this idea would be reconsidered over the next two years. While the initial date was pushed back to

December 2018 rather than 2017, at the time of writing this dissertation, the Cessation

Clause had effectively come to a close and most Rwandan refugees lost their refugee status.

Ernestine followed up by noting that her refugee cards were about to expire, and she would have to come in for the renewal of their cards. She asked if this clause would affect the ability of her and her daughter to remain refugees. The man looked at her, seemingly annoyed that he had to explain this. He told her in a matter-of-fact way that

Rwanda was now safe, and she and her daughter could return there. The UNHCR would purchase their tickets. But that most Rwandans whose refugee status was coming up for renewal, even prior to 2017, would likely not be approved.

Ernestine remembered how she felt the room spinning once again. She had come to the UNHCR, the only place she knew to come, the place that had trusted and offered her and her family the international protection that a refugee status provided, in hopes that they would be able to help her with the current threats of violence that she was faced with. Instead, she learned that she had a choice of either becoming an undocumented immigrant in Cameroon when her status was up for renewal, receiving a residence permit

145 that meant she could stay and work in Cameroon but would have to depend on the

Rwandan Embassy for her protection, an institution that represented a government she deeply feared and fled years ago when they were still a rebel movement, or having to return to a country where she had lost nearly her entire family in the violence leading up to and the reprisals following the 1994 genocide. She had nothing and no one left in

Rwanda, and she surely did not want to take her daughter to that place where she would be labeled as guilty just because of her background. She explained to me how she remembers leaving the office in a hurry while holding back the tears in her eyes.

Upon returning to her neighborhood, Ernestine luckily ran into her neighbor, a

Cameroonian woman with whom she had become quite close since moving into the new apartment. Her neighbor looked at her with a confused look on her face, and asked ca va? before Ernestine broke down into tears, explaining the situation from this morning, her newfound fears for the future, and the threats looming in her neighborhood. She recollected herself and said that she had already lost so much, she could not lose her daughter, she refused to make her daughter go back to Rwanda, and she needed to find a solution to their current crisis before she fought with everything she had in her for their right to remain refugees. Her neighbor invited Ernestine in, and exhausted, Ernestine took a brief nap on her couch.

When she woke up, her neighbor was watching her, and handed her 400,000

FCFA (about $800). Ernestine took it, baffled, and asked what this was for, but before she could finish, her neighbor warned her of how dangerous the man that was pursuing her daughter was, suggested she move immediately, and that she not tell anyone where

146 she was moving. She said that her husband had given her the money as he had taken to

Concilie, and saw in her a young woman with a bright future. It was a gift, not a loan, but they did not want any problems in the neighborhood, so they needed to take it and find somewhere else to live immediately. That evening, her neighbor’s brother came with a truck to their house, they packed in it their meager belongings, and unpacked at a new one room apartment that they had found across town. This is the apartment where

Ernestine and Concilie were living when we first met. They had already become accustomed to moving as a way to improve their lives, and Ernestine articulated that they understood this meant having to recreate a new social network to ensure her security in her new neighborhood.

That evening, with what Ernestine described to be “the weight of the world on my shoulders again,” Ernestine described that her world began to spin once more. The last things she remembered was falling, and then waking up in the hospital, weeks later.

Concilie had called a taxi to take her mother to the hospital and they had to use a substantial portion of the generous gift their neighbor had given to them in order to support Ernestine, who according to the doctor, was having a nervous breakdown. He advised Ernestine to take more walks, and try not to stress that much. At that, Ernestine distinctly remembered scoffing. She asked the doctor to try living in her shoes for a moment. While Ernestine was in the hospital, their refugee status expired, and Concilie went to the UNHCR office to explain their situation. At that point, they were given temporary status. Another year was added to their refugee status, which would allow them to continue to work and move around in Yaoundé without fear of being

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apprehended for being undocumented, or giving them a document that would force them

to present themselves to the Rwandan Embassy.

Concilie confided in me that she was initially hopeful that at least this would help

to put her mother’s worries to rest. Surely, the UNHCR would not push them back when

they saw what the possibility of that did to her mother. Surely, the UNHCR would acknowledge that the fear of fleeing a home, no matter how long ago it was, or how seemingly stable things were in Rwanda now, was an event that could not simply be forgotten, forgiven, and tucked away. Surely the UNHCR would acknowledge that not all

Hutus killed, and that many Hutus also lost loved ones, or their own lives, during the dark years leading up to and after the 1994 genocide. Concilie explained that these were all her thoughts that she shared with her mother to ease Ernestine’s worries.

Concilie went on, telling me with tears running down her cheeks that as Ernestine recovered from her nervous breakdown she began to regularly breakdown crying in front of Concilie, lamenting how she had become a burden on her own daughter, and openly praying that she would just die, and leave her daughter in peace. This theme of becoming a burden that mothers often expressed to me will be further elaborated in Case Study 2

(See Chapter 7) but was intricately linked with the ways in which actions was justified.

Concilie kept reinforcing to her mother that this was not true. On several occasions during our conversations over the first two years Concilie would break down crying as her mother lamented to me that she just wanted to die in front of her daughter. Ernestine and Sylvain had raised a strong girl, capable of taking care of herself, and ready to assume the role of caregiver of her ailing mother, but it was challenging for Concilie to

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hear her mother wish for her death as a way that Ernestine justified would “help

Concilie,” while talking to me. At this point, as I had spent significant time with both women and developed strong relationships with them, I began to ensure that all of our conversations were private and not joint, so as to avoid any undue stress on Ernestine.

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One morning I had run to a Rwandan run fast-food store to grab a smoothie and a

schwarma sandwich, and I ran into Concilie there. I was surprised to see her in the middle

of the day as she was usually at school or studying. Concilie fixed her gaze idly in the

distance behind me, and told me how she had reluctantly decided to leave school after

completing her bachelor’s degree, telling herself that she would be able to continue her

education in the future, after she made some money. She told me that she began applying

for jobs everywhere, both in Cameroon and abroad, and finally was offered a job at a

telemarketing company that had just opened in Yaoundé. Her employers promised her

that she would be paid in due time, but encouraged her to start working as soon as

possible. “Naïve” as Concilie later told me, and without a contract or money to pay her

taxi to and from work, Concilie began working. She walked one hour each way to her

new office, and worked 9 hour days with barely a break. At the end of the first month,

she asked her employers how she could recuperate her pay. They promised her next

month, she would be able to pick it up along with a start-up bonus. Things continued this

way for three months, until one day, Concilie realized that she would never be paid, and

confronted her employers who told her that she was a refugee and should just be grateful

that they even hired her, throwing 10,000 FCFA (about $20) at her, an amount that would

149 not even cover one month’s rent in their new apartment. She walked home angrily, but determined to find something else.

Concilie walked with me to a cyber café next to the restaurant where I had run into her. She explained that she spent significant time at this cyber café, applying for jobs around the world, justifying that perhaps leaving Cameroon would be a way for her to make more money that would support her and her mother. Over the next few weeks, as I often passed the cyber café on my visits to different households, I consistently ran into

Concilie there nearly every time. When I asked Concilie if she would be nervous about leaving Cameroon, she responded that she was used to moving as a way to improve their situation, and was determined to make something work. This echoed Kleist’s (2016b) research which underlines, migrating itself as a hopeful practice. This also highlighted the ways in which hope for a better future, different than the painful circumstances of the past and present, served to buffer any reflection on the risks that could be associated with going elsewhere. In Concilie’s case, as she became a young woman, I observed the gendered aspects of this hope and strategies towards achieving aspirations as two-sided.

Her mother would accept any opportunity for Concilie to leave Cameroon as a way to ensure a better future, and Concilie would do so for her own future, but also to fulfill her mother’s aspirations for her. They were both working to ensure they did not become burdens (for more on this interrelated theme see Chapter 7: Case Study 2) on each other.

For many persons globally, the uncertainty of what is next allows for persons living in abject misery to imagine something better on the other side of a voyage.

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One morning Concilie called me excited. She told me that she woke up to her

phone ringing at 7:30 a.m. after a long night applying for jobs at the nearby cyber café,

and heard a man’s voice on the other end. He was calling her regarding her application to

work with their mining company in the Democratic Republic of Congo, and was

interested in hiring her. Concilie was elated, promising him to send all of the documents

they requested by the end of the week. She asked me to come over so she could tell her

mom with me. I had previously lived in the Democratic Republic of Congo, so Concilie

excitedly suggested that I could reassure her mother that it was safe there now. When I

arrived, Concilie excitedly pulled me into the main room where Ernestine was eating

some bread and tea on a mat on the floor near the freezer. When Concilie told Ernestine,

Ernestine’s eyes lit up! Despite the ongoing violence in the Democratic Republic of

Congo and its proximity as a neighboring country to Rwanda, Ernestine did not have the fearful reaction that Concilie had been afraid of. Instead, Ernestine exclaimed that this was finally an opportunity for her daughter to gain professional experience with a well- paying job and to carve out a place for her somewhere in this world that had seemingly pushed them away and reminded them that they were not welcome multiple times.

However, as Concilie began to work through the list of documents that were requested of her, she was quickly reminded that this would not be easy, just as much else in her life to date. One of the documents she needed was a passport, but as a refugee in

Cameroon, she effectively did not feel that she really belonged to any country. She was not Cameroonian, and so could not request a Cameroonian passport, and she avoided the

Rwandan Embassy at all costs, afraid of being pushed back to a country that she did not

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know, and desperately feared as the shadows of her parents’ pasts hung perpetually over

hear head. She finally resigned to go to the UNHCR office and ask them to provide her

with a travel document that her potential employer had suggested would be an adequate

document that would allow her to begin working there.

Concilie invited me to join her that day, suggesting that maybe the UNHCR

would receive her faster if they saw her with me. I was not convinced this would work,

but was curious to see what the process looked like. I was waiting outside of when

Concilie arrived at the UNHCR office, she was the second person in line. She had arrived

at 6 a.m., a full two and a half hours before the office doors opened. As 8:30 a.m.

approached, the line became increasingly long. But when she was received by the staff

person at the gate around 9 a.m., she was told that she would need to make an appointment, and given a list of other documents that she needed to collect, legalize, and bring back in order to apply for her travel document. Seemingly frustrated, she made an

appointment for a week’s time, the earliest time slot possible, and we set to work running

around town acquiring the needed documents and stamps. She also called her potential

employer to let them know that there was a delay, but that she would have all of the

documents requested by the end of two weeks. The employer agreed.

Concilie called me crying later that week. She explained that when she arrived for

her appointment at the UNHCR with her stack of documents requested, she was asked to

sit down. After waiting for an hour, a tall man with glasses, perhaps, she suggested to me,

the same man who her mother had told her about, called her into his office. Without any

small talk, he immediately launched into his explanation of why he would not be able to

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issue her a travel document. He clarified that she and her mother needed to first re-apply

for refugee status, and as Rwandans, they likely would not be able to be given longer than

6 months-1 year, if their case was approved at all, due to the Cessation Clause. He asked

why instead she did not go to the Rwandan Embassy and ask for a passport so that she

could take her job. Desperate, she spelled out that she had never been to Rwanda, and

was not inclined to do that, as she had known nothing but Cameroon and life as a refugee.

He shrugged his shoulders, told her in that case she would not be able to travel, and left.

Devastated, Concilie told me that she called her employer to disclose and

rationalize the situation, and ask if there was any way they could get a travel authorization from the Democratic Republic of Congo’s Embassy in Cameroon, and once in country, she would figure out the rest. She told me that she “heard the skepticism in her future employer’s voice,” and that they thanked her, but said that they would be

moving forward with another candidate. Concilie started sobbing on the phone, and I

asked her where she was. She told me that she was at home, so I headed over to talk with

her.

When I arrived, Concilie twisted one of her long braids around her finger, and

told me, “My dreams shattered right then and there.” The opportunity that was within

reach to move her family out of poverty, to perhaps allow Concilie to feel at home

somewhere, to become a citizen of a place rather than someone living in a perpetual state

of in-between, neither here nor there, rejection, and being pushed away and told she did

not belong, was gone.

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Ironically, three months after she had that job offer ripped away from under her,

she received a phone-call from the UNHCR’s office asking her to come in and pick up

her document. She showed up, and when she took the envelope and signed out the documents, she ripped it open and found a travel document issued to her, and her and her mother’s new refugee cards, valid for another year. She was without words, and in one desperate last attempt called the employer in the Democratic Republic of Congo to see if

they would allow her to travel and take the position. She told me that her contact seemed

confused, and because of the lack of clarity in the initial process, they feared taking her

on would be a liability. She was pushed away again. But this time, she had a travel

document, and she declared to me that was determined to find a use for it.

Concilie described that in a serendipitous way, on her way home she saw a flier published on the wall of one of the nearby high schools, “Study in France!”, “Study in

Canada!”, “Immigrate to Russia!” Concilie told me about how she applied for them all.

Probably at least five a day. This continued for two months. And then, one morning she received a phone-call. Concilie could not believe it when a man with a thick French accent called, asking her if she had applied to come study in France. Trying to sound poised, calm, Concilie replied that indeed she had. She wanted to pursue her graduate education in France. The man announced that he would be traveling to Cameroon in a few weeks, and gave her a time and place to show up for a test. He urged her to show up looking her best, in order to impress those administering the test. She confided in me that found this request odd, but then again, she had never been to France, and perhaps this

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was just part of a culture that she would soon be part of. Perhaps France would be the

place that would finally accept her. It could be the place that would not push her away.

Not wanting to raise her mother’s hopes, Concilie told me that she refrained from telling Ernestine about the phone-call, and instead decided that she would wait until after the test. When she showed up for the test, she was surprised to see that the meeting place was the restaurant of the Hilton, the most upscale hotel in the city, and that the only other applicants were other well-dressed young women. She sat in a line with the other girls, none of them talking to each other, and each regarding the others with curiosity, suspicion, and a hint of competition. When her name was called, Concilie went to meet with a person who she described to me to be a young, handsome French man who would be administering the test. She called me afterwards and asked me if I could meet her at a park so she could ask me some questions. When we met, she expressed that she was surprised that the test mostly consisted of personal questions about herself, her life, her family, whether or not she was married or had children. After answering these questions and having a pleasant conversation with the young man about France, about the school, and about what life was like there, he told her that he would call her within a week to let her know the decision. I had a feeling that there was something unusual about this interview, and divulged my reservations to Concilie. She said she also wondered, but she also justified to me that even if the work was not exactly what it appeared to me, perhaps once she was in France she could meet someone, get married, and establish a life so that she could bring her mother and they no longer would have to deal with the daily fear and

155 misery of living in Cameroon with uncertain legal status, and not knowing if and when her previous aggressor would find her.

I went back to her house with her to pay a visit to Ernestine. Feeling confident that the interview went well, Concilie told Ernestine about it as soon as she got home.

Ernestine was elated, and went immediately to church. She looked at me and mentioned that she was going to pray that this time, things would work out. When she returned home, Concilie’s phone rang, and it was the young man letting her know that she was one of the five young women who had been chosen for the program, and that she would need to show up with her travel document and the equivalent of 6,000 Euros the next week at the French Embassy where he would meet her to arrange for the Visa, travel, initial inscription, and arrange housing for her in France. When Concilie learned this, she agreed, but she hung up the phone looking unsure. Ernestine asked what the man had said, and when Concilie explained, she resigned that this meant she would be unable to participate. At that, Ernestine refused, and began to call everyone she knew, and by the end of the week, had amassed 8,000 Euros in debt, sure that once her daughter was in

France, she would quickly be able to pay it back with the enormous interest it would rapidly incur.

I had to leave the country at that point, as my first phase of fieldwork was coming to an end, but I wondered if Concilie would effectively be able to go, or if something would hold her back again. However, when I got back to Cameroon a few months later to complete my second phase of fieldwork, I called Ernestine who told me that Concilie had indeed traveled. She reported to me that after I left, things moved quickly, and within a

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few weeks, Concilie was at the airport, the same place where she lost her father, hugging

her mother goodbye. She was taking an enormous step into the unknown in leaving

without being entirely sure about the program she would be joining, but, she continued,

“anything is better than the status quo.” After learning about Concilie’s move to France, I spent significant time with Ernestine and exchanging texts and phone-calls over

WhatsApp with Concilie over the remaining 9 months of my fieldwork.

Ernestine revealed that she had moved, and told me where to meet her so that she could explain how everything was going. I visited Ernestine and observed that she had since moved into an even smaller space, essentially a small neighborhood store where she slept behind the counter in the evenings after she closed up, and bathed outside when it was dark so she could have privacy. She confessed to me that she did not care that her living conditions had so greatly deteriorated, she wanted to focus all of her income on paying back her debt, and not rely on her daughter who she hoped would flourish and find her place in France. Neither Ernestine nor Concilie noticed some of the potential warning signs in her initial interactions with the French man that may have foreshadowed things to come, perhaps shielded by the fact that they were so focused on their visions for the future and not what would happen once Concilie arrived in France. Or perhaps they did notice them, but justified these strategies as “worth it” for prospects of something different and better, even if it was uncertain at the time of what, exactly, that something was.

I sat down on a bench outside of the small storefront attached to Ernestine’s home. Ernestine described how Concilie called home from time to time. At first, she

157 spoke quickly and excitedly about how beautiful France was, about how clean everything was, about the funny accents and food that people ate. But after the initial few weeks,

Ernestine told me that her calls became less frequent. When Concilie called, Ernestine thought that her voice sounded guarded, and she insisted everything was ok, but that it was cold, and that the work she had to do to pay for her education was not what she anticipated it would be. Sometimes, Ernestine told me that she swore she heard a man in the background asking her to get off the phone, after which Concilie would hurriedly justify that she had to go because her boss was calling her. She did not talk much about school, the reason and program through which she had won a hard sought after place in.

From time to time Ernestine told me about how she heard stories about girls being trafficked to France, being forced to do unthinkable labor to support themselves for a certain number of years before they were allowed to be free, and make their own living as undocumented immigrants in the country. She admitted to me that questions would linger regarding the circumstances under which Concilie had left, but Ernestine convinced herself that her daughter would surely tell her if something was awry.

When I visited Ernestine one day at her store, she was looking worried, and she told me she just hoped she had made the right decision for her daughter. She then started shaking and telling me that she could not think too much about things that stressed her out or she risked to have a breakdown again. This time, however, she would be alone, without her husband or daughter nearby to take her to the hospital. When I asked her about the debt that she had incurred to send Concilie abroad, and if she had started to reimburse it, one year after Concilie’s depart, Ernestine shook her head no, saying:

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No! I don’t know if someone, or, I don’t know, but I can’t pay. Maybe Concilie

will find something and she will be able to pay. By the grace of God I have

enough to eat, that’s enough for me. If God, if things work out well, she

(Concilie) will help pay it back. Maybe God has a plan like that. Others have told

me anyhow, that as well as it works, she will pay me back. And she has hope that

things will work out… She told me that if she finds anything anywhere in Europe

or elsewhere in the world, she will go for it. She is still applying everywhere. Our

luck, with God, with our God, is that everyone loves Concilie. Everyone she has

been, everyone loves Concilie, it was really me that was an obstacle. When she

enters into someone’s house, everyone loves her. I didn’t even know that was

possible, but I only gave birth one time, and it is often difficult that your child will

be successful. But Concilie, she will be, because of the love everyone has for her.

I am so lucky that she turned out the way she did! I think, thanks to that, she will

be able to find a job during the vacation? But I know that things will work out

with her, and we’ll pay it back.

She turned somber, and looked at me, suggesting that either way, she did not

really have a choice. This is the way in which this particular action, sending Concilie to

France with enormous debt, was qualified. It was seen as a “necessary step” towards the better life that Ernestine and Concilie were working towards. It was seen as an escape from the gender-based violence that Concilie had been a victim of in Cameroon, and one of the few choices available to her as a young woman. Ernestine informed me about how needed to get Concilie out of the security situation she was in, and the action they had

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taken was worth it if it meant a potentially better future for her child. Ernestine further

expounded that now that she had incurred so much debt, she really could not ask for

more, but she did not care about the debt incurred. Yet, throughout all of our conversations, discussions of Ernestine’s well-being and precarious mental and physical health never came-up. They were not factors that Ernestine even considered, although when I spoke to Concilie on the phone questions pertaining to her mother’s health would always be the first she would ask me, as she knew that I visited her mother often.

A few customers came in, and Ernestine just sat on the stool with a blank

expression on her face, so I jumped up and asked them what they wanted, serving them

and placing their money under the newspaper where Ernestine kept her earnings while

Ernestine sat quietly on a small stool, seemingly resting. After the customers left,

Ernestine looked at me, and out of nowhere said, “at least now that she is there, in

France, marriage is a possibility to solve her problems, especially as Concilie is beautiful

and well-liked by everyone.” After learning that refugees left behind in Cameroon would

be affected by the Cessation Clause in forcing them to accept residency permits, meaning

that they could not travel outside of Cameroon if they did not work with the Rwandan

Embassy, whom they feared. She asked me, “now does that mean that all of our girls only

have the option of getting married in Cameroon?” This was a visibly upsetting prospect

for her and many other women in the community. This also was a testimony to the types

of options that were seemingly available to women and girls, further underlining the

socio-cultural expectations, and subsequent options, for women and girls.

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Ernestine seemed like she could have talked all night, but I had a feeling I was

distracting her from her clients at her store, so I told her I was going to head to another

person’s house. She thanked me for coming, and then kept saying how lucky she was,

how God had helped, and how luckily, Concilie was someone that everyone liked, so she

was now sure things would continue to work out. She noted that she no longer felt like an

obstacle to her daughter’s dreams. She was free now in that sense, and was excited for the

future as opposed to when I first met them and they were desperate and scared in their

certainty that things would continue to work out for the worst. When someone is in that

position, even the greatest risks can yield important results. She looked at me before I left, saying, “When life is difficult, instead of dying, we take risks.” This was remarkably one of the only times that I explicitly heard Ernestine qualify the actions they had undertaken as a risk. However, upon probing, I realized she was talking more about the debt that she had taken on than the trip to France itself.

On the other side, Concilie was convinced she would endure what she had to in order to make a decent living, and maybe one day bring her mother to France. We continued to talk via WhatsApp at least once a week, and she added me onto her

Facebook page where I saw periodic pictures and updates. I later discovered that she also had a second Facebook page, with a French last name, and pictures that were more revealing. I was not entirely sure what that page was used for, but when I tried to add her as a friend, the request was declined.

Concilie had been through so much, and explained to me that she was sure that she would somehow be able to make it through this as well. That there would be a way of

161 throwing the shadow of the past away entirely, and starting over in Europe. Until then, she elected not to share everything with her mom, she did not want to worry her unnecessarily with some of the surprises she had encountered upon arriving in France.

She told me quietly via WhatsApp that all of the stress of her situation, and of being alone, had been bringing back old memories that she had completely forgotten. These memories included childhood rape in a refugee camp, on top of the rest of her life experiences. She was confused and could not understand how all of these ideas are coming back to her now, while she was alone in a new country. Now, she was simultaneously trying to finish her studies, apply for asylum status in France which she hoped would be approved before her student Visa expired in a few short months, and looking to find a husband, or someone to marry, as a way to help her start a family, feel love again, and figure out a situation that would help both her and her mother. If she could achieve these things, the actions they had taken along the way would all be worth it. Concilie continued, “anyhow, I am sure everything we did is worth it.” At the time of writing this dissertation in late 2018, Concilie’s asylum status in France was still pending and she was still trying to finish her studies while working. However, she never clearly told me what she was doing for work, but explained that she was still actively looking for any type of nanny job she could, even if it meant moving to another European country for it. She confided in me that she wanted to see her mother again, but that she never planned on returning to Cameroon.

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6.1 Further sub-themes and data from additional households

This vignette illustrates how the socio-cultural expectations of Rwandan women

affect their strategies engaged towards aspirations. Linked with the conceptual model of

this dissertation, these strategies are inextricably linked with access to various forms of

capital by women, as well as their ability (or not) to read the map towards their

aspirations which is linked with their access to important structures like the UNHCR,

social capital, and often lack of precedents or role-models that have achieved success.

Linked with this theme, through this vignette, the sub-themes of tapping into social

networks for loans or gifts, seeking marriage for security, leaving (particularly for the

United States or Europe), the prevalence and effects of sexual violence, and the safety of

women and girls, and forgiveness emerged. These themes were also found and echoed

throughout other households in my sub-sample.

I found that in households that were living in the context of ongoing or recent violence, particularly sexual violence, aspirations often began to shift towards leaving.

Members of these households spoke less about what they could feasibly do in the context of Yaoundé, often times talking about specific opportunities they were pursuing for work or studies in Europe, Canada, or the United States. However, given the Cessation Clause, resettlement was no longer an option for Rwandan refugees, and travel documents to leave the country were increasingly difficult to acquire. But despite all of this, many households maintained that they would still be able to leave Cameroon and find greener pastures elsewhere.

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Linked with socio-cultural contexts and available options, young women often

sought marriage overseas for security as a way to both find love and start a family, as

well as start a new life elsewhere. Other women that I engaged with over the course of my research readily admitted that they would engage in a transactional marriage if it meant that they could assure a better future for their children in another country (usually referring to the United States, Europe, or Australia). For example, Ivoire, the 45-year-old mother whose story is further illustrated in Case Study 3 (Chapter 8) expressed that she knew other women who went abroad to be the “wives” of men who would use them for sex and nothing else. When she explained this to me, my face must have revealed a bit of surprise, and she told me that, “I would go abroad to marry a man if it meant that I could improve the lives of my children, wouldn’t you though?” Others, like Marcelle, the oldest daughter from household 9, married a Rwandan man living in Canada that she had previously never met. While she confessed that he was young, and they could surely also find love in their relationship, this also allowed her to fulfill a gendered norm of becoming a wife, as well as supporting her and eventually her family’s ability to leave

Cameroon.

Households that were experiencing some of the most significant challenges spoke more about resettlement and what life would be like for them elsewhere, despite the reality that resettlement and moving outside of Cameroon had become a less feasible, or nearly impossible, option for them given changing humanitarian policy. Lila, a 30-year- old mother struggling to care for her three sons, two of which were autistic, illustrated this extreme hope in asking me:

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Do you know anyone that could sponsor or help us? I mean, I seriously need help.

I can’t sleep when I think about our circumstances and the future of my children

who aren’t going anywhere here. There are no resources to orient them here. I see

this every day, and it leaves me with such a sadness in my heart. But, I mean, if

we get to be resettled, over there, in your country (the U.S.), they can cure my

boys, right? That is what we are waiting for. That is what keeps me going.

Lila’s agony, as noted above, was linked with being able to fulfill her socio-cultural

expectation of being a good mother to her children, and going elsewhere with the

thoughts that this would increase her access to capital and the feasible options or

strategies within her map, or field. Lila later pulled me aside one day when I met her at

the store where she and her boyfriend worked. She looked back over her shoulder to

make sure her boyfriend was out of ear shot, and asked me if I knew of any rich benefactors who could sponsor her family. She quietly clarified that she was willing to

“do anything” if it meant her two autistic children would have the chance of being

“cured” (part of the hope and expectations she had of the United States):

You know, it isn’t for me, or him (pointing towards her boyfriend with a head

nod), but, for the kids (pause as she began crying)… I mean, with their autism, if

they stay in Cameroon they will just not get the help they need. But you know,

over in the United States, they could maybe even cure them! I would do anything

I swear, anything, to be able to get them into one of those American schools.

Those ones that can cure the kids.

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As illustrated above, over the course of my fieldwork the pervasive structural and physical violence against women emerged with force through my data. Nearly every household I engaged with confided in me that at least one woman in the household had experienced rape, and four of the women I worked with acquired HIV through their rape.

Another form of violence was being abandoned or feeling forced to engage in sex work for survival. Francoise explained to me in a candid moment during an informal conversation that we were having as we walked through the winding streets of the slum she was living in:

Do you know that now there are a lot of us refugees that have become prostitutes

in order to make sure our kids can eat? It is terrible. Sometimes we sell ourselves

for as little as 2,000 FCFA ($4) because we haven’t eaten, maybe we are

pregnant, and especially because we have children to feed and send to school so

they don’t have to do this. There is also, with limited options, swindling and theft

which has been born in our hearts, when we would have never engaged in such

activity before. But the UNHCR has pushed us to do it. To live. To survive.

Elizabeth’s (household 10) husband was living with them when I first arrived in the field in 2016. At the time, he explained to me that he had accepted to be a witness at the Arusha trials against war criminals from the Rwandan genocide as he was promised training, protection, and eventual resettlement in North America. Bitterly, he told me,

“that never happened, instead, I am living here in Cameroon, hiding, without a refugee status, and having to take care of my wife and children with no means.” When I returned to the field in 2017, I learned that he had moved to the Republic of Congo shortly

166 thereafter, and neither Elizabeth nor her children had heard anything from him or received any financial support since he left. Elizabeth felt forced to engage in sex work to provide for her children. She explained to me how the money she earned would help her son become a doctor so he could take care of her. As a woman without an education and whose husband had left, she explained to me that, “I don’t have a choice, I have to do what I have to do for my children!” Sex work was frequently employed as a way to get out of a current situation and improve the lives of others by mothers in 6 out of the 16 households that I worked with (or 6 out of the 9 female headed households).

However, the engagement in sex work was often explained to me in juxtaposition to the overall religious contexts of my research participants. In the discourse and actions around mobility, strategies, and hope, my dissertation’s sub-theme theme of faith as a form of social and cultural capital (see Section 5.3.2 Sub-theme 2) was ubiquitous. Faith was often presented as a means to justify the challenging choices that needed to be made in order to ensure better futures. Valerie, a rape survivor and a single mother of one from household 8, illustrated the way that faith justified her decision to engage in sex work:

You see, where I am at, I can’t lie to you. We suffer! There is no way I can make

enough money to support my daughter’s future just by cleaning clothes. I mean, I

have rent, I have my HIV medicine, I have… so much, it just is overwhelming. So

I know that there is always a market for women, and at the end of the month,

when I need to, I supplement with sex work. I mean, guys pay me for it… But

God, you know, he is really great! And he forgives! And with all of the money I

am able to save, hopefully my girl (her daughter) and I, we can move to the

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United States and live dignified lives, at least her (Valerie’s daughter), I have

already lost mine. But I have my faith, and God loves me. He will forgive me, and

he has something better planned for us eventually. Otherwise he wouldn’t put me

through this. I know God will help us. He won’t abandon us. There are moments

where I ask myself if he will, but I know that our God can’t do that.

Yet Valerie also emphasized her duties as a mother to ensure her daughter’s happiness, and confided to me how she had to work hard to hide the sacrifices she was making so as not to make her daughter feel bad. After all, most women explicitly referred to their children as “gifts from God” the way that Ernestine had done to me regarding Concilie on multiple occasions. Valerie relied on God to help her. Valerie told me that she had been really worried about her daughter, now 16, who on top of going through puberty was spending all of her time depressed in her room with her door closed, on her phone, talking with friends. When she asked her daughter about it, her daughter just said “You don’t think that I see what you are living through, I see our suffering!” Valerie’s daughter was underlining that she understood the suffering her mother was going through (even though she didn’t know about her mother’s HIV status), and that she was miserable because of it. Valerie remarked that her daughter was traumatized because she sees everything, including the fact that her mother is no longer going to the hospital when she is ill. Valerie explained to me that when she realized this, she started going more often to church and praying, asking for the strength to look healthy so that her daughter would not notice.

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Often I would observe religious ceremonies and prayers organized as a way to directly confront and ask forgiveness for the strategies that women engaged to achieve their aspirations, but that they were conflicted by because of the socio-cultural expectations of them within their communities and faith contexts. For example, during one of my participant observations with Antoinette she spoke to me about the ways in which she was asking God for forgiveness. Antoinette was sitting with her grandchildren eating when I arrived at her house. She told me that she was planning a mass on the 29th

(the day I was leaving) at her other son’s house (as the son she lived with is Muslim), in memory of her husband, her son, and her sister who had all been killed. She looked down and explained to me that it was in ensuring the survival of the rest of her children that she had sometimes engaged in sex work, or stole if she saw an opportunity. She explained to me that she hoped this mass would be able to ensure that their souls found where they

“needed to go.” She also hoped her soul would find where it “needed to go” when it was her time. She seemed to be thinking a lot about death these days, and brought it up several times along with her ailing health. She gave me a hug and told me to pray for her.

Lastly, the sub-theme theme of social networks as a form of social capital (see

Section 5.3.3 Sub-theme 3) was also strong through Ernestine and Concilie’s vignette.

For example, Xavier, the father from household 9, was easily able to convince one of the adult sons of Antoinette from household 3 to pay for his three older children’s education as there was promise of them being able to move and work elsewhere. However, the trajectories and expectations on those children were different, with the two boys moving into jobs, and the only girl (now a young woman), securing marriage overseas. Xavier’s

169 two sons were working, one as a journalist abroad and the other as a medical doctor in

Cameroon. The third child (a daughter), Marcelle, was about to move to Canada to be with her new-husband.

Successful precedents like this contributed to the overall map of what were feasible options to reach the aspiration of “going abroad,” and ensured that social networks would continue to support strategies that involved mobility in their community.

This is how Ernestine was able to secure the loans she needed to send Concilie abroad.

Both her Cameroonian and Rwandan refugee social networks saw opportunity in Concilie going to France, no matter what the circumstances were. One of the Cameroonian women who lent Ernestine money came to her store one day while I was there, and while

Ernestine had gone out back, she looked at me and said, “You know, even if Concilie doesn’t finish school, she can always find a husband that will help her get papers and money, so either way, as a beautiful young woman in France, she will be fine.” However, even Ernestine recognized that the generosity of her social network may not be able to be repaid. She later pulled out a paper from underneath a crate in her store. On it was a long list of people with the amounts of money that she owed each of them, she looked at me and said:

I recognize how generous everyone has been, but I keep this so people can’t

come and tell me I owe them something else! But people have been so generous.

My neighbor, the Cameroonian I told you about who you saw in the store from

my old neighborhood, we couldn’t have done it without her, really! I told her I

wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to pay, and she told me not to worry about it,

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but that she was sure that I would be able to somehow, and if not, it was a risk

they were willing to take as they knew what kind of opportunities girls could have

in France. And they love Concilie too.

Social networks were key forms of social capital relevant to the capacity of women to aspire. They provided financial support, advice, and helped to further justify the actions towards ensuring better futures elsewhere by contributing to the cause, such as supporting Concilie’s move to France. Yet, as described in Section 2.3 on Rwandan cultural context, access to capital across social networks was unequal along gendered lines. For example, one day when I ran into Belle at a women’s group meeting, she illustrated to me:

You know, this women’s group meeting is kind of my only source for economic

and social support. It is different for us (women). My husband, he leaves in the

morning and gets support from so many different people to support his small

businesses, where he sells fuel around town. But for us (women), it is like the

people with those business opportunities don’t trust us as much, so we have to just

figure things out on our own. That is why sometimes you will see women doing

things that men would never do, you know, like being out late at night with men

for money… I mean, when we moved here, we didn’t get refugee papers, and the

Rwandan community association was kind to help my husband purchase a

residency permit, but for the rest of us (herself and her children), we just have to

be careful not to run into the police.

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6.2 Discussion

Concilie and Ernestine’s story, combined with supporting data from additional households above, sheds light on how women’s socio-cultural contexts and limited access to the social and cultural capital needed limits their ability to read the maps needed to successfully achieve their aspirations. Instead, because of the limited access to key social and cultural capital, they tap into their agency to engage other strategies that may be looked down upon, justifying their strategies as “necessary steps” towards fulfilling their obligations as mothers. Aspirations of mothers, like Ernestine, often centered on their children.

Ernestine and Concilie’s aspirations centered on Concilie being able to build a place for herself in a secure place outside of Cameroon. To them, Cameroon was full of violent precedents including the death of Sylvain, Concilie’s father and Ernestine’s husband, because of an undiagnosed heart condition related to stress and poverty.

Additional aspirations once they were able to successfully get Concilie out of Cameroon were for her to be able to carve out a place for herself somewhere, either in France or another country through legal papers and for her to get married and start a family. While

Concilie was also always very focused on finding work, although Ernestine never talked about this in my interactions with her in terms of her priority aspirations.

While among refugees, the act of relocating or migrating is often portrayed as part of a broader framework of suffering and exclusion, to refugees, it can also be considered a hopeful solution to a terrible problem (Kleist, 2016b). Indeed, analyzing my data through the conceptual model of a capacity to aspire (see Figure 1), it became evident

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that mobility and aspirations were intertwined with the possibility of a better life

elsewhere on the horizon. It was the ways in which aspirations and mobility were linked

that allowed Ernestine to not even reflect on the possible insecurity in the Democratic

Republic of Congo as a factor that would hold her back from allowing Concilie to move

there for a job that did ultimately did not end up working out and which allowed her to send Concilie to France under unclear circumstances.

Using my conceptual model of the capacity to aspire (see Figure 1), it also became clear that precedents were central in helping to guide both the development of aspirations, and devise strategies towards reaching them. I also found that the lack of

precedents, or a number of failed attempts, could erode at the overall hope of the sub-

units within households that I was working with. When I first met Ernestine and Concilie,

they both cried regularly, and Ernestine’s health was very fragile, with the threat of her

having another nervous breakdown always looming over their heads. This was following

numerous hardships, including the death of her husband and attacks on her daughter, as

well as what seemed an endless string of failures in achieving their aspirations. However,

when I visited Ernestine after Concilie had traveled to France, despite her living

conditions having arguably worsened, she was brimming with hope. She seemed

healthier because of this, and in large part explained that finally they were able to get

Concilie out of Cameroon. A precedent towards their larger aspirations had been met.

This conceptual model reveals that being able to achieve at least occasional success

towards achieving aspirations is a key factor in continuing to promote hope among marginalized populations that should be taken seriously by social service providers.

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However, using my conceptual model, it is not sufficient to only consider what the aspirations of the populations being studied are, but to understand the broader map or field, including possible limiting structures, within which they are operating. Through my research, it became clear that the unknown, or uncertainty, limited many of my research participants’ abilities to fully understand the map they were working within and how the structures that could support or limit them worked, if they were even aware of these structures in the first place. This uncertainty, however, also influenced strategies insofar as it allowed for my research participants to engage in strategies related to mobility, or what they explained to be temporary sacrifices such as sex work or non-compliance to their chronic healthcare regimens if it meant they would be able to achieve their aspirations of going elsewhere.

One structure that emerged as important to navigating this aspirational map specific to the context of immigration and refugees was the UNHCR’s and host country government’s immigration-related policy. If these structures were accessed and accepted to support the refugee or immigrant, they could provide access to capital including health, education, and other social services. They also ensured international protection from persecution and exploitation. The UNHCR was the first structure that Ernestine went to after Concilie was threatened by a young Cameroonian man in order to seek support to find more secure housing. The UNHCR also determined access to travel documents that were required to provide physical navigational capacity outside of Cameroon to refugees.

Concilie is an ambitious young woman who applied for work and educational opportunities globally but did not understand all of the requirements necessary to see this

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through. In order to accept one of these opportunities, she needed a passport or a travel document issued by the UNHCR. If she had been aware of this, or more aware of how to navigate the map towards her aspirations, she may have begun working on securing these documents earlier and not missed the opportunity for what appeared to be a legitimate expatriate opportunity in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

Some structures on this map served as barriers or sources of fear to her. For example, with the Cessation Clause, she would be forced to work directly with the

Rwandan Embassy to be issued a passport if she wanted to travel, meaning that she would have to register herself and approach an entity (the current Rwandan Government) that her parents fled in fear, and that caused them to become refugees in the first place.

This led her to work harder to find a solution before the expiration of her refugee status so that she would not run out of time before she was forced to engage with the Rwandan

Embassy. In other words, the Cessation Clause hampered Concilie’s ability to imagine the desired future for herself that she wanted, and caused her to resort to clandestine migration to Europe.

As the theme of this case study illustrated, other factors to consider as obstacles or opportunities on the map towards aspirations are motivational factors behind certain strategies and socio-cultural expectations of women. For example, the extreme violence that many women experienced, including harassment, insecurity, and gender-based violence could lead them to engage in strategies that more privileged persons in society may not have to resort to in order to achieve their aspirations. Often times this harassment and violence had serious health consequences, including HIV and psychological distress

175 among several of my research participants. When I first met Ernestine and Concilie, as two women living alone and in fear within their own neighborhoods because of threats of violence and past experiences with violence, they were willing to engage in strategies even if the link between those strategies and their ultimate aspirations was not clear. In some ways, they were engaging strategies for their own survival. In terms of socio- cultural expectations, many of the aspirations of young women including Concilie focused on an expectation of them, getting married. While mothers like Ernestine were engaging in strategies to support that aspiration, one could argue that she was also performing motherhood as expected in the Rwandan cultural context where she should be doing everything to can to make sure her daughter becomes a successful woman. Getting married and having children was a key part to Concilie becoming a successful Rwandan woman.

In order to effectively navigate these maps and the broader contexts and structures that the maps were comprised of, my research participants needed to pull on their social, cultural, and economic capital. One form of social capital that came up in the context of decisions to engage in mobility was the fact that refugee women felt they did not entirely

“belong” and were seeking (via aspirations/agency) a place where they could “belong.”

This was another way in which this conceptual model of the capacity to aspire helped me to understand how migration and leaving, or other strategies linked with mobility, were so easy to take. While refugee women did technically “belong” to different social networks and religious groups they were part of, when bringing up “belonging” it was often linked with their legal status, and living somewhere that they felt they had an

176 official and long-term right to be there, and not one that could be stripped away at any moment. The social capital of belonging was often missing, but being sought, by refugee women.

Social and faith networks were also an important form of social capital that influenced refugee women’s capacity to aspire. Their broader social networks often shared the cultural and social gendered norms with the household sub-units I worked with. This social capital could also be transformed into important economic capital that could support navigational capacity on the map of aspirations. For example, if the household sub-units were connected to social networks who had the means to do so, they would often provide substantial support towards supporting international moves. For example, Ernestine was able to tap into the Rwandan community that had known her husband to borrow money, and a Cameroonian neighbor that had become an important source of social support (and social capital) to her that gave her money to support her finding relative safety and success for her daughter. The Rwandan social networks also shared the cultural and gendered expectations of Rwandan women, understanding why

Ernestine was asking for money without questions. I would also argue that the

Cameroonian woman empathized with Concilie in a similar way, even though they did not share the same culture.

In this way, children were also a form of social and cultural capital. Ernestine and

Sylvain had tried for a decade to have a child, and when Concilie arrived she allowed

Ernestine to fulfill her expected role as a mother (see background on Rwandan cultural context and the idea that women are on earth to be mothers in Section 2.3). The fact that

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Concilie was a gift from God allowed Ernestine to incur debt that she saw no possibility

of paying back without a second thought. The impossible debt was justified to Ernestine

as long as it meant that her daughter would be able to leave and start her life over

elsewhere. This alone helped Ernestine, like many other mothers, justify and live with the

uncertainty in their children’s traveling to “elsewhere.”

Being a mother influenced Concilie’s aspirations, as well as her navigational capacity given that it made her more important to the Rwandan community (as well as her goals to support her daughter in also finding marriage overseas and being able to

fulfill her societal role). Additional intentions of the investment in children may be

masked through the ways in which motherhood is performed through these socio-cultural

expectations of women. As noted earlier (see Section 6.1), Elizabeth explicitly spoke of her son as a form of capital and explained to me that while she did not enjoy sex work, when he became a doctor she could stop and he could take care of her.

Another form of cultural capital that emerged over the course of my dissertation that refugee women did have was their pasts. On numerous occasions over the course of

my research I heard refugees telling me that they just had to “tell the stories of their past

right” in order to be able to access key structures like the UNHCR, and the subsequent

capital in the form of social and economic support that accompanied access to the

UNHCR. For this reason, they always insisted on telling it. I argue this was in part as a

way to explain to me the broader reasons why they undertook certain strategies that they

were morally conflicted by. Focusing on the challenges of their pasts underlined why

they had to take a “necessary action” to change their trajectories moving forward. Their

178 pasts as a form of cultural capital allowed them to explain why they undertook some strategies in a way that still allowed them to cast themselves as women fulfilling society’s expectations of them. Importantly, this form of cultural capital allowed them to maintain their dignity.

All of the above affected Ernestine and Concilie’s capacity to aspire in important ways. They exerted their agency in aspiring to send Concilie to France when the opportunity presented itself because their map was fraught with violence and the uncertainty of anywhere else was better than the challenges in their daily lives. They also had tried several other channels for Concilie to leave Cameroon that were unsuccessful, so they did not want to pass this opportunity up. They had access to limited structures and capital to help them come up with alternative solutions to address their challenges and find other means towards achieving their aspirations.

At the end of my fieldwork, as mentioned above, Concilie’s asylum status was still pending, and she was still working for the man who brought her to France, but seemed resigned to accept the situation until she had legal papers in the country. Despite being refugees, both Ernestine and Concilie argued from their disparate parts of the world, their aspirations would not be crushed. No matter how hard people tried to crush their aspirations by telling them they did not belong, or the depth of challenges they were confronted with. Despite increasing xenophobia, including calling them Rwandaise or genocidaires and reminding them that they did not belong, Ernestine and Concilie demonstrated through their practices that even as policies and circumstances became more and more challenging, a perpetual drive towards a better future meant that they

179 were convinced that no one could take their dreams from them. They would continue to pursue these aspirations at all costs. It was just that their navigational capacity in the broader context they lived in was limited, leaving them to feel they needed to take any opportunity that presented itself and leverage the capital they did have access to in order to do this.

Ernestine and Concilie’s aspirations were for Concilie to be able to leave

Cameroon in the hopes of her living a decent life out of the shadow of the violence and challenges that plagued her life. For this reason, they considered the fact that they were able to succeed in supporting Concilie’s move to France as an accomplishment. Hope allowed for Ernestine and Concilie to successfully achieve their aspiration of getting

Concilie out of Cameroon. Within the gendered expectations and options available to her, even if she had to engage in sex work or other “undesirable” forms of employment for a short period, the potential short-term effects associated with this seemed unimportant.

Ernestine argued that if Concilie was able to succeed in France, somehow, as an asylum seeker, get married, and have a family, than all of the debt she incurred would have been worth it.

As noted above, Ernestine’s investment in Concilie was also part of her investing in her social capital (her child) in order to provide social and economic capital in the long-run. In Ernestine’s understanding of her aspirational map, this was a way for her to maneuver through the field of limiting structures and barriers and also eventually leave

Cameroon. Ernestine emphasized that leaving Cameroon would free her from having to tell her awful story all the time. She lamented to me on numerous occasions that she was

180 exhausted at having to repeat her story and prove her need for protection and her right to remain a refugee every year. She told me that she did not even really care how much debt she had incurred, the most important thing was the ultimate outcome of her daughter’s success, as defined hazily as being safe, happy, and elsewhere. And this had engaged

Ernestine’s path to follow her daughter.

Reflecting on Ortner’s (2006) definition of agency discussed in Chapter 3, this is a prime example of the ways in which agents act within their social, cultural, and gendered contexts, both in defining their aspirations, and devising and acting on strategies to achieve these aspirations. Using the capacity to aspire framework sheds new light on agency by providing a conceptual model through which we can understand how it is operationalized. It also casts agency as aspirations, but demonstrates that strategies to achieve these aspirations, or agency, are something separate. These strategies can be understood by identifying the various forms of social, cultural, and economic capital that can support the ability to navigate a greater field full of structures that can serve as limiting obstacles or potential opportunities. It is in both understanding these structures, and both having and knowing which forms of capital to tap into to access important structures relevant to aspirations, that agents can increase their capacity to aspire.

Importantly, as demonstrated by the ebbs and flows of Ernestine and Concilie’s hope as their circumstances towards achieving their aspirations changed. When I first met them they seemed hopeless, and as they tried and failed strategies towards achieving their aspirations, linked to their limited navigational capacity and understanding of the map towards their aspiration of a better future elsewhere for Concilie, their hopelessness

181 seemed to grow. This did not mean that they stopped trying different strategies, but there was a tangible improvement in the morale and psychological well-being of Ernestine once Concilie was able to leave Cameroon for France. The applied implications of identifying and reducing barriers to navigational capacity on their navigational maps and increasing access to key structures that can support refugees’ capacity to aspire therefore can potentially have important effects on their psycho-social well-being. This is a hypothesis worth testing through the operationalization of the capacity to aspire conceptual model in refugee social service program design.

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Chapter 7: Case Study 2: “I feel like I am becoming a burden”: expectations of sacrifice

Using my conceptual model of the capacity to aspire (Figure 1), over the course of my data collection I observed and heard from women on many occasions about the gendered expectations of sacrifice that they felt they had to make. This was particularly apparent as household level circumstances, particularly increasingly strained access to capital as a result of larger changes to their aspirational maps, changed. While in these circumstances, the aspirations would stay the same, the means to achieve them had to change as other strategies either failed, or were no longer options because of the loss of an important source of capital (including access to the UNHCR). These new strategies would often include sacrifices. Often women were the first who were expected to make these sacrifices, as they articulated to me. For example, women who had previously been careful about caring for their chronic health issues would start pill-splitting (taking lower than prescribed doses of their medicines, particularly in the case of hypertension, HIV, and diabetes) or skipping doctor’s visits or medicine if it freed up household resources that could be invested as economic capital towards their aspirations for their children.

Antoinette, an HIV positive and hypertensive older widow who was now living with one of her adult sons, his wife, and her three grandchildren, elaborated:

I am a burden on my son. Us, older persons with chronic health conditions, we are

expensive. My son told me he is tired of paying for my transportation to go and

beg the UNHCR to help me when they never come through anymore.

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While the UNHCR, as noted in the previous chapter, was a central structure in the lives of many of the refugees I worked with, and perhaps the most prominent structures that they referred to as we explored their aspirational maps, Rwandan refugees also reiterated to me that they did not want to be dependent through their words and actions.

They wanted dignity and independence, but they also did not want to be forced against their will to interact with the Rwandan Embassy which would be inevitable if they lost their refugee status. Furthermore, for mothers with chronic health conditions, maintaining access to the UNHCR allowed them to receive some subsidies and support to care for their often expensive chronic health conditions. While this seems counterintuitive to seeking independence, because their aspirations were focused especially on their children’s aspirations, this support from the UNHCR was a key source of capital on their maps that allowed them to free up household resources for their children. In this way, household aspirations converged. Many echoed that they only wanted their refugee papers which would allow them to live without significant harassment in Cameroon, but that they did not want to be dependent on aid. Their hope and aspirations hinged on wanting their households to be autonomous units that could support their aspirations.

This was achieved through investing in certain “key household members” that became apparent to me as mothers referred to them as “priorities” and as I began to observe sacrifices such as pill-splitting, and when I asked them about these sacrifices they would frame them in terms of freeing up resources (economic capital) for their children.

After making these observations, I began to ask explicit questions in my initial interviews about who are the key members of a household. My women research

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participants made it very clear in their responses and actions that it was their children. For

example, when asking mothers about their aspirations, they would not mention anything

about their own health or well-being, but rather focus on their children. When I asked

young persons (over the age of 18) about their aspirations, they would most often

articulate explicit aspirations related to themselves that mirrored those of their mothers.

These sacrifices manifested themselves and were explained by women as a desire to avoid becoming a burden on their children. The socio-cultural expectations of them were to support their children’s success, not impede it. These dynamics resulted in expectations of sacrifice that I observed to weigh heavily on women as a strategy that needed to be employed when obstacles on their aspirational maps became overwhelming.

In this chapter, I focus mainly on non-compliance to chronic health regimens as an illustration of these gendered expectations of sacrifice that affected women’s lives.

Chronic health conditions were ubiquitous throughout the Rwandan urban refugee community, and women were particularly affected. In every household that I focused on in my sub-set of 16 refugee households, at least one person, often the mother, was living with a serious chronic health condition including diabetes, hypertension, and HIV which were particularly prevalent based on self-report. These conditions require long-term and expensive follow-up. These chronic health conditions were persistent across demographic categories of women and girls: some of those affected were widows, some of them were separated from their husbands, some of them were single, unaccompanied women, some were children, and some of them were elderly. Throughout my time spent with mothers, they would always ask how they were supposed to take care of themselves with

185 everything else on their shoulders. This concept of ailing mothers and grandmothers becoming a burden was also articulated by other household members. Among several younger persons, I heard whispers of the challenge of continuing to support their aging mothers in ways that, as Jean Bosco articulated, “holds us back from building our own lives.”

I will illustrate the theme of mothers with chronic health conditions “becoming a burden” and the ways in which this changes household-level strategies on their aspirational map through a vignette of Jeannette and her two sons, Pierre and Bernard.

The data used to build this vignette comes from three years of interviews and participant observation with their household. Their story illustrates the ways in which household members’ strategies towards their aspirations change as their household circumstances change. In other words, this vignette illustrates the ways in which, as austerity increases, or the field on which their aspirations are mapped changes, mothers make sacrifices and adjustments in order to ensure the aspirations of their children.

Jeannette and her sons fled Rwanda in 2006, much later than many of the other refugees I worked with. However, their story mirrors those of many other refugees globally in that they were initially separated during their flight. Pierre and Bernard fled in a different direction than their mother. Subsequently, they spent 10 years away from their mother before the Red Cross was able to reunite them. By that time Jeannette was living in Cameroon, and as a family, they opted to have Pierre and Bernard relocate from

Kenya, where they were living, to be with their mother. As they had all been separated initially, their aspirations over those 10 years hinged on finding each other again.

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However, once they were together, as Pierre and Bernard were quickly becoming young

men, Jeannette’s aspirations changed. They were together now, but she saw herself as an

obstacle to their futures, and worried that she was becoming a burden.

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I first met Jeannette at a wedding between two Rwandan refugees that I was invited to early in my fieldwork. We were sitting at the same table and began talking.

When I introduced myself as a researcher and clarified that I was, at the time, interested

in exploring hope and resilience, she insisted I come to her house so she could share her

story. She explained to me that she understood my research, and used to be a social

worker back in Rwanda, working with women who had survived gender-based violence.

At that, she clenched her jaw and told me that she would tell her story, but that

everything ended the day she became a rape survivor herself, the same day her husband

was brutally murdered in front of her and she lost her children. After her sharing the

enormous tragedy she had lived through in her life in the matter of a few sentences, I told

her that of course I would be able to come to her house. We decided that I would come

the next day after she told me where to take a taxi and gave me her phone number so that

I could call her when I arrived. Thinking about the expectations that often hinged on me

simply visiting (see Section 4.2 on Ethical considerations), I made sure that she

understood that I was not working with the UNHCR or another agency. I found

significant confusion early on when I introduced myself and my background to my

research participants. This included explaining that I used to work in the humanitarian

sector, but I was now conducting research as I was dissatisfied with the impact we were

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making and the seeming disjuncture between the desires of program participants and the

activities we implemented. It had been several years since I had worked in Cameroon and

I barely knew anyone working with any of the humanitarian agencies anymore given the

high and frequent turnover. However, when refugees heard about my previous work as a

humanitarian, I was often under the impression that they thought this meant I could do

something to improve their situations. I also did not want her to hinge her hopes on

finding her sons on me, but she was the first woman I had met who was still separated

from her children, as most of the other households I worked with had either confirmed

that their lost family members were living elsewhere, had passed away, or had been

reunited by the time I began my fieldwork.

The next day I took a taxi to the main intersection where Jeannette asked me to

meet her. When I arrived I tried to call her but her phone went to voicemail. I thought

maybe she had changed her mind about wanting to talk to me, but I sent her a text

message just in case. I waited for 15 minutes, and when I began to confirm in my head

that she must have decided she did not want to talk with me, I saw her walking slowly up

the hill to meet me. She came over and gave me a hug, held my hand, and started leading

me back into a busy neighborhood behind a number of crowded bus-stations where she

lived. When we first arrived at her house I was a bit surprised. I knew she was alone, but

the house seemed large and upper-middle class from the outside, with a large wall

surrounding the compound. When we entered I noticed an old Mercedes parked in the courtyard. She pointed to the larger house and disclosed that was where her landlord and his family lived. They knew each other from her Jehovah’s Witness church, and had

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invited her to rent a room in the back of their house. I then saw the row of small one-

room studios towards the back of the house. There were four different apartments that

were being rented by different tenants, all from their church.

When she opened the door to her studio, I saw a small room with a mattress on the ground. Jeannette excitedly told me that she would sleep there with her two sons in a

few short days. When I asked her what she meant, she told me that she was about to be

reunited with her two sons. She pointed to a picture of a man on her wall and told me that

was her late husband. She elaborated that the evening her husband was murdered, her and

her sons fled in different directions and were separated across three different countries

over the past 10 years. “What we have lived through in the past 10 years, I wouldn’t wish

it on anyone over the course of three lifetimes,” she explained, but curiously, she had a

smile on her face. She went on, while softly pulling at some fraying strings on the corner

of her long skirt that now she thought her life would turn around. She would be with her

boys again after 10 long years of separation. “Surely we will rebuild our lives,” she told

me.

However, she explained that her life was riddled with challenges as the assistance

she previously received from the UNHCR as a widow, older woman, and person living

with chronic health conditions, had been cut. She lowered her voice and looked around to

make sure no one was standing near the open door, and revealed that she had several

chronic health issues including hypertension and HIV, which required continuous

medical check-ups and medicine. She worried now that spending money on those things

would not be possible. She told me that she refused to spend money on those things if it

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took away from being able to invest in sending her sons to a form of trade school or

something that would allow them to advance their lives. She could not justify bringing

them to Cameroon to live with her, if she could not find a way to ensure that they would

succeed.

She handed me a chipped cup with piping hot tea in it, and launched into her

household’s story. Similarly to Ernestine, she insisted that I could not adequately

understand her life, without understanding her history.

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Jeannette shook her head softly, explaining that her situation was different from

many other community members. However, I found strong parallels in some of the

situations of the Rwandan refugees who had been living in the Central African Republic

and fled to Cameroon around the same time that Jeannette had in terms of interactions

with the UNHCR and integration into established social networks. Jeannette and her sons

had not fled Rwanda during the war. She looked at me with a sad smile and told me, “our

mistake was that we witnessed the atrocities like everyone else, but decided to stay and

try and rebuild the country.” She revealed to me that the day that sealed her fate perhaps

was the day that she, her husband, and her two sons all lay crouching behind a wooden shed in the backyard of the Catholic Church near the town’s center. Jeannette, a government social worker, her sons Pierre and Bernard, and her husband, had heard the church would be a safe place to hide for what people called “moderate Hutus” like themselves who refused to participate in the killing. Jeannette’s husband had been approached by local genocidaires. They handed him machetes, one each for him, his

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sons, and his wife, and ordered that they round up and kill their Tutsi neighbors.

Jeannette’s husband came home that day trembling, asking what he should do. The men

would surely not be pleased to learn that the killing tools provided to them had not been

used as planned. It would be considered a waste. And all of the sudden, their family

would have gone from being labeled as Hutu, to being labeled as traitors. Fearing for

their lives, they warned their Tutsi neighbors, and fled with them to the local church.

When they arrived, the parishioner who was rounding up the Tutsis to hide recognized Jeannette and her family, telling them to leave. Jeannette told me that she remembered his voice shaking a bit as he told them that they could not be there. Jeannette sensed an ominous tone to the parishioner’s voice as well, but she was not sure if that was just hindsight. The parishioner was a young man that she often saw either praying at the church, or working on various construction sites around town. He always seemed quiet and pleasant, so she was not surprised to see him trying to help others out. But she sensed that something was awry, and suggested to her husband and son that they wait outside and hide.

Jeannette paused for a moment, asking me if I needed anything else as I sipped on my tea. I shook my head to indicate that I did not. She then looked over at a picture on the wall of her two sons while she and I sat in plastic chairs in her small studio. She remembered distinctly how hunger began to make her stomach rumble, and she remembered that none of them had eaten since the previous evening. She remembered looking at her sons, Pierre and Bernard. Their eyelids were drooping. They looked exhausted. Two and three years old and they were being exposed to something that they

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thought could only be part of their worst nightmares. Even as they heard about the

violence unfolding on their radio, as they started to hear their friends and neighbors

talking about their Tutsi friends and neighbors in unsettling ways, Pierre and Bernard

later confided to me during one of our walks that they figured it was only a fleeting

moment of political strife that would surely end. Of course, it would end. Just not in the

peaceful way they had hoped or imagined.

Jeannette explained to me that from their hiding place, she had been about to

suggest that they all go home and eat, when they heard the sound of several men’s voices

from the other side of the church, and decided to stay hidden a little while longer. They

looked up and saw the men that had tried to recruit Jeannette’s husband walking toward

the church. All of their eyes were glazed over. She thought that this was perhaps from drinking, smoking, or fatigue. Jeannette was a social worker and felt she had seen that familiar look before from kids who got themselves into trouble. They were all carrying machetes, some of them appeared to be coated in what she hoped was rust, or palm oil, but she later realized it was blood. In front of the group of men, Jeannette and her husband recognized the town’s mayor. From where they were hiding they heard the mayor saying something about orders from the Government, and then he barked several other orders quickly at them that Jeannette and her family could not understand from where they were hiding.

Jeannette told to me how they quickly deduced what the orders were though, as the men rushed into the church, greeted at the entrance by the parishioner who had claimed to be hiding Tutsis to help them. Jeannette gasped in horror as she realized he

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was showing them where everyone was hidden. He was complicit to this killing. The

screams that came next are something that Jeannette feared she would never be able to

erase from her mind. She recalled, “everything went black as I choked back tears, covered my children’s ears, and looked at my husband who was hunched over praying.

We knew now that we could not leave our hiding spot anytime soon.” Jeannette further

explained how they huddled together and lied in wait for several hours. After the

screaming stopped. After everyone left and seemed to be on a mission to somewhere else.

Until the quiet night enveloped them, and they fled towards a neighboring town where

Jeannette’s sister lived, to hide there until this horror was over. “I will never be able to

erase the images, the sounds, of those screams, of death, from my mind,” Jeannette told

me with a shaking voice.

Jeannette explained that after that “wretched night,” and the “wretched months”

that followed, the new Rwandan Patriotic Fund (RPF) led Government issued a request

for witnesses. Or rather, they published a request that had been issued by an independent

commission, the International Criminal Court, who was holding hearings in Arusha,

Tanzania, to prosecute those who had orchestrated mass violence during the genocide.

Jeannette and her husband had relived the nightmare every night, and finally, her husband

confided that he could not take it any longer. Jeannette remembered, “He told me that his

silence would mean complicity, and he did not want to risk having to explain his

whereabouts and what he did to the local courts that were pursuing those who

implemented the genocide at lower levels.” Jeannette continued that her husband had

heard that the parishioner and Mayor of his town, the men they had observed killing

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Tutsis, were on trial in Arusha. Witnesses were being sought to testify to the violence that the parishioner and Mayor, among others, had orchestrated. In return for their testimony, witnesses would be assured international protection, support to be resettled in third countries if they felt their lives in Rwanda would be at risk as a result of their testimony, or secure government positions with the new Rwandan Patriotic Front led government.

Jeannette’s husband decided he would go to testify against these two men who they witnessed committing what would be called in Arusha “crimes against humanity.” He thought that it would be too risky to involve Jeannette or their sons. While the promises and reassurances were offered, Jeannette’s husband was skeptical about to what extent witnesses could be protected from the cronies of those men who were still walking free.

But to relieve their conscience, and ensure justice was served, Jeannette justified that he saw no other option but to go and testify.

He called the phone number for the commission organizing the research of witnesses, and quietly made his way to Kigali, boarded a plane, and went to Arusha.

Jeannette described to me, a tinge of pride in her voice that her husband testified with a powerful and emotional account of what he had witnessed that day from behind the shed.

From what Jeannette remembers, he was shaken and exhausted by the end. The

International Criminal Court provided him with a document that provided him international protection. The court officials explained that this meant if he felt his life or that of his family was in danger, he could use this document to justify his right to be a refugee or be granted asylum to the UNHCR or government in a different country.

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However, Jeannette recalled that her husband was greeted with warmth by the

government officials who helped to facilitate his travel to Arusha upon his return. He was

offered a mid-level civil servant position with the national intelligence service, and upon

discussion with his family, they decided to take the job offer. He thought this could be an

opportunity for them to continue to live in their country, avoiding the fate of becoming

refugees that had befallen so many other Rwandans in recent years.

At first, this new job seemed to be more than a dream come true. Jeannette told

me that she felt blessed that Pierre and Bernard were able to grow up attending a private

school thanks to the salary her husband received. Jeannette and her husband learned that

the two men that Jeannette’s husband had testified against had been sentenced and put in

prison, ending their concerns that the men would be freed and come after them. Their lives continued peacefully in this way for 9 years, until one evening in 2006, after Pierre

and Bernard had returned from school and they were all sitting around the dinner table

getting ready to eat a meal of cooked cassava leaves with goat meat and boiled green

plantains, a note was slipped under their door. Jeannette’s husband went to see what it

was, and upon reading it, Jeannette remembered: “his expression turned dark, and he

slipped it in his pocket.” Jeannette explained that she did not want to make a scene in front of Pierre and Bernard, so they finished eating, but she then she asked her sons to go

to their room on the other end of their spacious house and finish their homework.

Jeannette looked at her husband, asking him what the letter said. He held it out,

his hand slightly trembling, and saw scribbled across a newspaper article about the

convictions of the two men he had testified against, “Faites attention” (You better be

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careful). Jeannette asked her husband if anything was going on at work that may have

triggered this threat. He said he was not sure, although he suggested that some people seemed to be jealous about rumors of his upcoming promotion at work. He brushed it off though. Nine years had already passed with no major event, surely they would be fine and were just overthinking things. The way this threat was brushed off by Jeannette’s husband seemed significant to me.

The next few days, Jeannette and her husband were extra jumpy. One evening when a storm hit, they swore they heard footsteps on the roof, but it turned out to be nothing more than heavy rain. The following day Jeannette swore she saw someone slinking around her house, and when she saw a shadow appear at the doorstep, she jumped, only to look up and see her neighbor at the door inquiring to see if she would be able to watch their chickens over the next two days while they were traveling for a wedding. After a few more weeks, they began to be less easily startled. Jeannette and her husband discussed that it was perhaps some children playing a cruel joke, or family members of those in prison issuing an empty threat years later. Things began to feel normal gain.

Jeannette shook her head, describing how normal the day that changed their lives again had started. She recalled that she was finishing a dress that her neighbor had asked her to alter. She was stitching the last of the seam of the white dress that would be worn in her neighbor’s daughter’s first Communion, when she saw her husband rush in, slamming the door behind him. He asked where Pierre and Bernard were, and Jeannette made a motion towards the back of the house, saying they were working on some of their

196 math homework from the day. She looked at him quizzically, asking why he was home from work so early.

Out of breath, he said he had been at a meeting in town, and when he left, he was approached by a man on the street who showed him that he had a gun under his shirt and asked him to come with him into an empty lot. He had refused, and instead took off running towards his house. Jeannette revealed to me how she realized how he had made a mistake in coming to his house, where all of his family was, but did not say anything like this to him. It was now twelve years after the genocide and nine years since he had provided the damning testimony in Arusha. Calm had largely returned to Rwanda, and he was not sure what was happening, but imagined this must be linked to the letter in some way. He began to cry, begging Jeannette for forgiveness in taking the job offer and not fleeing with them as refugees years ago when he had first returned from Arusha. This was the only time that Jeannette’s narrative hinted of him feeling that his actions or decisions were related to their fate. She was less harsh on him than she was with herself in that way.

Jeannette looked over at me and told me that men often did not think about these kinds of things, the way women did. She said, “I don’t know, maybe men just don’t think about becoming a burden on their families the way we mothers do, you know? Or maybe it is just our Rwandan men, but anyhow, he was the one who was supporting us...”

And then, Jeannette disclosed to me that she heard a loud crack. Before she could realize what happened, Jeannette’s husband fell to the floor. She realized the crack was a bullet, and he had been shot. She looked at me with a surprisingly nearly emotionless

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expression, telling me how she remembered running towards him, but then heard another

loud crack, and another, and she ran towards the back of her house. She remembered the

door being knocked down with force, several more cracks, and then the men bursting into

the bedroom where she was hiding. She remembered them forcing themselves on her, and

in her shock, and fear that if she refused she would be killed, her submission to what she

felt was her fate. She remembered Pierre and Bernard in the other room though, and

wanted to warn them to leave, so she screamed. She screamed, “run, run, run, leave this

place forever!” and the men did not seem to register that she may be screaming to

someone else in the house, as they continued raping her. They left her laying on the ground, crying and shaking, and she pulled herself up once she was sure that they were gone. She registered her husband’s limp body, her sons’ absences, and then threw on some clothes and grabbed a small bag of belongings before heading outside to find Pierre and Bernard, and leave Rwanda. She looked at me and told me, “I knew at that moment, I was about to become a refugee.”

She made sure to grab one thing before leaving, the letter from the International

Criminal Court in Arusha. With that, she fled, in what she hoped was the direction her sons, Pierre and Bernard, had left. Jeannette explained to me how she had tried so hard to find a trace of her sons. She looked at the footprints, she called their names, and then she decided to run towards a neighbor’s house. She asked if they had seen them, and when they told her they had not, she fled, without saying another word, towards Uganda.

Jeannette had family in Uganda, and they had visited once. She figured her sons would

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have gone in that direction. She told me at the time she was sure that she would find them

there.

A car driving down the road saw Jeannette and picked her up. It was heading to

Kampala, where her family lived in Uganda, and offered her a ride. They rode in silence

until she arrived, knocking at the door, seeing her cousin’s face as the door creaked open,

and finally, falling to the ground crying. She had not been able to cry yet, she had just

kept going in shock, but when she saw the surprise on her cousin’s face, she knew that

Pierre and Bernard were not there. She had lost her husband, and now, had no idea where

in the world her sons could possibly be.

For Jeannette, her next days revolved around finding her sons. She went to the

UNHCR’s office and registered as a refugee, showing her husband’s paper, and

explaining the violent circumstances under which she had lost him. They shook their

heads, as if in disbelief. It had been over a decade since the initial flux of Rwandan

refugees arriving in Uganda, and often times when they did arrive, the UNHCR official

told Jeannette how they felt their stories were made up. However, he reassured Jeannette that her testimony had too much evidence backing it up to take her story with the skepticism that enshrouded many other cases.

The UNHCR suggested three next courses of action. The first was to issue a notice to the Red Cross and UNHCR that she was looking for her sons, and to provide

details on where she was living. The second was to suggest that she move to another

country, and they offered to facilitate her move to Yaoundé, Cameroon, where there were

a number of other Rwandan Hutu refugees. The UNHCR officials advised her that given

199 the violent circumstances under which she had fled she should try to physically distance herself from Rwanda. Uganda was still in close proximity to Rwanda, and there were rumors of networks linked with the government acting as spies within the Rwandan refugee community. They stressed that in Uganda, her life may still be in danger. Lastly, they suggested that given the violence that she had experienced prior to leaving, she go to a hospital and make sure that she had not been infected with any sexually transmitted infections.

In shock, Jeannette explained that she went through the motions to put the alert out for her sons, prepare her move to Yaoundé, and headed to the hospital. When she got to the hospital they told her that she had contracted chlamydia and put her on a course of antibiotics. They also drew her blood for a host of other tests, including HIV. Everything seemed like it was happening to someone else. Jeannette was in disbelief that her life could have changed this much in a matter of a week. When the nurse and doctor came back in later that evening, they informed her that her HIV test was inconclusive, they were not sure if she was infected or not. They told her that it may be too early, and that she should get tested again in 3 months, and avoid any sexual relations until then.

Jeannette shook her head, she had not divulged anything else to the medical personnel, but she knew that sexual relations were the last thing on her mind at the moment. At the same time, she felt overwhelmed that it could be possible that she would have contracted a disease that she would have to live with for the rest of her life. She looked at me with a tear rolling down her cheek, saying, “I mean, wasn’t the rape, the murder, losing my sons, wasn’t all of that enough punishment?” She told me how she

200 worried how she would ever find the means to take care of herself, let alone find and care for her sons, if she had to spend all of her earnings (if she eventually had any again) on medicine? The next morning, Jeannette was on a plane for the first time in her life. When she landed in Yaoundé, Cameroon, a UNHCR vehicle was waiting for her, and they took her to a Catholic mission where she was housed temporarily. She did not know anyone else in Yaoundé, but was quickly introduced to the head of the Rwandan refugee community. Given the severity of her case, the UNHCR gave her refugee status, despite the fact that they had been long reluctant to grant refugee status to the majority of

Rwandans who arrived in Cameroon. She had a case that was relatively straightforward where she had clear links to the violence she fled and the current government. In this way, she was able to demonstrate the clear and present danger to her life which they deemed qualified her to hold official refugee status.

As she was eating breakfast the third day in country, one of the Catholic nuns introduced herself in Kinyarwanda. She was a Rwandan who had been in Cameroon for many years, and asked Jeannette how she was doing. Jeannette was not sure why, but she was all of the sudden overwhelmed. She was in a new country, she had no idea where her sons were and if they were alive or dead, her husband was gone, and she had become a refugee at a time when everyone was looking at Rwanda as a model. For the African continent, Rwanda was lauded as an example of how a country can prosper after atrocity.

The problem was, this prosperity, she supposed, could not be shared by everyone.

Prosperity always seems to happen on someone else’s back.

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She explained to me that she asked the nun if she could show her a Jehovah’s

Witness church, noting that she had converted to that faith with her family after the

genocide when they lost trust in the Catholic Church, and was hoping that she could

make a community with other believers in Yaoundé. Sensing her loneliness and her need

to find a community the sister agreed, and took Jeannette to a Jehovah’s Witness church

nearby, introducing Jeannette to several church members who were outside planting

flowers.

Back in Rwanda, Jeannette reminisced to me, she had a beautiful garden. She pointed to a picture on the wall of her standing with her late husband in a garden. She told me how this picture was one of her few souvenirs of her husband. Pointing to the flowers around them, she looked at it with what seemed to be nostalgia, telling me that was the backyard of their former house in Rwanda. She pointed to the concrete driveway in front of her small room, and quietly told me that things can change so quickly, “from a large house with a garden, to a small room hidden in the back of someone else’s house.”

Planting and tending to flowers was something that provided her enormous comfort over the years and the atrocities she had witnessed. She asked if she could help, and as she planted the flowers, began to speak with the Cameroonian man and woman church goers.

She quickly explained to them that she was new to the country, a refugee, and that she was alone and hoping to find her sons. She further expounded that in the interim, she was looking for a community and a place to stay. The Cameroonian woman looked up with tears in her eyes and hugged Jeannette, asking if she would like to come to her house for

a few days and rest, and then she could introduce her to her sister who had a few studio

202 apartments that perhaps she could stay at. This is how Jeannette found her current apartment that we were sitting in together.

Jeannette pulled out a picture of her and another woman, explaining that was her

Cameroonian friend, the sister of her current landlady. She described how that initial stay turned into a long-term friendship. The Cameroonian woman was also a widow, although she had lost her husband under vastly different circumstances and now was living with a new boyfriend. She and Jeannette became close friends, and her sister offered Jeannette a permanent room in the back of her house, reassuring her that as soon as Jeannette could find work, she could pay her what she could at the end of each month. Jeannette’s friend and her family provided enormous comfort to each other through their friendship.

Jeannette had become so close with her new friend, that she asked her to go with her to the hospital after her first 3 months in Cameroon to get tested for HIV again after the first inconclusive result. Her friend was holding her hand when the doctor looked at Jeannette and revealed that she was HIV positive, but there was something she could do to live a normal and healthy life.

Jeannette looked at me and lowered her voice, and then went behind the curtain separating the living area where we were sitting from a space with a mattress. She handed me her bottles of antiretroviral medicine and her carnet de santé which outlined all of her different doctors’ visits and tests. She told me this was only part of the ongoing care she needed now that she had an “incurable disease.”

Jeannette recalled that when she initially learned about her HIV status from her doctor, she shook her head and asked him to please advise her on what she needed to do.

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He provided her a prescription, and she immediately went to the UNHCR’s office to reveal her health status and see how they could support her. For the next 9 years, the

UNHCR regularly covered all of her healthcare needs associated with her HIV. However, she explained to me that more recently, budgets had been cut and they were reducing what they would be able to cover. She received a letter from the UNHCR to come to their office so that her health situation and associated benefits could be reassessed.

Jeannette arrived at the UNHCR’s office worried and unsure about what she would do to ensure compliance to her medical regime if the UNHCR cut any of their support to her. She admitted to me that she was embarrassed when she began crying, but the Dutch social worker who had taken her case that day came over and put her arm around Jeannette, letting her cry on her shoulder. She reassured Jeannette that at least she had her refugee status, and they would continue take care of the portion of her medical costs that were not covered by the Cameroonian Government who provided free antiretroviral medicines for all persons infected with HIV across the country. She said that the concern for many Rwandan refugees was in particular for those who were going to lose their refugee status under the Cessation Clause. Jeannette was not affected by this given the clear links between the violence she lived through and the current regime, but many of her other community members would no longer be eligible for UNHCR support once they lost their refugee status. The social worker then cleared her throat, and told

Jeannette that she had some news from her about her son. Jeannette looked up. But that is the last thing she remembered. Jeannette recalled to me how the entire room went black.

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Jeannette woke up to her friend and the social worker holding a glass of water and

fanning her. Jeannette blurted out that she could not take any bad news and she felt that

her blood pressure was already sufficiently high after her initial worries related to losing

her healthcare support. Jeannette asked that please, perhaps the news about her son

should be saved for another day. At that moment, Jeannette remembered the way in

which the social worker looked softly at her, took her hand, and told her that Pierre and

Bernard were alive. They had found them. They had fled in a different direction and ended up in Kenya where they had been taken in by a Rwandan priest who supported their education. Over the 10 years that Pierre and Bernard had been living in Kenya,

separated from their mother, they learned English and finished high school. The social worker informed Jeannette that they had been in touch with Pierre and Bernard, told them

about their mother being in Yaoundé, and that Pierre and Bernard had decided to come immediately. All they wanted was to be together. They were on their way to be with her.

They would be reunited once again.

************************************************************************

Jeannette gasped as she shook her head, looked over at me, and asked if I needed a break from the heart wrenching story she was telling me. She explained that finding her sons again gave her great joy, but now that they were going to arrive and she was worried. While she never wanted to be separated again, she was not sure if she was getting in the way of their lives. She told me about how her sons revealed to her that they did not speak any French, and she was not sure how they would be able to find work in

Yaoundé without any French ability. Yet, she was also hopeful. Jeannette said, “I was

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sure that my luck had taken a permanent turn for the worst on that dreaded day that I try

my best to forget. In one day, I lost my husband, my home, my livelihood, my health, and

my sons.” While Jeannette told me that she could not imagine that she would ever be able to recuperate all of those pieces again, perhaps all of her praying was paying off, and this would be an opportunity to start over and find some joy in her life again. In this way,

Jeannette made a clear link between faith and hope that came through over the course of my research. Across households, faith was both a way to endure waiting, and articulate visions for a better future.

I sat stunned after Jeannette finished illustrating her story. I was not quite expecting all of this, and was surprised at what she asked me next. Jeannette asked me if I wanted to go to the airport with her. Having worked with refugees in a resettlement context, I had seen many family reunifications, but I had a feeling this one would be really emotional. I asked her if she was sure. After she reassured me that she was, and that in fact she would prefer to go with me so she was not waiting alone, I decided to go with her. When we arrived at the airport two weeks after our initial meeting and heavy conversation, the air outside the airport that evening was hot and sticky. The clouds piled up overhead, as if announcing a storm later that evening. Jeannette hoped that weather would not delay the arrival of her sons. Jeannette explained to me that she still could not believe it:

After having fled in different directions, and the different paths that life had laid

before us, something in this universe had been kind enough to bring our paths

together again. We became refugees together, existentially, in different places, at

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the same time because of the same circumstances, so we were meant to be

together again.

Jeannette mulled over everything with me. She was trying to figure out how she would talk with her sons about what happened to her that evening. She worried that they would be mad at her, or somehow blame their father. Furthermore, she had to disclose to

her sons that she was now chronically ill, and that here in Cameroon, because of the

Cessation Clause, while her refugee status had been guaranteed, she could not assure the

same for them. She looked at me and said that she wondered if they would regret coming, and finding that their mother would become a burden to their lives. By this time, I had already picked up on the theme where mothers worried about becoming a burden on their

kin as an important gendered household dynamic related to future aspirations. Mothers

would articulate how they wanted the best for their children. It became clear that what

was best for their children was often times divergent in terms of what was perhaps best

for them. One example that resembled what I witnessed across action and discourse in the

majority of my households was when Francoise pulled out her blood pressure medicine

and carnets de santé. She lamented to me, pointing to her prescriptions and the scribbles

of her doctor in her carnet that she knew she was hypertensive, but she was unable to maintain strict compliance to her dosage or appointments at times because she did not want to “waste resources” from her household on these things if it meant diminishing the resources needed to achieve the aspirations of her two sons. Jeannette’s situation mirrored Francoise’s. Despite the UNHCR covering her healthcare, they did not cover taxis. She was keenly aware of the fact that neglecting her own health appointments was

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to her own peril. And when I first met her she had been so careful and strict in her

compliance to her doctor’s orders as she told me she had always “wanted to stay alive to

see my sons again.” But now that she was about to see them again, her aspirations and priorities had shifted towards the personal and professional prospects for her sons in

Cameroon.

As we sat there waiting for the plane to arrive, she talked to me about how she

often tried to imagine what life must have been like for them. She then pondered aloud

about how maybe they would be able to make something of themselves here. But she also

reiterated that she was still concerned if them coming here was a mistake. Perhaps people

would have taken more pity on them as unaccompanied children? I did not want to

correct her in noting that they were no longer 11 and 14, but now 21 and 24, and would

not be considered by humanitarian agencies as children anymore. She continued on in her

thoughts, telling me about how she heard that often times refugees that were without their

parents had a better chance of resettlement in the United States or elsewhere. She

wondered if they had stayed in Kenya maybe they could have at least found a job there or

a wife and had a family. Jeannette was not sure if Cameroon would offer all of the same

opportunities.

Just then, we heard the sky rumble as the Kenyan Airways flight arrived and

landed at the airport. The air was thick with anticipation. I looked around at all of the

other people gathered around waiting for people. Perhaps they were waiting for people

they just saw a few days ago, or people they talked to on the phone regularly? I imagined

there would not be many that were waiting for children they did not even know were still

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alive until a few days ago, whose voice they had not heard in years, and who they had no

idea what they looked like now. Jeannette confessed to me that she worried she would not even recognize them.

As the passengers started to file out of the airport, she peered over the security barriers that had been set up in recent years because of fears of terrorism, and a police officer barked at her to stand back. Then, she saw them. She exclaimed that there they

were, unmistakingly Pierre and Bernard. Pierre, she later described to me, was the

spitting image of his father, tall and thin with caramel brown skin and grayish blue eyes.

Bernard, she suggested, looked like Jeannette’s father, a bit shorter with darker skin and

deep brown eyes. She rushed past the police officer who had barked at her minutes

earlier, and ran to her sons, throwing her arms around them as they did the same and they fell to their knees, crying. I looked over and the police officer was staring at Jeannette,

Pierre, and Bernard, but this time her expression had softened, and she did not say a word, but offered a slight nod, as she saw the mother and sons walking together, holding each other up. They still had not muttered a word to each other, just shared tears.

On the way back from the airport, Jeannette sat in the back of the car with her sons while I sat in front. Jeannette talked with Pierre and Bernard about how life in

Yaoundé would not be simple. She learned that they had never been able to register as an official refugee in Kenya, and therefore, would have to start a dossier from scratch in

Yaoundé. On top of that, the UNHCR was cracking down on its ability to grant refugee status to Rwandans, and they had not been directly subjected to the violence experienced

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that day, so if they did not tell their story the right way, they may have their status rejected.

Pierre and Bernard shook their heads and told their mother they did not care or

want to talk about his papers at that moment. With tears rolling down the boys’ cheeks as

Yaoundé came into view. Pierre asked her, “Don’t you realize, I just spent years of my life wondering if I was alone in the world or not, if my mom had made it, if I could not have stayed and if that would have saved your life. I don’t care about refugee papers, this is all that matters.” He clutched her hand, and they hugged each other.

************************************************************************

“Your status has been rejected.” This is what Pierre confided in me what he learned when he went to UNHCR that morning. I was confused. We were walking down the busy street together where he and his older brother Bernard sold water in small bags to cars stuck in traffic. Pierre stopped every few minutes to exchange a bottle for the money of a passenger. Pierre continued that Bernard had apparently “explained his case better” as his status had been accepted. But Pierre, who had fled the same events, the same day, under the same circumstances, did not receive a positive refugee status.

Even though Pierre had told his mom that papers did not matter, he knew that was not true. He would have a near impossible time finding a job in the already difficult local economy if he did not have papers. It would be all that much easier for employers to take advantage of him, hiring him with promises of pay, and never delivering on it if they wanted because they could not sign any official contract and no laws in the country protected him. As he heard the UNHCR staff member describe to him what his

210 alternatives were, something about returning to Rwanda or buying a local residency permit or requesting citizenship, he admitted to me that he lost focus and his mind began to wander. He panicked and begged the UNHCR to reconsider, underlining to them how the same people that pursued his father could be after him. They looked identical, anyhow, so it would not be hard to identify him. He tried to explain all of this to the

UNHCR staff member, and asked how he could petition his case. The staff member shook his head, and then returned with some papers that would allow Pierre to fight for his refugee status. He was sure that he had not told his story well, but that if he told it the right way, now that his French had gotten a bit better, surely they would understand that he had every right to be a refugee. The circumstances under which he came were similar to his mother’s, nearly identical to his older brother’s, and certainly the fear for his life was the same.

I walked with Pierre back to his house, and when he returned, he broke the news to Jeannette. She looked defeated, asking him again if it was the right decision for him to come here. She looked at me, asking:

Maybe he would have had a better future in Kenya? Here, we are living day-to-

day, only able to barely sustain ourselves from the diminishing support that I

receive as a refugee since Bernard, even though he is registered, is not eligible for

any social services.

Jeannette, because of her health, which was deteriorating as she had recently also developed worse hypertension, was unable to continue the work that she had done in the past like cleaning and ironing clothes. She expressed that she was interested in starting

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her own small business that required less physical exertion, but when she asked the

UNHCR for some capital support to allow her to start her own business, they refused,

stating that they did not offer that kind of assistance. The UNHCR staff member justified

to Jeannette that all of their assistance was meant to be temporary, until the emergency

ended. But Jeannette looked at me and asked, “really when is my situation going to end?”

Echoing Antoinette’s testimony to me, she shook her head resentfully, complaining that

the UNHCR was only interested in having them meet up in various groups, like “widows

group” or “chronic illness groups” so that they could fill out their reports, receive their

money, and tell their donors they were doing something. These short-term, piecemeal

initiatives did little to actually address the real needs of refugees living in protracted situations like the Rwandan urban refugees, and arguably the majority of the world’s displaced persons. Jeannette looked at me straight in the eyes and said that until they could support her and fix the legal status of her son, she was on strike, “I refuse to spend my 800 FCFA ($1.50) for taxi fare so that their donors can be satisfied when they (the

UNHCR) get in the way of us being able to succeed here.”

She admitted to me that she did not see her situation really ever changing during her lifetime, as she could not return to Rwanda, and the UNHCR would only give her the bare minimum needed to survive until then. But she was not going to give up. She looked over at me and said, “Day to day life is difficult, but the future is always in my thoughts.”

Given the tensions from earlier that evening when Pierre had explained that his refugee status was rejected, I thought it would be wise to leave and let the family digest and strategize their next steps without the eyes of their resident anthropologist. I returned

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the next day to see how they were doing. They were strategizing towards how to

continue, despite everything. The night before when I left them they seemed entirely

dejected and unable to think of any possible strategies to continue towards their

aspirations. They appeared to have temporarily lost hope. But, it seemed to me from their

energy and quick talking around the ideas they were bursting with that they had re-found

hope that they would be able to fix what they categorized as a “huge misunderstanding” related to Pierre’s refugee paper issues.

When I asked her what she wanted most, Jeannette said that she wanted the boys to continue their education and do some vocational training, but that they did not have the means at the moment to do it with the precarity of Pierre’s legal situation and her deteriorating health. She seemed increasingly agitated, saying, “I think about the future, yes. But sometimes when I think about the future, it raises my blood pressure.” It was clear, however, that Jeannette’s idea of the future was unilaterally focused on her son’s achieving success, and not necessarily on her own health or any specific projects for herself. Her sons also were focused on better futures for them, including better jobs, and starting families. Given their long separation from their mother, they always reiterated how happy they were to be reunited, but they never explicitly spoke about concerns related to her health or livelihoods. It seemed to be implicit that once they succeeded, they would then be able to “take care” of their mother, or fulfill their expected masculine gender roles.

The young men both lit up when we started talking about vocational training, and they excitedly told me how they were interested in doing technical engineering type

213 work. I could see the hope in their eyes as they thought about the different lives they could lead with that opportunity, but their mother did not seem hopeful. When I asked about the one scholarship program funded by the German government called DAFI,

Jeannette confided to me that she did not think Pierre and Bernard would be eligible candidates. She thought they were too long out of high school, and the program was on a reimbursement basis, and she was not sure she would ever have the money to reimburse the program.

I changed the subject by looking at Pierre and asking him what his daily life was like now. Pierre detailed that his routine did not vary much from day to day. Pierre would start by going to the central market and finding some clothes that had been shipped in from somewhere in Europe or the United States. He would pick through some of the nicer ones, and buy them at a cheap price. He would then walk up and down the streets, particularly in the parts of town that experienced the heaviest traffic, where passengers and drivers could not help but look at what he was selling, and he would hold up the clothes to them. He would start with the highest possible prices, and sell them at the price he could, making sure not to dip below the price that he paid for the items. In the afternoon, he continued to sell water in small plastic bags to drivers of cars as the traffic got heavy in his neighborhood. While he of course would rather be in college, or meeting girls, or playing soccer, he needed to do this, and he figured the hard work would lead him somewhere. Eventually. His brother Bernard recounted that he engaged in similar activities to make money, but since he had a legal refugee status, he also applied for employment where he could at some of the stores and other establishments in their

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neighborhood, including the bus agencies and homes that may be looking for security

guards.

After selling clothes in the sun for several hours, Pierre and Bernard specified to me that they would go home to make sure their mother was ok, and have lunch with her.

They had spent so many years without their mother. Pierre and Bernard expressed to me that their small family, the two boys and their mother, were all that they really had in the world. For this reason, they did not want to miss a moment or a meal with her when they could avoid it. After lunch, Pierre would continue selling his water, but always somewhere close to the UNHCR office so that he could stop by at the end of the day and inquire into the status of his petition to his file’s status. When he arrived at the UNHCR office, he would often be surprised at the increasingly long lines out front. Crises in the region were pushing people into Cameroon from Nigeria and the Central African

Republic, and he explained to me that often times the new refugees would look at him with envy. He had a job, even though it was an informal job that paid very little, but it seemed like so much more to them. He understood that there were some cross-cutting attributes to the refugee experience, including loss, sadness, fear, longing, and the burning desire to keep hoping for a better future, no matter how short-sighted the aid and support provided seemed to be. So he would simply nod, or smile when he could, at the on looking refugees.

Pierre expressed to me that he felt strongly that if he was given the privilege to

“belong somewhere,” in this case, Cameroon, he would be able to figure out a way to make enough money to return to school. He would be able to make something of himself,

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meet a girl, get married, and give his mother grandchildren. They would all live together,

and his mother would find renewed meaning to her life as well through her sons’

successes. Both boys expressed concern over their mother, but it appeared that they also

shared that her “meaning in life” ultimately hinged on the success of her sons. They

would name their children after Pierre’s long-lost father, and the kids would grow up

knowing that they belong somewhere. Bernard had similar ambitions, and while he did

have refugee status, he seemed to be waiting in solidarity for Pierre to also get his before

they moved forward on their different projects. While waiting in solidarity was something I observed at the broader social network level, within the household it also seemed to be linked with a greater tension. In one respect, those who had legal status would try and work to bring resources into the household. However, on the other hand, they also did not want to create tension within the household. Neither Pierre nor Bernard

wanted handouts, they did not want aid. They detailed to me that they wanted the dignity

to be able to walk the streets without getting shaken down for being undocumented, or for

being a refugee. They wanted to be able to be part of and actively contribute to a society,

rather than feeling pushed to the side. In their own way, they were also concerned about

becoming burdens. Their concerns however were linked with fulfilling their expected

masculine gender roles, and not becoming dependent on social service agencies or a

burden on their Cameroonian host community. They articulated that they could avoid this

by ensuring they both had legal status, which they argued would open up opportunities

for them to work, study, and become contributing members of the larger communities

(faith, sports, refugee) they were part of. They were determined this would happen at

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some point. Pierre just first needed to learn to tell his story right so that the two young

men could continue to move forward together.

Despite their hopes and aspirations, Jeannette was concerned. It almost seemed as

if their shared hopes and aspirations for her sons became a source of pain for her. She

worried, “I have gotten in the ways of my kids’ lives to take care of me. Or if I haven’t

gotten in the way, I have deprived them from certain things.” After they left the room,

Jeannette looked at me sadly, shaking her head, and nearly in tears, she suggested: “… for my boys, I worry, it isn’t normal for African men to not be able to work, and now they just wander around every day, they cry that they have become burdens to their mother… sometimes I just wonder when they are going to go crazy, with nothing to do.”

This was the only time over the course of my research I heard the burden analysis

flipped by a research participant from that of mothers becoming a burden to sons

becoming a burden. However, Jeanette’s concern here seemed to be a reflection of her

own concerns on being a burden that she was worried her sons may be feeling about her,

as they never articulated that they were worried about becoming burdens on their mother.

Her sentiment corroborates the concept of “priority household members” that I observed

across my sample though, in that she was more concerned about her sons being able to

fulfill their gendered expectations of men than anything else. In this way, the focus of her

concern was really still on her sons, and not on her, except that she was reiterating the

feeling that she was concerned that she was holding them back in some way.

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7.1 Further sub-themes and data from additional households

This vignette illustrates the second broad theme that emerged related to socio- cultural expectations of sacrifice that are linked with women’s capacity to aspire.

Specifically, Jeannette’s strategies demonstrate the ways in which she explicitly avoided becoming a burden on her children through cuts to her chronic health and other personal expenses once they were reunited. Under this theme, the sub-themes of psychological distress related to not being able to fulfill socio-cultural expectations (for both men and women), the significant barriers that legal precarity placed on access to capital and key structures including the UNHCR, the links between different forms of capital and engagement in the informal sector (a prominent option in the field of their aspirational map), the burden of chronic health issues, and the continual striving for independence and dignity emerged.

The themes of women’s aspirations focusing on their children came up across the households I worked with. For example, in one interview I had with the mother

(Bernadette) and daughter (Marcelle) from household 9, one of the few households in my family that included the mother, father, and all of the children (although two were not physically living in the same house), when I asked Bernadette what her aspirations were, she told me, “For me, I am old, and my life is basically finished, so I am just focusing on my children’s success.” When she said this, Marcelle, taken aback, asked, “But mom, when you look around at other families, the parents still have their own aspirations for the future, maybe building a house in their village, or something like that. Surely there must be something!” This interaction allowed me to observe the gendered and generational

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differences in what was prioritized, and the unspoken ways in which practices towards

aspirations were shaped in a way that corresponded with socio-cultural gendered expectations of mothers and their primary responsibility in life being to their children (for more, see Section 2.3 on Rwandan cultural context). As Marcelle had primarily grown-up

in Cameroon, she was perhaps influenced by other cultural factors of her Cameroonian

neighbors, such as the “other families” she referred to.

Chronic health conditions imposed challenges on households, and because of the

socio-cultural expectations of women to ensure the health, well-being, and aspirations of their children, there was an expectation from both mothers and children that spending limited household capital on mothers’ chronic health conditions was a burden. For example, Jean Bosco, a 28-year-old who was recently married with one child spoke of his ailing grandmother and the investments in her health “holding me back” in stating:

Grandmother’s illness worries me a lot. It is not a small illness. When she gets

sick, I have to take care of her. When we go to the Central Hospital, we refugees

are mistreated and I swear that someone could die there just because of that. We

are not taken care of there, and then we are forced to go elsewhere, and it is me

that has to pay out of my pocket. But where does that money come from, my

already meager salary that I can barely support my own small family with. All of

this, it really holds me back sometimes. For now, between the lack of support

from the UNHCR who used to at least help take care of my grandmother, my

small salary, and my enormous charge... I guess my hope would be that the

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UNHCR would take care of my grandmother so that I could focus on growing my

business and income. You know, for my little family.

In contrast to Jean Bosco, his ailing grandmother, when I asked her what her hopes for

the future were explained, “I just want to die sometimes, so that I am no longer holding

my grandson and his future back.”

While most household members seemed to agree on whose well-being and futures were prioritized, the actions to achieve these often benefitted children in the household.

There also seemed to be convergence in expectations of who would make the greatest sacrifices. Through my observations and discussions, I observed that women would be the first to cut an important health or social expense in order to avoid using household resources that they perceived could be better used towards fulfilling these aspirations.

This threat of becoming a burden heavily influenced the aspirations of mothers.

For all of my women research participants, when I asked about aspirations they made it

clear that they hinged on avoiding becoming a burden on their children. Some, like

Ernestine (see Chapter 6: Case Study 1) and Ivoire (see Chapter 8: Case Study 3)

explicitly suggested that even death was preferable to holding their children back. One

day when I arrived at Ivoire’s house (see Case Study 3, Chapter 8), she seemed

particularly frustrated at the ways in which she was becoming a burden to her children.

She was kneeling in front of a picture of Jesus quietly praying while her grandson was

playing outside. I played with him for a little bit, until she finished and she sat down next

to me in the courtyard of their small house and confided:

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So, I had wanted to start a small business that a guy from our community

proposed to me, but he asked me to put some money forward, and thinking that he

was honest, I gave him 30,000 FCFA ($60), and then he disappeared. I was so

angry, I mean, I do everything to make sure that I don’t penalize my children, and

now I don’t know how we are going to eat this month. And I really hope no one

else gets sick! Sometimes I feel like I am going to lose my mind. The stress of it

all even makes my head itch, that is why I shaved my head. And I haven’t been

able to sleep for days. I thought I was going to go crazy, and I don’t know how it

will all work out in the end, but even if I need to sell my body to make sure my

kids don’t suffer. In the end, I put my faith in God, prayer helps me live and deal

with what I have to do. It is just prayer that keeps us alive.

Antoinette also explained to me that as she became older and her sons now had established their own households, she now had to shift between the households of her sons and vary her economic activities to avoid becoming a burden to them. She told me how before her sons had paid for a separate apartment for her, but as their households grew, she was concerned that this was an unnecessary burden. For example, one day when I arrived at Antoinette’s door, she greeted me with her usual, “I am not dead yet, I don’t know why.” Antoinette told me she used to drink one beer a day, either at a small bar in the neighborhood, or hidden in her room as her son that she was currently living with was Muslim. She had to stop though, as money had become tight and her health didn’t permit her to sell beignets and fruit juice anymore. She had recently moved from the small studio she had been living in alone to stay with her son in order to save money,

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and to help her younger son whose girlfriend was pregnant and they needed somewhere

to stay. Shaking her head, she told me, “I never imagined myself having to live like this,

moving from one son’s house to another, feeling increasingly like a burden.”

At other times, they would say that while they did not want to become dependent

on aid. However, I think they were often primarily focused on their children not having to

be dependent on aid, as the age and chronic health conditions of many mothers limited

their ability to engage in the informal sector. Mothers would regularly suggest that the

UNHCR just support them either to start a small business that was manageable given

their health conditions, or continue to support their health so their children did not have to

do so. This was especially the case if it meant being able to free household resources for

their other household members.

As demonstrated above, the sub-theme of structural and physical violence against women (see Section 5.3.1 Sub-theme 1) emerged as an important condition that

underlined why the burden of chronic health conditions, particularly HIV and

hypertension, was so prevalent across the women in my sample. Similar to Jeannette,

other women including Antoinette from household 3 and Valerie from household 8, two

other women who had acquired HIV via rape during the conflict in Rwanda, confided in

me that they often skipped the medicine and clinical follow-up required of them if it

meant that their growing children would have more resources to pursue their own education and professional objectives. Ivoire from household 5, the subject of Case Study

3 (Chapter 8), despite being a pharmacist technician and knowing the risks of reducing the medicine she needed for her hypertension, readily skipped days or broke pills in half

222 as a way to save for the education and medical follow-up for her daughters or grandson.

Ivoire illustrated this in describing to me the adjustments she made in her life when she had children:

When I first moved to Cameroon, I didn’t have children yet. And my husband was

still here, and we had the means for me to think about my future. I was ambitious

and wanted to open my own pharmacy. I was able to study and dream about what

I would become. With Armand’s death, and one daughter pregnant, the other with

heart failure, how am I supposed to even think about those things anymore?

Often, despite having their own chronic health conditions, mothers barely talked about their own health concerns with me when talking about their aspirations or challenges they faced. This included Francoise from household 6 who I learned through her sons was living with diabetes and hypertension, but who only focused on what she was doing to ensure her two sons’ health and future livelihoods were not affected by the slum conditions they were living in. Francoise pointed out:

You know, because of my living situations here, I recently fell gravely ill. But,

you know, I am a mother, I can’t get ill. But anyhow, I know it is because of the

poor living conditions that we are living in. I just couldn’t do anything about it

because I needed to find money to continue to send my son to school. My other

son is trying to get by after finishing school in a store. He even traveled to Bangui

to work for a bit, and then came back and needed some assistance to start his own

affairs here. And you know, that is of course my priority.

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Other women, like Valerie from household 8, would rationalize the structural and physical violence they had lived through as something that was part of “God’s plan” and placing them in a better situation for their desired futures. She explained that the fact that she was living alone with her daughter, and that she was HIV positive and her daughter had recently been raped, would “improve our chances for resettlement as single and vulnerable women.” After I completed my fieldwork, I received a Facebook friend request from Valerie, and learned that her and her daughter had indeed been chosen for resettlement in Canada. I was surprised given how unlikely resettlement was for

Rwandan refugees, and later when I was talking with a key informant over WhatsApp, he brought up her resettlement spontaneously, and I acted surprised about it, not wanting to reveal that I already knew. Interestingly, when I asked him if I thought there would be more Rwandans resettled, he told me that no, it was because of the “gendered focus” of the UNHCR that they had been resettled.

Women also faced forms of structural violence that limited not only their access to capital, but the expectations that if others in the household could better access capital, they should make sacrifices to ensure this could happen. For example, when I spoke with

Francoise’s sons, they also never mentioned that the support their mother was providing to them was anything but normal and expected, as they were the men of the family, and they needed to work. That was the priority. And the reality was that they likely, given gendered discrimination related to women’s access to different types of work in the informal sector, were more likely to be offered work and less likely to be harassed or exploited. Constant from household 1 justified to me the idea that men should be

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prioritized over women when he was explaining why he was investing in his own education and not his wife’s in stating, “when the man of the house is highly educated, in our context, here in Africa, everyone does better.” Other examples included Jacques from household 14’s wife, Mercy, who left her profession as a nurse at Jacques’ request so that she could help him in his store, and ensure the success of his professional projects even though she may have had good job prospects as a nurse.

The sub-theme of faith as important social and cultural capital (see Section 5.3.2

Sub-theme 2) also emerged under the theme of becoming a burden, both as a condition

through which many of my research participants justified their sacrifices, and as a source

of continued hope despite their challenging daily lives. I heard on several occasions’

women household members who saw themselves as becoming burdens express that they

just wished they could die. They often linked this with the physical pain accompanied

with the reduction of investment in their healthcare expenses. This worried me, although

no one ever expressly suggested they were considering suicide, which I asked them for

ethical reasons to ensure that our conversation was not a trigger for my research

participants. While I would make sure to follow-up regularly with persons who expressed thoughts of wanting to die to me, I also found that they were also often deeply religious, which may have served as a protective factor from suicide. When I asked research participants in these cases if they were or had ever seriously contemplated suicide, they would quickly answer that they had not, but that expressing the desire to die was just an expression. They would then elaborate as to how this was a sin and they would wait to see what “God had planned” for them.

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Lila from household 12 often broke down crying during our conversations and

time spent together when she started talking about her two autistic children’s futures and

how she had to manage their educational and health issues while becoming increasingly

sick and exhausted as she was unable to follow up on her own. However, her faith was

what kept her going. She explained to me:

Well, at least we are refugees for now, and my God tells me that I just need to be

patient, and better times will come. Even when I go to the UNHCR office to ask

about when we can be resettled, so that my kids can go to a specialized school and

live good lives, they tell me, ‘just be patient, if the time for resettlement arrives,

we will call you.’ You know, you hear this all the time, so if you don’t have faith

in God, you will just go crazy. You know, my foot, did you notice, it is always

swollen, but I don’t dare spend any money to address it. My money is for my

kids, and to save for resettlement, because I know my God is working on that and

it will come.

These faith networks were also often times linked to the important sub-theme of social networks as social capital (see Section 5.3.3 Sub-theme 3) which emerged throughout this research. Indeed, these faith-based social networks were often crucial in helping refugees to integrate within the broader Cameroonian society that they were living in. Social networks played an important role in providing hope and coping with challenges and pain associated with the sacrifices made to achieve their aspirations.

However, while social networks could be a form of social capital (and economic capital depending on their ability), social networks could also be a source of resentment,

226 misinformation, and distrust. On several occasions my research participants told me about how they did not want their broader social networks to be aware of their chronic health problems, particularly HIV. There was a mix of not wanting to become a burden on their broader social network, or not wanting to have to owe persons in their social network something later on if they did choose to support them.

Yet, I also realized that we need to understand emic conceptions of who constitutes a social network, and the different role that persons within social networks may play. For example, one evening during my research I saw one of my research participants, Elisabeth, standing on the side of the street wearing an extravagant evening gown, despite it only being 4 p.m. I had suspected for some time that she engaged in sex work, although she had not yet explicitly told me about it. However, on this occasion I could tell that she had been drinking, and she told me the next day that she often

“dressed-up” in “fancy dresses” so that she could attract higher paying upper middle class clients in the neighborhoods where she worked. She ran over to me and gave me a hug, and immediately launched into an explanation of why she had not paid her rent for 3 months as she asked me if she could borrow money. When I asked her what happened, she elaborated:

Well, my lover who usually pays my rent and helps me cover my healthcare

expenses so I can focus on my son’s education. But, he can’t right now because

his wife is here. His wife even called me and explained that they are having their

own financial challenges so she asked me to refrain from asking him for money

for a little while.

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While I knew about her lover from previous conversations, this interaction led me to

reflect on and expand my frame of reference as to who I considered to be part of my

research participant’s’ social networks. Her lover was an essential part of her social

network and a source of social and economic capital that helped mitigate her need to

sacrifice her health and bolstered here ability to achieve her aspirations of her son

finishing medical school. Both Elisabeth and her lover’s wife understood this reality. One

in which, she expressed to me, led her not to have to rely on or cut from her son or

daughter’s expenses to support herself. She was tapping into this part of her social

network to avoid becoming a burden.

7.2 Discussion

Jeannette, Pierre, and Bernard’s story, joined with the data garnered from additional households above, sheds light on the important role that sacrifice places in strategies towards achieving aspirations in the fields on which their aspirational maps exist. In this context, a strong theme of anxiety over becoming a burden to their children, or a barrier to their children’s’ aspirations, was present across the data I collected over the course of my dissertation. This was a particularly important factor to understand the strategies and capacity to implement those strategies towards aspirations among mothers, but at times older children as well, including Concilie (see Chapter 6: Case Study 1) as she reflected on not wanting to worry her mother about her uncertain existence in France.

My time in Rwandan urban refugee households was spent observing the ways in which mothers would fade into the background through these strategies of sacrifice to fulfill their socio-cultural expectations of ensuring their children’s success. Hinging on broader

228 gendered expectations, mothers, like Bernadette noted above, would suggest that they had already lived their lives, and now they needed to focus on helping their children to succeed.

Yet, referring to my conceptual model (see Figure 1 in Section 3.2), this did not mean that mothers were without agency. These strategies of sacrifices were part of their agency, informed by their access to various forms of capital and the socio-cultural expectations placed on them. In fact, their insistence on telling their life histories as a crucial part of their context was a way to frame their current conditions, aspirations, and choices of strategies to achieve them. This echoed Ortner’s (2006) assertion that agency and practice cannot be understood without linking people to their historical context. This historical context, as suggested in my discussion in Section 6.2, was a key part of the cultural capital that influenced women’s agency. In other words, for Jeannette, after everything else she had been through, the choice to cut back on her healthcare expenses that she had previously followed so carefully was done without hesitation as she was now reunited with her sons, the most important social and cultural capital in her life as they gave her meaning and purpose in line with the central role of women as mothers in the

Rwandan cultural context.

Often in the scholarly literature and in popular discourse refugees are portrayed as dependent, helpless victims (Agier, 2011; Spiegel & UNHCR, 2010; Rasmussen &

Annan, 2009; Walbert, 2014). Their portrayals as victims is exacerbated by research that focuses unilaterally on the suffering, structural violence, and various health and social issues that accompany forced migration (Ager, 2014; Amara et al., 2014; Behera, 2006;

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Carswell et al., 2011; Church World Service, 2013; Coker, 2004; Gomberg-Muñoz, 2010;

Krieger et al., 2003). However, in my experience with urban refugees over the course of

this research and in my previous humanitarian work, it was clear that their aspirations

hinged on a desire for the independence, dignity, and ultimate belonging of their kin.

Refugees explicitly expressed and implicitly demonstrated through their actions that they

did not want to be a burden (or a fardeau) on their families. Yet, in the challenging social and political contexts in which Rwandan urban refugees lived in Cameroon, often struggling alongside their Cameroonian neighbors with the added challenges of xenophobia and legal precarity, many found themselves with increasingly few options to support themselves so their agency and strategies towards their aspirations needed to be adjusted.

In this way, Jeannette, Pierre, and Bernard’s aspirations hinged on the independence and dignity of Pierre and Bernard. Similarly, every one of the mothers I worked with framed their priorities as assuring better futures for their children. Pierre and

Bernard like many young persons I worked with expressed that these aspirations hinged on wanting to belong, get married, have children, and fulfill their socio-cultural roles as

“men.” They subsequently took explicit steps in their strategies towards these aspirations

to avoid getting in the way of these bright futures, or “becoming a burden” to their

children.

Their aspirations focused on belonging were complicated by the Cessation

Clause. When Pierre’s refugee application was rejected, I witnessed a temporary loss of

hope among Jeannette, Pierre, and Bernard who became silent and seemed to have felt

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they had run out of options. Because of this, they were unable to think of other solutions

or strategies to reach their aspiration, but when I saw them over the days following this

rejection, they slowly began to regain their hope as they leveraged their social capital and

got ideas from their faith and social networks on what they could do next. Their initial

strategy had failed, but they were revaluating other strategies that they thought could bear

fruit on their metaphorical aspirational map. Hope returning affected their capacity to

aspire in the sense that they were once again bursting with ideas, although these ideas and

strategies still needed to be implemented in the context of their restricted aspirational

map. It is also important to note the ways in which the particular event of the rejection of

Pierre’s refugee status could affect the household’s access to various forms of capital and

relationship with their broader field in other ways that may affect their capacity to aspire.

This included the sacrifice and strain that came at the household level as they became a

mixed status family, and the challenges that often accompany that are well-documented

in terms of resentment, sacrifice, and fraying relationships between household members

and the wider community that could affect their access to various forms of capital

(Dreby, 2015).

The theme of becoming a burden further helps to illustrate the nature of the field that underlies the aspirational map of these household sub-units. Persons who are marginalized and pushed to the sidelines of the societies that they live in do not abandon their hope and aspirations. Instead, these aspirations take different forms such as ways to resist changing legal status through concerted advocacy as a community, new ways to cover their expenses when they lose or are unable to access the capital that important

231 structures like the UNHCR can provide, and the strategies taken in the form of sacrifices to their healthcare if they are unable to find a way to cover these expenses elsewhere.

Often times as access to various forms of capital becomes increasingly challenging, they make adjustments to their paths to achieving these aspirations.

Adjustments often came in the form of cutting from healthcare expenses, and this often affected women in particular ways because of their burden of chronic health conditions, and the socio-cultural expectations of them. Chronic health conditions were ubiquitous among the Rwandan urban refugee community and it became clear that they could not be ignored in understanding the aspirational map and important structures and capital they needed. There are demonstrable links between forced migration and increased vulnerability to chronic health conditions as the result of trauma, interrupted healthcare, and challenges in access to healthcare. This is particularly true among women who often experience higher levels of violence. While it is unclear exactly why and the research on chronic disease among refugees in developing countries is limited, this does echo other observations across the scholarly literature that because of exposure to sexual and structural violence, gender appears to be a risk-factor for developing chronic conditions (Clinton-Davis & Fassil, 1992; Dookeran et al., 2010; Yun et al., 2012).

Furthermore, in urban areas services may not be subsidized as they are in camps or may be complicated by legal status issues, among other factors, are well documented in the scholarly literature (Ager, 2014; Amara & Aljunid, 2014; Betancourt & Khan, 2008;

Castañeda, 2009, 2010; Prasad et al., 2015; Quesada et al., 2011). Important realities that were part of their aspirational maps included the prior exposure to violence through the

232 witnessing of Jeannette’s husband’s (and the boys’ father’s) death. For Jeannette, her experiences of sexual and physical violence that led to health conditions meant that structures like the UNHCR and health structures she relied on became central in new and important ways, particularly as they could provide her with the psychological and physical healthcare she needed to continue her life in dignity after these events. These factors and the importance of these structures to Jeannette, as demonstrated on my conceptual model, were intricately linked with access to capital. The loss of access to support from one of these structures led Jeannette and her sons, as a household unit, to have to make challenging decisions about what expenses they needed to cut.

The UNHCR as an important structure in their field also supported the aspirations towards belonging for Pierre and Bernard. UNHCR issued papers allowed for the ability to work and study without harassment (or at least the additional obstacle of experiencing labor exploitation without a structure that they could approach to advocate for them). In this way, the UNHCR was linked with the potential economic capital of accessing the informal sector. Jeannette also demonstrated the use of this structure as a source of potential economic capital when she went and asked them for support to start a small business when her health would no longer allow her to participate in the informal sector activities she had been engaged in. However, this also demonstrates that Jeannette was unaware of or unable to access for socio-cultural or political economic reasons other structures in the broader field underlying her aspirational map to support her in accessing the economic capital needed to support this specific aspiration.

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Related to belonging, Jeannette and others reiterated that when the UNHCR rejected the status of some household members and not others, it was because they had simply “not told their stories well.” In this way, access to UNHCR was also linked to the cultural capital of their pasts, discussed in the discussion in Chapter 6 (see Section 6.2).

The idea was that they could pull on their cultural capital of their pasts in order to access the UNHCR.

In addition to the UNHCR, refugee women also leveraged other sources of social, cultural, and economic capital. Their inability to access this capital was often what led them to have to make sacrifices to their compliance to their healthcare. For example,

Jeannette illustrated how the social capital of her church networks helped her to integrate into Yaoundé, find housing, and find a source of psychosocial support in her good

Cameroonian friend who supported her morally through her chronic healthcare. The informal sector, a central part of the field underlying their aspirational map, and at times linked to their aspirations, was also inextricably linked with their access to capital.

Because of the loss of the social capital of her health, Jeannette was no longer able to continue the hard labor that she had previously done, limiting her access to that form of economic capital.

Even chronic health conditions were used as capital in some ways, especially in terms of accessing the UNHCR or resettlement. For example, in Valerie’s case noted above, she was sure that her status as an HIV positive single mother improved her chances for resettlement, and beamed as she informed me of this. I found this shocking at first, but I also found many parallels across my research participants, echoing of Fassin’s

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(2009) idea of biolegitimacy where having certain health conditions actually served at

times to legitimize the suffering that refugees or asylum seekers claimed with something

akin to physical evidence or capital that they needed to access this key structure.

Importantly another form of important cultural capital was being able to fulfill

socio-cultural gendered expectations. For women, the sacrifice to be non-compliant to their chronic health regimes was one way to allow them to continue to have the cultural capital of being regarded by themselves and others as “good mothers.” These gendered expectations also affected men, particularly in the expectation that African men needing

to “provide for themselves and their family,” as Jeannette described to me. These

expectations of masculinities are echoed across the literature on men’s migration and

gender, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa (Abdul-Korah, 2011; Boehm, 2008; Jaji, 2009;

Kleist, 2016b; Williams, 2011). Relevant to Pierre and Bernard’s cultural capital and the

actions they took towards increasing their cultural capital, they wanted to fulfill their

roles of taking care of their mother, especially as she didn’t have a husband. This of

course contrasted with the gendered expectation of sacrifice that Jeannette felt, but

exploring their aspirations, strategies, and forms of capital through my conceptual model

helped to underline this friction.

At the time of writing this dissertation, Pierre was still fighting for his refugee

status. This vignette illustrated the cascade effect of his inability to access the UNHCR as

a central structure in his life, and convince them that he was worthy of being a refugee

like his mother and brother who fled the same circumstances on the same day. Similarly,

Jeannette was not able to succeed in leveraging her connection with the UNHCR to

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bolster her economic capital in the form of a grant or loan to start a small informal

business as she was no longer to walk long distances and perform the hard manual labor

of cleaning homes, washing, and ironing clothes that she had done in the past given her

degrading health. These circumstances and their relationships and access to the central

structure of the UNHCR, and lack of knowledge or access to other structures that could

support them, affected their capacity to aspire in different ways. The inter-connected nature of the strategies towards the shared aspirations of Pierre and Bernard “succeeding” in their new homes led to Jeannette deciding that she would have to cut back on her healthcare. She saw this as a sacrifice she needed to make that would allow her to bolster her cultural capital by fulfilling her socio-cultural expectations of a Rwandan mother.

Women were supposed to fade into the background in some ways, especially in terms of investments in themselves, but in doing so she was playing a foundational role in the household of freeing up household resources towards supporting her sons’ aspirations of being able to “belong,” and the cascade of social, cultural, and economic capital that would result from their belonging and ability to fill their socio-cultural expectations of

Rwandan men. Using the conceptual model of a capacity to aspire, through this vignette the household-level effects of Pierre’s loss of refugee status and the ways in which this affected Jeannette, Pierre, and Bernard’s access to different forms of capital, and the barriers and challenges to accessing key structures on their aspirational map is revealed.

From an applied perspective, understanding their challenges in this way can allow social service agencies to pinpoint areas where they can more effectively support access to structures and capital, even those which the household is unaware of, to allow Jeannette,

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Bernard, and Pierre to continue to aspire without having to make sacrifices such as cutting back on healthcare that could have important long-term physical and psychological repercussions on them.

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Chapter 8: Case Study 3: “Just a matter of time”: hope, waiting, uncertainty

Using the conceptual model of the capacity to aspire (Figure 1), over the course of my research, I found that waiting and uncertainty were key aspects of the aspirational maps of my research participants. With few successful precedents and strained access to capital, the paths towards their aspirations often were devised creatively. Because of this, they would engage in strategies not knowing fully how they would end up. I found that hope, in this way, served as an important form of cultural capital that allowed research participants to cope with challenges and uncertainty, and the waiting inherent in seeing if a strategy they tried would work.

Through my data, it became clear that hope and key forms of social capital, notably faith and social networks, were interlinked and central to the ability to cope with uncertainty and waiting that allowed refugee women to engage strategies on their aspirational map towards their aspirations. It was also this hope that inspired aspirations or alternative futures that represented dramatic shifts from the challenges of the present.

Social and faith networks supported the decisions and actions that needed to be taken to achieve the aspirations that stemmed from these hopeful, alternative visions of the future

(see Chapter 6: Case Study 1).

Mothers among my research participants, when they felt they had or would

“become burdens” (see Chapter 7), would often voice that they “would rather be dead” or

“just wanted to die.” However, I found over the course of my research that rather than

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continue to dwell on these thoughts, my research participants would instead, catalyzed by

their faith, societal roles as mothers, social networks, and desires to not become burdens

on their children, would re-find their hope and quickly change their perspective to how

they would achieve their aspirations. These future orientations, as unlikely as they seemed at times, were coping strategies that allowed for the challenges of the present to be taken as a temporary hurdle before better things to come. In this way, this hope as a

form of cultural capital was instrumental in coping with uncertainty. I will illustrate this

theme below through the story of Ivoire and her family.

When I first met Ivoire, her story was so jarring that it led me to question if my

dissertation should not focus solely on social suffering. Her life was enshrouded with

physical and structural violence combined with grave health issues facing her and her

daughters beyond what I observed in many households. However, while hearing her story

was often challenging, in spending time with her and her daughters over the three years

of my fieldwork, I found that they were constantly recreating and reimaging their

aspirations for the future, and actively adjusting their practices to achieve them. It was

this hope, the aspirations that stemmed from it, combined with their social and cultural

capital including faith and different forms of social support from professional and other

social networks that allowed them to cope with both the challenges in the present and the

uncertainty for the future. I also found that these factors helped Ivoire and her daughters

to cope by allowing them to temporarily “forget” the challenges of the present in focusing

on their futures.

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I chose to focus on Ivoire’s household in this vignette as her and her children illustrate these themes through the stark contrast of their past and present challenges to their imagined futures. Ivoire lost her husband when he was violently murdered in

Yaoundé. After her husband’s death, she continued to receive harassing phone-calls by the men she assumes killed her husband. Exacerbating the challenges in her life after the violent death of her husband, her older daughter was diagnosed with heart failure, and her younger daughter was diagnosed with sinus cancer and had a child out of wedlock that obliged her to partially drop out of school. Her son started working at night clubs and she feared he was getting involved in drugs, gangs, and bad crowds. Yet, whenever I saw her, she would not dwell on those things, but instead talk about how she had hope that things could change at any moment, noting, “God gave us refugee status, and that helped to take care of us, he will give us something else that will pull us out of the hole that we are in.”

Indeed, the strong sub-theme of faith as an important form of social and cultural capital

(see Section 5.3.2 Sub-theme 2) that runs throughout this dissertation was a source of inspiration and solace during waiting for better futures.

**********************************************************************

“People often forget that in the midst of terrible events, everyday life continues,”

Ivoire explained to me as we walked up the steep hill to her small home. It took us an hour to reach her home from our meeting place downtown. After meeting her in front of the pharmacy where she worked, we took three different taxis to arrive at her neighborhood, situated on the northwest outskirts of the city. Ivoire clarified to me that she preferred to live on the outskirts of the city. She told me that despite the distance

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from work, she was hiding with her two daughters and son after her husband’s murder

and the subsequent menacing phone-calls she continued to receive. “It is better to live far

away, we never know…” she trailed off.

Over my time working with Ivoire and her family, I was struck by the calm way

she always told me about the challenges she was facing. As a mother, sometimes I

wondered what I would do if some of the things she was dealing with crept into my life.

What is clear through her narratives as well as those of all of my research participants

over the course of this research is that persons living in the midst of social suffering can do little else but continue their lives. In this context, and given the reality that approximately half of the households that I engaged in spoke of previous interactions with a UNHCR-sponsored mental health counselor who provided them support for what they self-reported as major depression and post-traumatic stress disorder, I was surprised

there were no reported suicides or attempts among urban refugees from Rwanda in

Cameroon over their long tenure in country. Despite these challenges, my evidence, as I will lay it out in this vignette, lead me to hypothesize that faith and social networks may be in some ways protective from taking more drastic measures such as suicide among my research participants.

This continuation of life was possible in the households that I worked with when they were continuing to work towards something meaningful in their lives. Over the

course of my three years spending time with Ivoire and her daughter, I was able to put the

pieces of their story together, and find themes of hope and the fact that it was always

“just a matter of time” before things got better. Ivoire regularly told me, like many other

241 women I worked with, that it was their patience and ability to wait that kept them from having a “crise” (a nervous breakdown).

By now, I had become accustomed to first spending time learning about the historical circumstances that led my research participants to their current situations. With

Ivoire, the desire to first clarify her past, therefore, was no surprise, and when we arrived at her small house on top of a hill, we sat on plastic chairs in the living room where she handed me a photo-album with her wedding photos. She looked over at me and suggested that she would start by telling me about how she met and married her husband, telling me, “my life as a woman and a mother really starts there, anyhow.” Ivoire’s wedding fell as tensions across Rwanda were mounting. Her husband-to-be, Armand, insisted that they should not postpone just to wait for peace. “Our love was unbreakable and beautiful. It would conquer all of the fear, our nightmares, the rumors about being forced to join, or fall victim to, death squads. Or at least, that is what, I thought would happen,” she explained to me.

Ivoire further told me that at first, Ivoire’s parents were hesitant about her engagement to Armand. They were both young. Ivoire was finishing high school, and

Armand had just graduated two years earlier and was studying economics at the university. When he moved to the capital city to study, Ivoire’s family and friends figured their relationship would fade away. However, Ivoire remembered that the distance combined with the tensions across the country led her and Armand to rely on each other more than ever before in times of fear or loneliness. But Ivoire explained that her family remained skeptical about Armand:

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Our love actually seemed to intensify. But Armand explained to me that he

thought my family was reticent about our relationship as they preferred I would

marry a Tutsi, like my mother, rather than a Hutu, like my father.

Given the direction of the country, however, Ivoire’s parents reasoned that perhaps it was not preferable to emphasize either ethnicity, and Ivoire insisted that her love for Armand was the most important factor.

Reminiscing about their wedding day with a sad smile across her face as we flipped through her wedding album photos, Ivoire described to me that their wedding was small and basic. Their families gathered at the 7th Day Adventist Church, and afterwards organized a small celebration with traditional food, dance, and freshly squeezed passion fruit juice at Armand’s family’s home. As Armand was still living in Kigali finishing his degree, Ivoire stayed behind with her family to finish high school before joining him. Or that, as she depicted it to me, was the plan.

Ivoire, trying to rack her brain as she pulled on the slightly frayed sides of the

mosquito net covering the small bed where she slept with her three children, suggested

that she was not sure what time it was when she heard what sounded like pops and

screams. Frightened, she remembers running to the kitchen where her mother, father, and

three siblings were huddled together. They had heard it too, but had no idea what was

going on. However, they knew their lives may be in danger as they had heard about the

indiscriminate slaughter of Tutsis or moderate Hutus (like Ivoire’s father who had

married a Tutsi woman), or mixed children (like Ivoire and her three siblings). Ivoire’s

parents looked at her with fear and resolution in their eyes, suggesting that in the

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morning, she go to stay with Armand’s family. There, they argued, she would blend in

with the rest of the family, and they could emphasize her Hutu ethnic background, and

that of her husband’s.

At first, Ivoire did not want to follow her parent’s advice, but after three more

evenings of waking up and huddling in fear at the sound of screams, and the mornings

filled with rumors of death squads hunting Tutsis and Hutu sympathizers, a broad term to

describe anyone who refused to kill, “like animals” as she described it to me, she conceded. She arrived at Armand’s family’s home, and he came to join her three days later, announcing to her and his family that he had secured plane tickets and he would be fleeing the country with Ivoire. No one objected to this, and in their minds, they were sure that it would only be a matter of time before they saw their family again. Armand told Ivoire that they would be flying to Harare, Zimbabwe. One of his friends, he told her, had recently moved there and said they were opening large refugee centers for Rwandan refugees who were fleeing the rising tensions that appeared to be ready to boil over into full-scale genocide at any moment. Ivoire had only heard about Zimbabwe, and did not speak any English, let alone any other language spoken in Zimbabwe to the best of her knowledge, but she wanted to be with her husband. She explained to me that she saw this as an opportunity for them to begin a life elsewhere, and return once things were calm. Or in a worst case scenario, from the outside, it was surely easier to bring their families to join them. Having never traveled outside of the country, they only had uncertainty in front of them. In the context of this uncertainty, they also had enormous hope. Ivoire thought that it was this uncertainty that allowed her and Armand to imagine all kinds of

244 hopeful scenarios for their future. Furthermore, as a woman, she specified to me that she did not question the need to follow her husband as her identity as a person was now linked to her identity as his wife. Of course, in her mind all of the potential alternative future scenarios were better than what they were currently living through. Furthermore, they still had pleasant memories from Rwanda before the current conflict, and they were sure that once everything was over, they would be able to return home and raise their family in their country.

Ivoire and Armand took a South African Airways flight two days after Ivoire learned that she would be leaving for Zimbabwe. At the airport, they feigned that they were going to be visiting family and friends in Harare as a way to celebrate their honeymoon. Armand joked, when they looked at the bulging suitcases that Ivoire carried with her, shaking his head and saying that she could not bear to part with any of her dresses, and would probably have enough for four changes of outfits a day!

Once they were on the plane, Ivoire remembered the feeling of holding hands with Armand, and looking out the window at their country as they took off. Ivoire articulated how she remembered thinking:

Rwanda was so beautiful with its rolling hills. Its borders marked often with some

of the most beautiful lakes in the world. I loved my country, and from above,

from the outside, it was hard to see or predict the trouble brewing under the

surface, or to reckon with the fact that the dangerous and divisive words that had

been spreading like wildfire in our country would end in one of the world’s

greatest tragedies

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But, Ivoire reminded me shaking her head sadly, on the ground there was a genocide, which would be followed by massive violence that would spread across the border into the Democratic Republic of Congo and result in what would be called by many, Africa’s

World War. Ivoire further explained to me:

It was the fact that we had no idea what to expect that helped me leave, I didn’t

even have time to think about what could happen to us elsewhere, or what could

happen to our families that we were leaving behind. It turns out that my entire

family was killed. Mother, father, siblings. I would never see them again, but the

fact that we were looking towards a better future, really, with God by our side, it

helped me from having that thought even cross my mind. Of course, had I known,

I don’t know what my decision would have been. If I would have left. But how

can we ever really know what the future holds? We just need to trust that God

makes choices for us…

It turns out, as Ivoire further described, that they would only spend 3 months in

Zimbabwe before deciding to move on to Cameroon. Ivoire lamented that she could never keep track of time in Zimbabwe, but she knew that she needed to do everything in her power to try and get away from that country from the moment she arrived. Zimbabwe had been anything but the honeymoon they had suggested to the Rwandan border officials. At first, they were delighted to see Armand’s old friend, and be shown to a room in what was called a holding facility by local officials, and refugee centers by the refugees living inside of them. Later, they would learn that in Zimbabwe, refugees were not exactly welcome. They were confined to live and spend their time in the refugee

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centers. Leaving, or trying to find work outside, could lead to arrests or worse, from what they had heard. Or from what they had observed in seeing some of their new acquaintances try, and never return. Ivoire explained to me, “since this was our first time becoming refugees, we had never thought about these things, but we knew immediately

we needed to try to get to one of those more open countries.”

Armand and Ivoire felt they were wasting away inside the refugee center. They

were not allowed to work and had to eat only what was given to them. Many of the

mostly Rwandan refugees living in the centers would spend the better part of their day

exercising in the small athletic room in the center of the facility. Or sitting at a table and

talking. They were bored and they were anxious. Young, they wanted to get out, to start

their lives over. They knew they were not welcome back in Rwanda, but they had to get

out of there. Living a life in the confines of a refugee center was no different than living

in a refugee camp, a situation many of the refugees in Zimbabwe thought they were

avoiding by coming here rather than fleeing across the border to the refugee camps set up

in what is today called the Democratic Republic of Congo. They were being kept alive on

a day to day basis, Ivoire continued, “but our souls were screaming.” She told me that at

times when the Rwandan refugees sat around talking, they would complain that staying in

the refugee center in Zimbabwe was like a slow demise, perhaps worse in some ways

than just going home.

The misery in the refugee centers led to many instances of Rwandan refugees

attempting or completing suicide, Ivoire described. It was when she was describing this

to me that I began to ask of her, other research participants, the UNHCR, and a

247 psychologist I used to work with who had done extensive mental health programming for

Rwandan urban refugees, if there had been any attempted or completed suicides in

Yaoundé among this population. They informed me that there had not, and I wondered if something about being confined to a refugee center, like a refugee camp (for more on urban refugees versus camp or center contexts see Sections 1.2 and 2.1), hampered the ability for refugees to think about alternative futures and cut off their links from other faith and social networks that, from my data, appeared to be protective.

Yet, in these refugee centers, suicide was occurring. Ivoire told me about how she woke up one day and learned of a man who had killed himself. Others, she explained, would try to break the rules and see how strict the labor laws outside of the facility really were. Ivoire told me about one woman who had tried to venture out had been thrown in

Zimbabwe’s jail, and they never heard from her again. “Worse,” Ivoire lamented to me,

“Armand had taken to drinking locally brewed beer and falling asleep early.” Ivoire told me about how they had simply stopped having conversations and she felt like they were just going through the motions each day in misery. It had only been two months by that point, but Ivoire knew they needed to find a way out, and fast. Her description of the challenges of the refugee center also illustrate the ways in which a future orientation, and hope, is a crucial part of coping with waiting and continuing the will to live. Ivoire and other refugees that I worked with detailed to me on several occasions that hope and visions of better futures was what kept them going despite their daily circumstances. But, they also often pointed out to me the ways in which humanitarian programs or structures, like refugee camps or these refugee centers, could effectively undermine this will to live

248 in creating a semblance that refugees are stuck in time and their futures, or what happens next, being fully in the hands of someone else. In this case, the local government or humanitarian agencies managing the space where they are supposed to stay and wait.

Because of the misery associated with waiting and feeling like their futures and dignity were stripped from them, Ivoire revealed to me that at the beginning of their third month in the refugee facility, some of the refugees they knew began leaving. Some were trying their luck taking clandestine routes to Europe. Others decided they would try their luck asking for asylum in South Africa, and starting over there. “Leaving,” she reiterated,

“was an alternative to slowly dying” and being stripped of their humanity and ability to work, move, and exercise their agency. As they were approaching the end of their third month in Zimbabwe, Ivoire and Armand decided to go to Cameroon, a French speaking country where Armand had some Cameroonian friends from his university days. He had heard they were doing well in Cameroon in the private sector, and when he contacted them, they told him that there was a large and growing community of Rwandans in

Cameroon, and that Armand could get involved in a new business venture they were trying out.

As their last few days in Zimbabwe dragged on, Ivoire and Armand made up their minds definitively to go to Cameroon. They had been pushed from Rwanda, and the limited freedom to move, work, and dream during their three months in Zimbabwe was forcing them to flee again and remake their identities as refugees in another place. Since they had never been to Cameroon, Ivoire reminisced to me that it seemed promising just because it was not Rwanda or Zimbabwe, two places that they now had experience in,

249 and knew they no longer wanted to live in. At least at the moment. But they had a good feeling about what was to come in Cameroon. After all, it seemed that Armand would be able to work, and furthermore, Ivoire learned that she was pregnant, so they would be able to welcome their daughter into their world in what they hoped would become their new home.

“And that, is how we ended up in Cameroon,” Ivoire said, looking over at the small bed on the other side of the room where her older daughter, then 18-year-old

Anastasie, had just walked in without saying anything, and was now laying down and quietly playing with her smart phone. Cameroon was unlike any country Ivoire had ever seen, she explained. When their plane first arrived, she could not believe that it had landed in the capital city. Everything seemed so rural at the airport which was located several miles from the city. Once they arrived in Yaoundé, she remarked how fewer buildings and roads it seemed to have than Kigali or Harare. However, there were three main features of Yaoundé that made her and Armand comfortable, and feel more at home, than they had in Zimbabwe.

First, language was no longer a barrier in Yaoundé. In Yaoundé, Cameroon, everyone they interacted with spoke French, and while they had different accents, they were able to understand each other. From having to spend all of their time inside of a refugee center in Zimbabwe, they were not able to pick up much English or any local languages, aside from the basics they needed to interact with the staff who were in charge of handing out their rations. Being able to communicate with everyone again, was an

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enormous step towards feeling a sense of belonging in this new place for Ivoire and

Armand.

Second, Ivoire looked at me and a rare smile spread across her usually pensive

facial expression as she exclaimed, “The hills, they were magnificent!” Ivoire did not realize how much she missed the rolling hills in Rwanda, she told me. Ivoire told me that she was so happy to see, “hills for as long as the eyes could see.” While Cameroon was much different in terms of its numerous microclimates, Yaoundé itself was hilly, with some of the city’s most important infrastructure, including a hotel for tourists and diplomats on Mount Febe, and the Senate and Congressional Palace, perched on top of tall and undulating hills. To wake up and see that again reminded Ivoire in some ways of home. Although, she clarified to me, she had moved from a country of “1,000 hills” to a city known for its “7 hills,” so of course, there was a difference.

Thirdly, Ivoire exclaimed, “In Yaoundé we were free!” Or so it seemed. They registered immediately with the UNHCR and were granted refugee status. They chose to live in an urban area as there were no established refugee camps in Cameroon at the time.

Either way, she clarified, “the reason we came to Cameroon in the first place was to avoid camps.” She explained to me that her and Armand as a young and ambitious couple could no longer bear the dehumanizing features of detention facilities, which they equated camps to. As urban refugees, they did not receive any particular assistance other than prenatal healthcare for Ivoire. The UNHCR also assured that their eventual children would receive refugee papers, as well as support from the UNHCR for her healthcare in their first five years of life.

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While the refugee cards were constant reminders that they were out of place, these cards did have some advantages. They offered international protection from persecution, something that was of utmost importance to Ivoire and Armand. This meant if they ever feared for their lives, not only did they have the protection of the Cameroonian security forces, but the UNHCR could step in and support them as well, even if it meant that they would have to be relocated to another country where they were safer. Refugee cards also allowed Ivoire and Armand to apply to work, or more realistically, begin their own microenterprises in the dynamic informal sector of Cameroon. While as foreigners, they would still be discriminated against and harassed by security forces, at the end of the day, if they were well aware of these protections and patient they could make a valid case for themselves. In Zimbabwe, where they were not allowed to live or work outside of the refugee holding facility, they would not have had this right, and would have been seen as

“asking for” any punishment they incurred. Eventually, refugee cards would allow their children to access higher education at the same costs as Cameroonian citizens instead of the more expensive rates taxed to “expats” or foreigners.

Ivoire was excited that school was within reach again for her. She had never been able to finish her last months of high school. She enrolled in a night program, and was able to finish her degree with a program supported by the Canadian Government. The instructors in the class took notice of her, and told her to get in touch after her daughter was born. They reiterated that they saw potential in her, and that they thought they would be able to connect her with an employer that would be willing to train her as a pharmacy technician while allowing her to work for them.

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Armand also reconnected with his former classmates. He quickly realized that they had not fully confessed how well their business was doing. They drove the fanciest vehicles on the market, wore designer clothes, and seemed to have endless supplies of cash flowing between their accounts. When they asked him if he was still interested in helping them manage part of their business, he could not resist. “He could not believe our luck,” Ivoire confided in me.

With this new future seemingly burning bright for Armand and Ivoire, they welcomed their first daughter, Anastasie, into their lives. She was perfect, as Ivoire recalled, born healthy and chubby, and she was born just after Ivoire finished her high school diploma. After several months of nursing Anastasie and watching her grow healthier by the day, Ivoire and Armand decided to hire a nanny to help them take care of her, allowing Ivoire to take the paid internship at a pharmacy in the center of town. She learned quickly about the different products they sold and how to provide basic healthcare advice to clients that came in, while being paid. Her new employers loved her, and as Anastasie grew into a plump young toddler, a little over a year later Ivoire learned that she was pregnant with her second child, another girl. Sophie would be born just weeks after Anastasie’s second birthday. Before her second daughter, Sophie’s, birth

Ivoire was promoted to a full-time position at the pharmacy where she worked. The pharmacy allowed her to take three months off for her maternity leave, and she returned as a full-time pharmacy technician. She loved her new job, and her growing family was able to live a good life in Yaoundé. All of this helped her cope with the despair as, Ivoire explained to me, “bad news was always coming from Rwanda, although it often

253 confirmed what we already suspected, that our families were dead or missing, and we were now alone in the world.”

Ivoire went on:

I thanked God every day for protecting us from that, and tried to trust that our

families’ lives were taken for some reason we would one day understand. This

kept me going, this and my children, and my job, and my husband. We were busy,

and we at least felt like we would be able to start over here, although we decided

we would never go back to Rwanda.

When Sophie turned one-year-old, Ivoire learned that she was pregnant again. Armand, she remembers, was ecstatic to learn that their third child was going to be a boy. She continued working throughout her pregnancy, and after giving birth to their third child,

Jean, a few months before Sophie’s second birthday, Ivoire took a few months of maternity leave and then returned to work.

Yet, it was perhaps only in comparing their current lives to the loss and misery they had fled that made their lives seem so good, Ivoire reflected. During this discussion with her in 2016, she reflected that it had now been 14 years since her son was born.

Ivoire admitted however that their comforts were not shared by the majority of other

Rwandan refugees in Yaoundé, and that particularly over the past 4 years (since 2012), there seemed to be growing anxiety in the community. She remembered:

…otherwise, everywhere around us people seemed to be complaining about

something. Many of the Rwandan refugees we spent time with complained about

the UNHCR and about some sort of legislation in the pipeline that would cause

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many of us to lose our refugee status. But we (Ivoire and Armand) didn’t think the

UNHCR would fall through in the end, knowing the dangers we faced back home,

and we tried not to think about it too much.

While the Cessation Clause officially came into the picture for Rwandan refugees around

2014, there had been discussion about the potential invocation of a Cessation Clause for years earlier, according to some of the leaders in the humanitarian community. Even the earliest discussions threw uncertainty into the lives of Rwandan refugees in Yaoundé who

were not yet sure what the implications of losing their refugee status would be. Per this

key theme, as Ivoire described it, trying to think about other things, the future, or

focusing on faith, were ways to cope with this uncertainty.

Ivoire shook her head, looking at me and saying that she wishes all of that had

been true. Around 2012, Ivoire reflected to me that even the Cameroonians that Ivoire

and Armand spent time with seemed increasingly anxious about their country’s political

and economic situation. While more children were able to access higher education than

before, they lamented that a youth bulge was being created, with many educated youth

from across the country graduating with their degrees unable to find work in their fields.

Many of the youth then resorted to the informal sector, and at times, illegal activity such

as money laundering and drug trafficking which was becoming an increasing problem in

the country. Furthermore, the Cameroonian President changed the constitution again,

allowing himself another term. He was the only President that the majority of the

population in Cameroon had ever known. When I asked her if she was still nervous about

Cameroon in 2016 when I first met her, Ivoire shook her head, confiding in me, “this

255 country, Cameroon, it is not doing well, it is falling apart and into crisis. This is how it starts, I definitely know something about this.”

Yet, prior to her husband’s death in late 2014, Ivoire described to me how she and

Armand lived a comfortable life with their children. They rented a house and sent their kids to private schools. They had a nanny to help Ivoire with cooking and cleaning as she spent most of her time outside of the house at work. Armand also was busy with work, often returning late, and exhausted, but always with pockets of cash. Ivoire recalled that he did not like to talk much about his work, suggesting that it was stressful, and he preferred to leave it at work rather than take it home. All that Ivoire and the kids knew was that Armand worked at the market with his friends from college. But at the time,

Ivoire justified, “we thought that surely he just was not explaining because we were so unfamiliar with the behind the scenes realities of the market, and wouldn’t quite understand his work.”

Ivoire pulled out another photo album and handed it to me. It was not organized in any particular order, but included photographs of her three children at different ages scattered across the pages. I asked her about her son, Jean, 14 years old when I first met her in 2016, who I had not yet met. Subsequently over my three years of working with her family I would never meet him as he was often out very late, and if he was home when I came by, he would be sleeping. Ivoire ran her fingers across the edge of the album, revealing to me, “as the kids grew older, I was amazed at watching their personalities develop. They took on so many mannerisms and ways of speaking from their Cameroonian friends.” Ivoire remembered that even Armand began talking and

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speaking more like a Cameroonian. Ivoire loved her work, and was known for being a

kind and trustworthy person, excellent qualities for a pharmacy technician who often had

to consult worried, ill, and stressed-out clients. She told me she was worried about her son’s path, but she was not sure what to do about it. I sensed that Ivoire also did not want to talk about her son’s path, as it perhaps triggered memories of what would eventually happen with Armand as the more I learned about him, the more I found parallels in their lifestyles and entourage. Furthermore, her daughter was looking over at us and listening as we talked, and Ivoire seemed to not want to worry her.

“Thinking back on it two years later,” Ivoire wondered, “I don’t know if there had

not been some jealousy involved that resulted in what would happen next to my

husband.” At the time, she explained, her family’s life seemed to be so full of promise.

Looking sadly at me, Ivoire went on to suggest to me that it was perhaps her forward-

looking optimism that caused her to miss the warning signs of the course of events would

follow and change their lives at the end of 2014.

I turned to Anastasie, who had been quietly sitting and listening to our

conversation while she was manipulating her mother’s android phone. We exchanged

some pleasantries, and I asked her where her sister and brother were. Anastasie did not

seem interested in engaging in small-talk, and shrugged her shoulder, saying that her

younger sister was at school, and her brother was probably with friends. Anastasie looked

over at her mother and asked, “did you tell her about why I am not in school anymore

yet?” Ivoire said she had not yet reached that point, and then Anastasie looked at me and

said:

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I was such a brilliant student! And I still am, but I need to figure out my health

issues first. One morning, when I was 16, as I was getting ready to head to my

college preparatory class, I felt a pain in my chest. My mother suggested that it

was perhaps indigestion after the palm-oil soaked and fried eru leaves we had

eaten last night with our neighbors in celebration of my acceptance into my

college program.

But she went on to explain that her mother then went to work, only to receive a phone- call a few hours later that Anastasie had collapsed and was at the hospital.

Ivoire picked up the conversation from there. She told me that she rushed to the hospital immediately, trying to call Armand, but after the first try where the phone rang several times and was cut-off, her calls went straight to voicemail. She sent him a text message letting him know that it was urgent and asking him to call back as soon as he received her message. She reminded me that this was early 2014.

When she arrived at the hospital, she saw Sophie, 14 years old at the time,

hunched over her sister’s bed, the two quietly talking together. When they saw Ivoire

they fell silent and looked at her, their expressions giving away their fear. Ivoire was

worried that her daughter was dead, so was relieved to see her alive and talking to her

sister, despite the fear she noticed in both of their eyes. She asked what happened, and

Anastasie began to describe the increasing pain in her chest, and then collapsing, only to

wake up at the hospital. Sophie told me that she rushed her sister to the hospital, and that

a cardiologist had diagnosed her with some heart condition, and asked a bunch of

questions about her medical history that neither of them were able to answer.

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Before Ivoire could ask any more questions, a short, light-skinned, Cameroonian

doctor came in. Ivoire remembered that he was young, perhaps even younger than her,

and he had soft, caring eyes. He asked Ivoire how she was doing, and sat down on a chair

next to Ivoire’s bed, motioning for Ivoire to sit down next to him. She had not even

realized that she was still standing, clenching her fists and grinding her jaw, until he

made the motion. Something about him made her feel relaxed, so she sat down, and

quietly asked him what had happened.

The doctor first peppered Ivoire with several questions. He asked if there was any

history of heart failure in her family. Ivoire shook her head, and told the doctor that she

was not aware of any on her side, but then again, she had to flee Rwanda when she was only 17, and she had never heard from her family again until she received news that they

were dead or missing. She suggested that they were perhaps too young to have ever

developed such a condition, but then again, Anastasie was only 16. Shaking her head

again, she said she did not know of anyone who had had problems so young anyhow, and

asked what caused it. Ivoire clarified to me that the doctor tried to explain that it often

had something to do with poverty, living through hard times, and genetics, but she did not

entirely understand. Ivoire then remembered, at the mention of genetics, that the doctor

asked about Anastasie’s father.

Ivoire confessed to me that she had become increasingly suspicious of her

husband’s work-life balance, and thought that he must be having an affair or engaging in

some type of professional activity that was illegal. She elaborated, “otherwise, I could not

understand after how so many years later, we were still unaware of my husband’s

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professional activities!” Yet, she told me that even though she was also working, it was

“her responsibility” to remain a good wife to her husband, even if he “wasn’t a good husband to me.” Furthermore, she saw told me how she always considered suffering and

those kinds of challenges to be temporary, and that perhaps he was just engaging in

whatever illegal activities he was engaging in for the moment so that his family could be

supported, but it would eventually end. I unfortunately never had the chance to ask him

the same questions, but I realized she was also imposing her own way of justifying

suffering and activities that were necessary to cope with those challenges in the present,

with better futures. This was another example of the ways in which future orientations served as a way to cope with uncertainty and the waiting associated with “a better life.”

Not wanting to go into all of that with her doctor, Ivoire confided to the doctor

that his family had also mostly perished in Rwanda, except for one brother who was spending time in jail for crimes committed during the genocide. She paused, as the doctor looked at her knowingly and asked if she was Tutsi. This question always irked Ivoire, who shook her head and asked the doctor if they could stick to her daughter’s case, unless the answer to that question was relevant. She thought to herself about how all-knowing the world outside of Rwanda seemed to be about what happened years earlier. How effective the rewriting of history and erasing of suffering faced in the retaliatory attacks on her husband’s family, and many others, had been. She had taken to avoiding answering that ubiquitous question, “Are you Hutu or Tutsi?” altogether. Luckily, this time it worked and the doctor did not insist with any further questions.

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Ivoire paused from telling me about Anastasie’s initial health incident two years

ago in 2014, and asked me if I wanted anything to eat or drink, pulling out a few bottles of water and another bottle filled with peanuts. She looked over at her daughter.

Anastasie was still lying on the bed playing with the smart phone in her hand. Anastasie looked at and said, “I just have to live my life like this and wait for the day that my surgery can happen, I am like a prisoner in my own body. I just want to be human again.”

The talk of surgery reminded Ivoire that she had not finished telling me what she

wanted to say. Ivoire recounted to me that she remembered that the doctor told her

Anastasie had a heart condition that would require a life-saving surgery. Ivoire thanked

him, and asked how they could schedule the surgery, thinking that between Armand’s

seemingly endless cash flow and the support of the UNHCR, they would find a solution

to this problem. The doctor looked at her softly, and then revealed that the procedure

could not be performed in Cameroon. There were so few cardiologists, and they did not

have all of the necessary materials. He advised that she travel to South Africa, Europe, or

the United States to do it. He asked her, since she was a refugee, could she bring it up to

the UNHCR? Would they think this was enough excuse for her to be able to travel to one

of those places?

Ivoire was not sure, but the authority with which the doctor spoke about it made

her think that there was some sort of precedent he was referring to, and that his

suggestion was a completely feasible solution. She decided that she would go to the

UNHCR’s office and ask them about it immediately. She left Anastasie with Sophie, and

took a taxi to the UNHCR’s office. When she arrived, she asked if she could speak to the

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person in charge of supporting health services, noting that her daughter was in the

hospital and it was quite urgent. She was lucky to have her request accepted, but she

often was. People said it was something about Ivoire’s beauty, her long face, thin frame,

high cheek bones, and dark skin. But she also had a soft and kind demeanor to her that

made people feel automatically comfortable with her. She hoped this would play to her

advantage in making her case for support.

Once she entered the white and blue painted UNHCR office, she was escorted to a

small conference room with a large wooden table and eight chairs alongside it. It was

cold in there, and she looked up and noticed the air conditioning was humming. It seemed

they never turned them off, even when the room was empty, she thought. Just as she

stood up to turn it off, a door behind her swung open and she saw the health officer come

in and smile at her. They sat down, and, similar to the usual way meetings at this office

went, they got straight to business without exchanging any pleasantries. Ivoire explained

that Anastasie was in the hospital, and showed the health officer Anastasie’s carnet de

santé, detailing that the doctor had suggested she be medically evacuated in order to receive a life-saving surgery.

The health officer was quickly writing notes as Ivoire spoke. She looked over

them for a minute, and then told Ivoire that it was not their standard practice to medically

evacuate refugees, but that she would talk with the program officer in charge of

resettlement programs, and see to what extent it may be possible to arrange something

where perhaps she could be resettled in a country where she had access to the necessary

healthcare. She shook her head, stating that she understood the case was serious, but she

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really was not sure what other options would be possible. Ivoire revealed to me that she

wanted to hug the health officer, but refrained. When she looked at the health officer, she

realized she had not finished yet. The health officer took off her glasses and wiped some

sweat off her forehead as she turned the air conditioner back on. She told Ivoire that she

did want to be frank and transparent with her, however. The chances of a Rwandan

refugee being selected for resettlement were very slim these days. The health officer

cautioned that there were increasingly questions being asked at the international level as

to what extent Rwandans even deserved the right to remain refugees. It was 2014 at the

time, one year before the Cessation Clause was initially officially announced to the

refugees. However, the UNHCR health officer revealed to Ivoire that discussions were already happening behind the scenes and the Cessation Clause appeared to be inevitable.

Ivoire looked at the health officer, and shook her head. She said she was sure it would work out either way, and she was going to go to her church and pray every day, just to help the situation. Indeed, faith was such a strong and pervasive part of the hope and aspirations of so many refugees, especially when circumstances seemed increasingly dire. Ivoire conveyed to me, “it’s God that keeps us sane through all of this!” The health officer did not look convinced, as Ivoire remembered and now understood. However,

Ivoire remembers the health officer forcing a smile and telling Ivoire that she would call her as soon as she had any news. She noted that in the interim, they would cover the cost of the current hospital visit, providing her with a paper to present to the hospital so that they could bill the UNHCR. Ivoire thanked her and left.

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When she returned to Anastasie’s hospital room, Sophie was on the bed next to

her sister, curled up with the blanket over both of them. Anastasie was awake, and looked

at Ivoire when she came in. Ivoire took her daughter’s hand and said that everything

would be alright. They were going to figure out how to get her the surgery she needed.

Anastasie started crying, she was afraid this health condition would mean that she had to drop out of school, and she looked at her younger sister curled up next to her, and whispered to her mother, “I just want to become a person again. I was born a refugee, and now I am going to be known as sick, as weak, and we have so much else going on in our household.” Ivoire then told me she started thinking about what Anastasie meant by “so much else going on in our household.” Indeed, with Armand’s work, her son Jean’s perpetual absences, and then, there were questions around Sophie, she lamented, “we sure

did have a lot going on.”

Ivoire narrated to me how at that moment she looked at her younger daughter,

Sophie, as she held Anastasie’s hand. She had noticed the darkening of her younger

daughter’s face, combined with her swelling belly, and knew in the back of her head that

Sophie was pregnant. At 14 years old, she was going to be a mother, and make Ivoire a

grandmother. However, out of hope, or denial, she had been ignoring the “forthcoming

problem.” She was not sure who the father was, or what her 14-year-old daughter would

do with the baby. Perhaps this would mean having to drop out of school. But she had

temporarily forgotten her concerns about that in the commotion of Anastasie’s illness.

She put her head on the bed next to her daughters and whispered to Anastasie, “Yes, what

are we going to do?” As if understanding the source of her mother’s question, Anastasie

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told her mother that she would help take care of her younger sister’s baby when it was

born. So that Sophie could finish school. With her voice trailing off in the distance,

Anastasie said, “I mean, Sophie was the healthy one, so we figured that we have to make

sure she can go to school at least…” While Anastasie often expressed her desire for her own future aspirations of health, school, and a good job, when she discussed her younger sister, she often shifted the focus and made it clear that Sophie was priority for her. It was unclear if this had to do with age, or because Sophie was a mother and had her own children to take care of.

Ivoire remembered how her and her two daughters drifted to sleep as they heard the nurses coming and going. They knew they would have to be released from the hospital, and find a way to keep on living, hopefully a life that would include a solution for Sophie that would allow her to finish school and care for the child she would welcome to the world in a few months. Ivoire also described that they remained hopeful that somewhere out there, there was a solution that would allow Anastasie to continue her studies and undertake the life-saving operation prescribed by her doctor in Cameroon.

This meant that perhaps, they would be able to move to a faraway place. It was this focus on the future, Ivoire and Anastasie underscored, that kept them sane.

Ivoire remembered that she woke up in the hospital when her phone rang. She looked at her phone and saw that it was her husband’s phone number. It was nearly midnight and she had not heard from Armand all day, despite her calls and texts earlier.

She softly answered the phone, described where they were, and hung up. Ivoire told me that Armand showed up a half hour later, sweating, and reeking of a mixture of perfume

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and alcohol. Ivoire ignored that for the moment, and explained the situation, asking if he

had any heart issues in his family. He told her that there were none that he knew of. He then pulled Ivoire close to him, and in the first bout of intimacy that she recalled to me that she remembered having in years, he told her he loved her, no matter what happened.

Unsure of how to interpret that, she turned her head up towards Armand, and asked what he was talking about. Armand sat down next to her, putting his head in his hands, and stated that he was not entirely sure about his business partners. He suggested that there was some jealousy, and some things about his business that he intentionally did not want his wife and girls to know about, in order to keep them safe. This was early 2014, in a few months, he would be murdered, forever altering the lives of his wife and children.

Ivoire remembered realizing that she was not taken by surprise by these words at all. She supposed she knew that her husband was involved in something illegal, something that he should not be doing, but life was otherwise good, so she had turned a blind eye to it. She felt guilty, as a religious woman, since she had not instead tried to look at that and address it head on. Perhaps she could have avoided it, even if they would have had to live in more meager circumstances. She cursed her vanity and her selfishness.

On top of this anger though, came a sense of dread that started deep in her belly and spread to her throat. She wondered if his behavior was something that the Cameroonian authorities knew about. Or what if the UNHCR knew about it, and that would ruin their chances of being resettled. On top of that, she saw her son rarely now, and feared he was following in similar footsteps, as he was working at a nearby bar and often came home and slept all day, reeking of alcohol, perfume, and with no money. She did not want to

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think about it any longer, and instead turned her head and said she was going to go home

and try and sleep, if he would not mind staying with the girls for a little while.

The sense of foreboding Ivoire had felt since her husband confided in her the

illegality of his business dealings was something she could not shake. She depicted to me

that in an effort to distract herself, she tried to run, to pray, to talk to her friends, to draw.

But it would not leave her. Ivoire tried to stay as busy as she could, constantly following up with the UNHCR about her daughter’s health and working extra shifts at the pharmacy in order to save for her soon to be grandchild. She told me, “I tried anything really, to keep my thoughts somewhere where I didn’t need to confront them.” Indeed, focusing on their aspirations and faith were ways to keep her “thoughts” elsewhere so she did not have to dwell on the challenges she was facing. To further complicate her worries, her daughter Sophie who had always complained about sinus issues and headaches was referred to a specialist during her recent prenatal visit, and diagnosed with sinus cancer, another illness for which they did not have the means or resources to take care of in

Cameroon. At 14, not only was she going to be a first time mother, she was diagnosed with a life threatening illness like her older sister. Ivoire told me how she felt totally lost,

wondering how she could help her daughters recuperate and live healthy, meaningful

lives, elsewhere.

I looked at the clock on the wall, and asked Ivoire if she needed to get back to work? She shook her head and told me that she had taken the afternoon off, as she knew it would take a while to get through everything with me. As we were talking, Sophie walked in the door, holding her young son. Sophie was now 16 and her son was nearly

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two years old when I first met them in 2016. I introduced myself and we exchanged a few

words, but she was very quiet. She complained to her mother that she had a headache,

and Ivoire looked at me and said:

As you can see, Sophie is having another baby, luckily it is the same father but he

is a student so has no means to help really. And this time, now, there is black

running from her nose. I don’t know if it is the cancer or what, I just don’t know

what we are going to do sometimes, but God knows…

I looked over at Sophie and noticed that her stomach was swollen. A second baby was on

the way. I asked her about her boyfriend, and she told me, with a smile on her face, that

once he was finished with school they were going to get married, and that then things

would get better. She then took a few pills, presumably for her headache, and laid down

on the bed next to her sister to sleep while Ivoire held her grandson and continued to

recount their story.

Ivoire went on to say that in 2014, a few months after Armand had confided in

her, Ivoire was walking home from work, when she stopped in her path:

A snake was crossing the path, I was not sure what kind, but I knew there were

enough dangerous snakes in this region to not take my chances. Just as it crossed,

and my mind had wandered to things I should carry in case I ever ran across

another snake on my path, something which happened in our neighborhood well

off the main road often enough, my phone rang.

Ivoire described to me that when she answered she heard Armand telling her that he was in a hotel, and scared. He explained the location of the hotel, and told her that he was

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afraid he was being pursued, and that she should not call the police, but come check that

hotel if she did not hear from him the next day. He reiterated that he was afraid to come

home as he was being followed, and he did not want to bring his wife and children into

the situation he had gotten himself into.

Ivoire looked down as she sadly said, “Those hours passed like days, but when the next day I had not heard from my husband, I arrived at the hotel, and quickly learned there had been a murder there early that morning.” Before even seeing her husband’s body, she knew it was him. Ivoire nearly fainted when a hand next to her caught her. He was a Cameroonian detective, who invited her to sit down on the couch, and asked if he could ask her a few questions. The questions came, and she answered them to the best of her ability, but she soon realized just how estranged her husband’s life had been from hers. She did not know who he was working with these days. She did not even really know what he was doing for work. She explained to me that all she knew was that he was in trouble, and that this trouble seemed to have ended in a hotel murder in 2014. As she talked to the police officer, she could not help but feel that she was being watched.

People were coming in and out of the busy hotel lobby, but something made the hairs on her arms and neck stand up, she remembered vividly.

Once she finished with the detective, she took his card, and promised to call him if any new leads should arise. She took it, threw it in her purse, and then hailed a taxi to go home. “I was not sure how I was going to break this news to my children, Sophie (14 at the time) was about to become a young mother, Anastasie (16 at the time) was living from day-to-day, and Jean (13 at the time) was perpetually absent in the high life of a

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young man working at a night club,” she told me, “and I was still wondering if Anastasie

would be able to get the heart surgery she needed in time.” In the meantime, Anastastie

told me that she was constantly searching online for other solutions to her issue that may

be out there waiting for her to discover. Something the doctors may have overlooked. In

fact, over my many visits to their household over the course of my research, I nearly

always met Anastasie on her phone, researching options for work, medical evacuation, or

new solutions to address heart failure.

Ivoire quietly described to me the way she broke the news of their father’s death

to her children. She told me how she came home and her daughters were sitting together with Sophie’s boyfriend and the father of her grandson who would be born a few months later. She asked them all to sit down. The girls told her that Jean was not home at the moment. The girls quietly digested the news that their mother shared with them, and then

Anastasie threw herself on the ground crying. Sophie quietly walked away to the kitchen, with her boyfriend following behind her. Ivoire sat motionless in the middle of the room, at a loss of what to do next. Just then, her phone beeped. She looked over and saw that she had received several text messages. She could not understand what they were saying.

They were a series of numbers and letters that she did not understand, with one ominous

word phrase, “faites attention” (be careful) at the end.

Ivoire pulled out her phone as she was explaining this to me, and told me that she no longer had the phone with the original messages on it, but typed a bunch of random letters and numbers to show me what she was talking about. At first she felt the text must be an unfortunate coincidence. However, over the next few weeks, as they buried her

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husband in Cameroon, the country that had become their home after fleeing twice, she

kept receiving these text messages. The other ones did not include any phrases, just

random sequences of letters and numbers. The texts usually arrived at odd hours of the

night or morning when Ivoire and the girls were sleeping. One morning, exhausted, she

called the number that sent the text messages and heard a man’s voice answer. She began

to scream, asking why he was harassing her, and he just grunted, and hung-up. Ivoire had been to the police on several occasions, showed them the text messages, the phone number, and asked them to follow-up. She even gave them the phone to keep as evidence.

But she heard nothing else from them, just polite suggestions to perhaps change her phone number. Ivoire recounted that when she was frustrated and went back to the police who she realized would do nothing to help find the person, she looked for the phone and found that it was gone. She was not sure where it was, but was suspicious that perhaps the evidence had been destroyed on purpose. Ivoire was confused, and began to wonder just what kind of people her husband had gotten himself involved with. The police were not helping. Ivoire realized they were either afraid, unwilling, or uninterested in pursuing any leads related to this case.

As the birth of Ivoire’s grandson arrived in early 2015, and the text messages continued, she finally decided to change her phone number, and move even further away.

This is the house that I met her at in 2016 when I began my fieldwork. She explained that she wanted to try and erase her identity, not even letting other members from the

Rwandan community know where she had moved. She also told me that she was now very careful about with whom she shared her phone number. She was unsure if the person

271 harassing her was someone from her community that was involved in her husband’s murder, or aware of it in any way, but she had become cautious, not wanting to trust anyone.

She visited the UNHCR more frequently, but even in her situation, they always emphasized how they supported her, and felt bad for her, but that there was nothing they could do to speed up or prioritize her resettlement request at this time. Especially as it seemed the text messages had stopped, and there was no proof that she was being pursued in any way. They did at least renew her refugee papers though, and that of her children and grandchild. They could not guarantee that their refugee status would not be affected by the Cessation Clause that was coming up, but they also emphasized that perhaps

Rwanda was even safer than Cameroon for her. Ivoire did not feel this was the case, fearing that the murder may stem back to links in Rwanda, but she realized that perhaps life could be better there for her children.

Still, Ivoire confessed to me that she could not shake the feeling that they were somehow in danger. She was determined to find proof of this to demonstrate to the

UNHCR and prove their right to the protection that refugee resettlement would provide them. Being driven back home did not seem like an adequate solution to contend with the challenges she was facing in her growing family. Every time I visited Ivoire or her daughters at her work or their home, they would share with me new ideas they had on how they could leave Cameroon. She made it clear, like every other household I engaged with, that she would never return to Rwanda. However, she did hope with the deteriorating security situation in Cameroon and her husband’s murder still on the loose,

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that she would be able to move elsewhere. She often focused on Europe, Canada, or the

United States when talking with me.

Ivoire looked at her grandson however and told me that, “at least there are some signs God gives us that he is still doing great things for us.” She pointed to her grandson, telling me how Sophie had given birth to a beautiful baby boy, and he was already beginning to run around the house. When I first met them in 2016, he was nearly two years old. The phone-calls had stopped, but Ivoire was still cautious to tell many people

where they had moved to, a neighborhood with even more snakes than before as it was

further from the city center. However, she preferred the snakes to the fear of being

watched or followed in the city center. She constantly reiterated to me that she did not

even want the Rwandan community to know where she lived, asking me to never tell

them if they asked.

Ivoire outlined to me that the moment her grandson entered her life she was

overcome by a new-found sense of purpose. She helped to care for him with her older

daughter, Anastasie, as Sophie went to high school. She shook her head however, saying

that with the sinus cancer and the second baby on the way, she was not really sure if her

daughter would even be able to finish school, but they would try to support her to do so.

Anastasie would surf the internet tirelessly with the airtime that her mother was able to purchase for her, continuing to search for places in Cameroon that could heal her, or home treatments that would help improve the quality of her life, or perhaps even cure her.

Her chest pains were becoming more frequent, but this did not appear to make the process with the UNHCR go any faster.

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As my fieldwork went by, Ivoire started to think of other scenarios. She told me

one day that her younger sister was getting married in Texas soon. I was surprised, asking

her if not all of her family had died as she told me earlier. Ivoire detailed that her sister had not stayed in Rwanda, but rather fled to Goma, and then been resettled as a refugee in the United States years ago. Proudly, Ivoire proudly told me that her sister was now an

American citizen, spoke English like an American, and had recently searched for Ivoire

and reached out to her via WhatsApp. Ivoire was ecstatic to know that her sister was alive

and well, but sad to hear a confirmation that the rest of her family had indeed perished

along with many others all those years ago.

Ivoire looked at me and pondered how she wondered if finding her sister at this

point was a sign. Ivoire told me about how she was planning on asking the UNHCR just

for a travel document so that she could temporarily go to her sister’s wedding in Texas.

She then confided in me that she planned to overstay her Visa, and find work as a nanny

or something, making enough money and winning enough hearts, as she was usually able

to do, to find someone that would marry her so that she could become a citizen. She

detailed to me that she would then apply for her children and grandchildren to join her.

Her second grandchild was born in 2017. This seemed like a complicated scenario, I

thought. However, when I looked at Ivoire and the resolve in her voice and on her face

when she told me this one afternoon in early 2018 as we walked down the street towards her work after her lunchbreak, I realized that this was a plan she was actively pursuing.

Of course, Ivoire justified, “I would prioritize Anastasie first. She could come and then

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receive the heart surgery that she has been waiting for all these years, and perhaps even

catch up and complete a college degree!”

That same day after I dropped Ivoire off at the pharmacy she worked at, I called

Anastasie, now 20 years old, to see if she was in town, as she told me that she was going

to the Catholic mission that day to see if they could provide any support to her family.

She confirmed that she was there, and as it was just down the street, we planned to meet

there and talk in their garden for a bit. When I arrived, we sat down on a bench, and

Anastasie looked at me and declared that she refused to just sit idly by. She chronicled to

me how she had come to the local Caritas office at the Catholic mission initially looking

for work, and when they said they did not have anything to offer, she explained their

situation to see if there was anything they could do in the context of one of their projects

to support her and her family. Anastasie then surprised me, and she smiled and lit up. She had somehow convinced them, and the woman had come the next day and given them a big bag of rice. She mentioned that she had come back today to thank her, and to remind them that she was also willing to work if they had anything appropriate for her given her physical limitations.

She looked at me earnestly and told me that she still held out hope she could find a job there or elsewhere, asking me what I knew about Peace Corps, USAID, the Clinton

Foundation, and several other American agencies that she had obviously done her research on. She looked me straight in the eyes and said that she did not want to just sit at the house. She was looking for something she could do despite her fragile health, as a way to help her mother who at the time was about to lose her job. Despite being

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chronically ill, they were focused on working and making life work for them. The more I

talked with Anastasie, the more I realized that a lot of her internet research was focused

on this. Their household aspirations hinged on the success of the children in the

household, and Anastasie, as her mother’s first child told me that she was “going to

figure something out so that her mother would know her daughter would be fine.”

Finding work, finding a way out of their poverty, and figuring out how to continue her

life despite the fragile health of her and her family were priorities to her.

As a grandmother of two in 2018, Ivoire reinforced to me regularly that she felt

that she had lived the best parts of her life, so the risk in leaving, in overstaying a Visa, in

risking deportation once in the United States, seemed small compared to her overall goal.

She wanted to ensure that her daughter would survive, and thrive. She wanted to help her

other daughter, and grandsons, not have to live in the fear of their father and

grandfather’s past, something that had yet to come into focus, but of which they knew

there were likely people to whom he owed money or favors. Ivoire described to me that

criminals in Cameroon could be ruthless, and she was sure that their lives would likely

not be spared if they were “hunted down” by the men who killed her husband. She wanted to help her son get out of the sketchy life he was leading. As noted earlier, over my three years of fieldwork and regular visits and time spent with the family, I never met her son as he was always out, and Ivoire and her daughters never knew exactly where he was. He seemed to have decided to continue his life without them, but the women he left behind were constantly strategizing solutions to overcome their different health and social obstacles to achieve their aspirations. I never had the opportunity to ask Jean about

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his own aspirations and to explore the ways in which they overlapped or not with his

mothers’ and two sisters’. However, I found it notable that it almost seemed as if they

were leaving him out of their plans, given his perpetual absences and perhaps the idea

that as a man, he would figure it out on his own.

It became clear to me that as their circumstances remained challenging, rather

than giving up, they became even more convinced that a different future seemed entirely

possible. In early 2018 Ivoire went to the UNHCR’s office explaining to them what she

told me, that she had just learned her sister was alive in Texas, about to get married, and

she wanted to join her there during the wedding, and come straight back. When the

UNHCR looked at her skeptically, as if they had heard similar stories before, Ivoire told

me that she shook her head and pointed to the baby she was carrying and asked if they

really thought a mother could just abandon her two daughters and two grandsons like

that?

When she left the UNHCR office that day, she called me and we met for a cup of

tea downtown. She told me that she felt hopeful. Sure, this was not the future they had

envisioned for themselves, she clarified. They had tried hard to be able to cross the ocean legally, in a way that would allow them to access the services of the United States or elsewhere in a legal manner, and one that would surely save Anastasie’s life. But that way was not working, and there were always other ways of going about things. I remember thinking to myself that this scenario just seemed so unlikely. But then again, I also remember how surprised I was when I arrived in Cameroon for my second phase of fieldwork and found that Concilie (see Case Study 1, Chapter 6) had left for Europe.

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Ivoire pointed out to me that she felt that moving to the United States or Europe

was the best option for all of them (referring to her two daughters and two grandsons), given the health issues, and the inability to return to Rwanda as well as the lack of means to send the kids to school. Not to mention, while she felt safer in her neighborhood than she had in her old house immediately after her husband had been killed, she told me that she had been receiving odd phone calls and text messages again. She shook her head and said, “we don’t feel safe, we are just continuing life by the grace of God.”

When I asked her, if resettlement did not work out, what would be other solutions for them, she suggested that if her kids could go to school, she would be happy. She felt she had failed them in not being able to send them to pursue their dreams of university education. She also suggested that perhaps “one child can go overseas to save the others,”

suggesting that perhaps if one child was able to get a Visa to study, they could use that as

leverage to borrow money from the community and send the child overseas. She asked if

I could help, and when I gave my usual spiel on how I really could not, she asked if

maybe I even knew anyone who would marry one of her kids. This caught me a bit off

guard, but she told me about a friend of hers who had married a Canadian guy who had

asked a mutual connection if she knew anyone back home that he could marry. She

further revealed that when the two were connected, they fell in love and now live happily in Canada and are doing well with two children. I told her that I was not sure that all of those types of stories ended that way. And she agreed, citing several examples from

Canada and Australia that she knew about where women ended up being abused or forced

278 into sex work. But this did not seem to deter her, she told me that with the right intermediary, maybe it would be possible for at least one of her daughters to go.

When it seemed that I would be able to offer few solutions, Ivoire shrugged and resolved, “we will just walk then to the rhythm of the UNHCR.” Anastasie also explained that things could be really slow. They emphasized that it was really health that was most important to them, sure that if they had their health back, they would be able to live much better lives, and that was worth whatever wait they had to endure. I asked her what she meant by “their health,” just wanting to confirm that she was referring to her heart condition and Sophie’s sinus cancer. She confirmed that for me, but also mentioned that

Ivoire had several chronic health issues including hypertension that over my 3 years of working with her, Ivoire had never mentioned to me. I thought about the significance of this, in that her aspirations really did hinge on finding a way forward for her children, and when I asked Ivoire about it, she confirmed, “I am old (although she was in her 40s), and

I have already lived my life, the future is really theirs, for me, I am already done.”

Anastasie disclosed to me that they could not really think of an alternative future when their health was in such a poor state. Anastasie emphasized, “I feel useless like this.”

“I might be able to fix their futures, even if I cannot fix mine since the past is weighing so heavily on it,” Ivoire lamented. “My children’s futures, that is what matters.”

And there were multiple paths to get there that were not being presented to her by the

UNHCR, but by which she was going to find a way to make it work.

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8.1 Further sub-themes and data from additional households

This case study illustrates the third broad theme that emerged, demonstrating the way in which a future orientation and maintaining hope is a way of coping with uncertainty, waiting, and challenging circumstances in the present. In this way, hope continues to drive actions and the idea that they can and will move forward as a household, rather than get stuck in a vicious circle of worrying about the structural and physical violence that often enshrouds their lives. Sub-themes that emerged under this theme included coping with death, the burden of chronic health issues, and the ways in which hope was fueled and bolstered by faith and access to capital emerged.

Uncertainty and waiting, important themes across all of my data, were present in many forms in Ivoire’s household. I could not help but notice that Ivoire’s son was notably absent from the household, and rarely came up in our discussions. There was a lot of uncertainty around what he was doing and what he would become. However, as he seemed to be focusing on building his own life, Ivoire seemed less concerned noting that

“he is becoming a man and needs to demonstrate that he is a man to his friends and community.” In this way, his absence, as uncertain the details were about it, was accepted, expected, and excused. However, Ivoire, Anastasie, Sophie, and Sophie’s two children formed a strong sub-unit within the household whose aspirations were linked.

The uncertainty in all of their lives was linked together, and they provided support for each other as they waited to take the next step towards achieving their aspirations.

However, related to the sub-theme of structural and physical violence against women (see Section 5.3.1 Sub-theme 1) that is present throughout my research, Ivoire,

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Anastasie, and Sophie faced considerable challenges pertaining to chronic health

conditions, fear of the violence that had affected Armand spilling over to them, and

barriers to being able to continue their education and find employment. This was also

present in the way that most women heads of household often talked about how their

lives were essentially over and they had already lived what they needed to live. For

example, Antoinette articulated to me that:

I have already been through so much, I mean, my life is basically over. But what I

can do is make sure that my children and grandchildren have it better. So when I

see the future, when I think about it, and everything I do, it is in thinking about

their futures. And one day, I hope things will be better for all of them, and then I

can just die in peace.

Once women had raised their children, they expressed that they no longer needed to focus

on their own physical or personal needs. Often times their aspirations for their children

were linked with “escaping” the physical and structural violence of their current

situations. For example, Bernadette from household 9 expressed excitedly that Marcelle

getting married meant they could move to Canada away from the problems in Cameroon.

Marcelle’s father, Xavier, seemed more reticent reminding Bernadette that he had a job

now and that perhaps he would be better off staying in Cameroon even if everyone else went to Canada. Later, Marcelle told me that her father could never understand the harassment and fear that women in Cameroon lived every day, and how she often felt that was amplified as she was a refugee and may not have her security concerns taken seriously by authorities.

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These forms of structural violence also manifested themselves in households, with several women in my sample articulated that women and girls had to work with limited household resources when austerity increased. Juvenal, the male head of household from household 13, always responded to my questions about his aspirations and priorities as ensuring the success of his livelihood activities (a small store and a clandestine taxi), articulating to me that it was important for a man to have an “occupation.” However, in the same household when I asked Juvenal’s wife Belle and his daughter about their aspirations, they would articulate that with limited resources allocated to them, they had to keep rethinking how they would be able to achieve the aspirations Belle had for her daughter of going to university. Belle expressed, “I guess I really want my daughter to go, but if she can’t, at least she can get married and do something, I guess…” As resources for women and girls in the households decreased, so did their uncertainty.

However, it was hope and being able to tap into important sources of social and cultural capital that could at times be transformed to economic capital that allowed them to cope with this uncertainty, and the inherent associated waiting.

Perhaps nowhere is the demonstration of the importance of the social and cultural capital associated with faith stronger than in its link to hope and the ways in which faith helped to deal with uncertainty and waiting in providing solace that “it would all work out in the end,” as Belle confided in me. Curious to learn more about Pentecostal religion and the ways in which it bolstered faith, I accepted several invitations to visit Pentecostal churches across the city. I visited my first Pentecostal church on the outskirts of town in

July 2016. When I arrived in front of a storefront with Valerie, who had invited me, I was

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confused at first as to where the church was. But then we went around the back and down

some shaky stairs that were nailed practically into the mud, and arrived at a swamp where

there was a shack that had obviously been hastily thrown up with some burnt planks and

a tin roof. It had no sign our anything outside to indicate what the building was, but we

heard the microphone as we started to go down, and it became obvious that it was a

church when we walked in and saw the pastor sitting in front, along with other guest

pastors and translators who ensured translation between French and Kinyarwanda in a row of 2 plastic chairs on a makeshift altar. To either side there were two rows of chairs facing them for the chorus (one youth, one adults), and a drummer, guitarist, and organist. There were curtains draped along the walls of the makeshift church which had spots of black mold on them, and two fans and Christmas lights nailed to the walls. The

service was held in Kinyarwanda and in French, with the first hour or so mostly being

singing where the chorus closed their eyes and sang with enormous passion. At some

point, someone closed the tin doors in the back and people kept dancing and singing with so much energy that I hardly noticed the transition into what was more of an emotional/psychological/spiritual release where perhaps the weight of the past combined with their continued and multilayered stress and the need for this form of capital to deal with the waiting and uncertainty in their lives overtook the congregants. Several people started shaking and talking to themselves, some, like Valerie, fell to their knees and appeared to be crying and frantically begging to God, while one man behind me kept desperately talking in Kinyarwanda with his eyes closed and another woman who was active in the chorus and an excellent and energetic dancer pounded the walls and the back

283 doors as she spoke to herself. It was as if the dancing had culminated in a trance where even the music stopped and everyone was just talking to themselves, to God, some crying, some shaking, some hitting the walls, some screaming. And all of the sudden, a new song started, the back doors were opened, and most, but not all (the man behind me and Valerie remained in their positions of kneeling and speaking quickly with their eyes closed) seemed to snap out of the trance that they were in. Valerie opened her eyes, and I noticed tears streaming down her cheeks. She whispered to me that her life was going to start being better tomorrow, “I had a vision, I am sure of it.” She smiled calmly, blotted the remaining tears off her face, and started singing along again.

The households that I observed that had high hopes for resettlement, something that was increasingly unlikely for Rwandan refugees given the Cessation Clause, were deeply religious. As circumstances became increasingly uncertain for Ivoire and her family, she repeatedly evoked faith (see Section 5.3.2: Sub-theme 2) as something that allowed her to cope with the waiting for the right opportunity that would allow her to reach her aspirations. Ivoire illustrated for me how it was her faith that allowed her to keep looking towards the future as a way to put into perspective her challenging life circumstances and reassure her that things would change:

It’s God. I am a believer. I read the bible and I see how the people of Israel

suffered. If you confide in God, you will never be deceived. I have this faith and

that is what helps me from being overwhelmed by my worries. Worrying will

only make the situation worse and give me ulcers or anxiety. So in order to not

create health problems, I think about ways in which God will help me and my

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children live better. We just pray to leave. If it can work, we can maybe even

leave next year. I hope that God will give us something to do between now and

then, because sometimes when we look at each other, you see that the children or

my grandson are hungry, it is difficult. But when we think of how soon we will be

in the United States, and the kids can finish their studies there, and my daughter

can regain her health… We know God will take care of us.

Valerie further outlined to me how she would go every Wednesday to pray at a rock on a high peak in the city, and attend Pentecostal services like the one I went to with her at least two times a week, to continue to thank God for his plan, and cope with the long-time it was taking to pan out. Francoise from household 6 described to me how she went to “all the churches I can, to pray that the UNHCR will change their minds and allow my brother to sponsor me so I can go to the United States and my sons can fulfill their dreams.” Jeannette from Case Study 2 (Chapter 7) reminded me regularly how faith had helped her bear 10 years of waiting to know if her sons were alive and be reunited with them, and that she was sure that faith would help her deal with the waiting to see the divine plan God had in store for them. She told me, “After all, he (God) already showed me that I could be with my children again, he obviously won’t abandon me now.”

Elisabeth from household 10 explained to me about how her daughter had taken to praying all day as she waited for a life that was not “miserable”:

My beautiful daughter, do you see her (holding out a picture), so beautiful!

Anyhow, she is always in that place (pointing to a shack up the street). It is a

church, one of those born again ones. I don’t really go there, but my daughter

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asked me one day, or I guess, told me, ‘mom, don’t you know that I see what we

are going for, what else am I supposed to do other than wait in misery, I have to

pray!’

Lila from household 12 also regularly talked about how “God will help my children” as

she expressed her concern about them growing up with autism in Cameroon where they

did not have adequate access to the specialized education they needed. Faith was a way of

coping with the waiting that was part of her hope and aspirations for a better life for her

sons.

Indeed, faith also helped to transform intransitive hope (see Section 3.2) into

something that seemed altogether feasible, as Francoise portrayed to me when I saw her

for the first time after a few months. When I first saw her, I was surprised at how she

looked thin, and angry. She complained that, “the UNHCR ruined my life as they had

refused my case to be resettled in the United States,” telling me about how the UNHCR

staff she met with told her abruptly that, “resettlement doesn’t happen between brothers

and sisters.” At this point, she explained that she only expected papers from them, declaring, with some hope, that she was sure they would prolong their refugee status rather than giving the carte de resident. She shook her head, telling me, “they (the

UNHCR) only care about Central African and camp based refugees.” She seemed to have lost all faith in the UNHCR. However, her mood changed when she looked up at me and said, ‘It is God who will save us.’

Social networks (see Section 5.3.3 Sub-theme 3) were also a key form of social capital that provided a way of coping with the temporal aspects of hope and waiting. The

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social networks linked with the above mentioned faith-based institutions were often

described to me by refugees as central to their lives. On many occasions while I was with

Ivoire in town, either walking or talking with her at a café near the pharmacy she worked

at, we would run into Catholic priests, Jesuit brothers, and pastors that she seemed to know very well. She mentioned to me that while she was 7th Day Adventist, she generally liked to have many religious people in her network as a way to ensure her prayers were heard across religions.

Households often connected with their social networks as a way to act on their aspirations, and relied on support from these networks as a way to cope with the wait of achieving these aspirations. Victoire from household 2 actively started several groups, understanding how important it was for women to be connected if they were going to achieve their goals. She even asked me one day if I could give her President Trump’s email address so that she could write to him on behalf of one of her women’s groups and see if he would be willing to help her. I laughed at this request, but also recognized the significance of the way in which writing to him would help the women in that group cope with the wait for his response, or for their situations to change, together. On the opposite side of the spectrum, while many households were connected with overlapping faith and other social networks that helped them cope with waiting, those that were not as well connected often seemed stuck and more desperate and unable to think about alternative futures. For example, Celestin from household 15 was not well connected with and had a high degree of distrust of the Rwandan refugee community. For this reason, when I visited him, he would usually cling to me as I was leaving, showing me pictures of his

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past life as if to demonstrate he is someone worthy of respect, and asking if there is

anything at all I could do to connect him to different resources that would help him

improve his life or move elsewhere. Unlike many of the other households who would ask

their various social networks to help them, he seemed to be disregarded and disconnected

from any social networks, as when I came to his house he was usually alone with his

livestock and traditional medicine, only with a periodic customer.

8.2 Discussion

My data, particularly from my participant observation of agency and practice, allowed me to observe the ways in which hope, faith, and social networks were foundational in transforming the perspectives of my research participants from what

Appadurai (2013: 127) refers to from passively “waiting for” their aspirations, to actively

“waiting to” achieve them in the larger context of their aspirational maps. This case study exemplifies the contextual nature of hope that is evident through the capacity to aspire

framework. Hope was contingent on the situation and an evolving concept that changed, and also waxed and waned, over time as circumstances got better or worse. At a point where it seems Armand was feeling increasingly helpless in the confines of the refugee center in Zimbabwe, Ivoire explained how he took to drinking and sitting around all day, and that escaping that was enough for her to accept the uncertainty of what a future in

Cameroon would be like and make the move with him. When things seemed to be going well for Ivoire and her family prior to her daughters’ health diagnoses, pregnancies, and her husband’s murder in 2014, their hopes were focused on university education and continuing to build their lives in Cameroon. However, as violence and health issues

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began to take central positions in their lives from 2014 onwards, they began to focus on

ways to escape, and imagine possibilities elsewhere. Their circumstances had completely

changed their aspirations, and they needed to actively figure out how to leverage

structures and capital they had access to in order to navigate their new aspirational maps.

Central to many of the aspirations of my research participants was the desire to

escape. Yet, they often did not have access to the capital or structures on their

aspirational maps to effectively achieve these aspirations (with the exceptions of Valerie

who was resettled with her daughter by leveraging her HIV status and the fact that she

was a single mother headed household to the UNHCR, and Concilie who opted for a

clandestine and uncertain route to France). I observed this desire to escape in two

principal ways. The first way was demonstrated by my research participants’ stories of their plans to physically move from one context to another. For example, Ivoire and

Armand left Zimbabwe for Cameroon to escape the conditions there. Most of the households I engaged with talked about their desires to move elsewhere to escape the challenges of the present. However, physical escape was not the only type that I observed over the course of my fieldwork. My research participants also discussed the ways in which focusing on the future, faith, or throwing themselves into their social networks were ways to mentally escape their challenges, or “not think about it.” In doing this, rather than remaining in frozen and passive positions of “waiting for,” they were able to take action and pursue their aspirations, positioning themselves as “waiting to”

(Appadurai, 2013: 127).

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Women’s experiences with physical and structural forms of violence, was central to the ways in which the women in my study articulated and acted on their aspirations.

Over my three years working on this dissertation, it was in fact some of the most challenging circumstances, involving extreme violence such as exposed in Ivoire’s case study, or forms of rape and sexual violence that I heard in many of the stories of the women I worked with, where I uncovered some of the most profound and clear expressions of hope. In all three of the vignettes presented through Chapters 6, 7, and 8, these are evident. For Concilie and Ernestine (see Chapter 6), they clearly wanted to make sure Concilie could physically leave Cameroon and start a new life in Europe so that she had a shot at an education and starting a family without the cloud of physical and structural violence over her head. Jeannette (see Chapter 7) made it clear that she wanted to make sure her sons succeeded in their new home, and she did everything possible to not get in the way of their success. Ivoire and Anastasie clearly articulated to me that they were searching for ways to ensure futures where Anastasie and Sophie had their health, and were able to go to school and “become human again” or make something of themselves. All of these aspirations emerged in the context of enormous violence and serious chronic health issues combined with concerns about impending legal precarity.

This is not something entirely unique to the community I researched, although my findings underline that the gendered aspects deserve more attention. As discussed in

Section 3.3.2, Kleist (2016b) also argues that it is often in these circumstances where persons are pushed to the margins that hope emerges. Among the women I worked with, there was always a sense that the challenges being faced currently, or in the past, should

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be taken in their temporal context, and there was no way that these hardships could

continue forever. They were just passing moments.

Yet, because of decreased resources allocated to women and girls, they often had

a harder time accessing the various forms of capital that they needed in order to reach

their aspirations. This finding echoed the literature on women in conflict zones and

women in the context of environmental degradation where women often bear a

disproportionate burden of increasing contextual challenges (Cohn, 2013; Cutter, 1995).

In this context, may women and girls would try to increase their chances of being able to

go overseas through the prospects of marriage, even if they did not know the groom-to-

be. It was the importance of their aspiration to leave that allowed them to cope with that

uncertainty and the potential disappointment that some women, like Marcelle, echoed to me that she “wasn’t sure what a marriage that doesn’t start with love will be like.”

Other aspirations that emerged and required significant waiting and uncertainty to

achieve were related to dealing with chronic health or other conditions. This was evident

in Lila’s concern for her autistic sons, and Anastasie’s desire to find a solution, even

through her google searches on her smartphone, towards her heart condition and “become

a person again.” She focused her energy, hope, and associated aspirations and activities

on finding ways to mitigate her health issues so that they could continue her life. Despite

the pain and sadness that these conditions created in their everyday lives, it was their

hope that they would be able to achieve their aspirations that allowed them to deal with

the uncertainty in not knowing how exactly that would happen.

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The field on which Ivoire and her daughter’s aspirational map existed was characterized by uncertainty and waiting. Ivoire experienced this prior to fleeing genocide for Zimbabwe, prior to fleeing the refugee center for Cameroon, and in her current situation where she was figuring out the possible paths forward in the uncertainty surrounding Armand’s murder, and what it would mean for their future in Cameroon.

Other significant obstacles existed in the broader field, including Ivoire’s chronic health conditions, and those of her two daughters, as well as access by her daughter’s to key structures including healthcare services, including the surgery that was only available overseas for Anastasie, and continued education.

Like the rest of the refugees, the UNHCR, Government of Cameroon, and laws related to refugees and their rights were also key structures that influenced the broader field and the aspirational map of Ivoire and her daughters. Every country has their own way of “managing” refugees (Agier, 2011). Zimbabwe, like Kenya, tried to control refugees by forcing them to stay in prescribed places (holding facilities in Zimbabwe, refugee camps in Kenya). Other countries, like Uganda and Cameroon, allow refugees to live outside of camps, although they need to ensure that they have certain legal documents that prove who they are, and in Uganda’s case, allow them to work (Agier,

2011). In Cameroon, refugees are allowed to work as soon as they are granted refugee status and hold a UNHCR issued refugee card. The Cessation Clause created some uncertainty as to what the implications of losing their refugee status could be.

Furthermore, the UNHCR was instrumental to Ivoire and her family in supporting them in working with the police in the aftermath of Armand’s murder, and advocating for the

292 case to be continued to be pursued. Furthermore, Ivoire and Anastasie in particular hedged their bets on the UNHCR to find a solution for Anastasie to access the surgery that she needed in order to address her heart problem before it was too late. Sometimes, it almost felt as if there were few structures outside of the UNHCR which the refugees relied on and engaged with. This made the potential of losing their refugee status even more grave, as it could mean the loss of support, even if it was limited, from the structure that was central in their lives.

Faith as social and cultural capital was an important component on refugees’ aspirational maps, although it may not be enough to help them achieve their aspirations.

However, faith bolstered a will to keep on living and seemed to be psychologically protective to my research participants. I found parallels in some of the ways that evangelical Christians used their faith to cope with hardship, and that which the anthropological literature has begun to focus on the ways in which evangelical religion can help to create meaning in the lives of marginalized persons globally (Bielo, 2011;

Crapanzano, 2003; Haugen, 2016; Turner, 2015). As noted in chapter 6 (see Section 6.1), even when Valerie and her daughter experienced extreme forms of gender-based violence and health issues, faith helped to convince them that this was perhaps part of “God’s plan” to allow them to be more deserving cases for resettlement. Faith helped them cope with the wait of resettlement. And the precedent set by the fact that they were eventually resettled surely only bolstered the faith of other refugees, allowing them to similarly continue to cope with the uncertainty and waiting linked with their aspirations of going elsewhere.

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The UNHCR also provided social and economic capital to many refugees that allowed them to cope with uncertainty and waiting. This included access to healthcare, education, and support related to safety and security. However, this capital was only available for persons who held refugee cards, not individuals like Pierre (see Chapter 7), who had his refugee request rejected.

Related to education, Ivoire also possessed the rare social capital through her luck in accessing a Canadian scholarship and having worked for many years in the private sector as a pharmacy assistant. She leveraged this social capital to ask for support when she lost her job, and was able to find daily work from time to time. Her skills also allowed her to provide informal pharmacy consultations to community members that would generate some additional income.

Lastly, the ability that hope provided in being able to cope with waiting and uncertainty was an impetus to search for and access other forms of capital. One example of this was when Anastasie asked me about specific grant or job opportunities as well as social support from the U.S. Embassy, Caritas, USAID, Peace Corps, or the Clinton

Foundation (see case study above). She demonstrated that she understood very well that capital was key to being able to address her problems, and she actively searched for new forms of capital and structures that could provide support which she could add to the field that served as the foundation to her aspirational map. Interestingly, she tried to leverage her relationship with me (between American researcher and research participant) to try and access this capital, which I would have been open to helping her with if any of the

294 opportunities she shared and asked me about seemed immediately relevant. She made the connection with Caritas (see case study above) on her own.

Using the conceptual model of this dissertation, it is clear that the above referenced aspirations, aspirational map and field, situational and socio-cultural factors, and access to capital are all important to understand in analyzing my research participants’ capacity to aspire. The ability to cope with uncertainty and waiting, rather than giving up hope and stop trying altogether (like the refugees who committed suicide in refugee centers who felt they had no options and were unable to cope with waiting), is an important component of the capacity to aspire. The ability to cope with waiting and uncertainty allows hope not to be lost and persons not to stop seeking strategies towards achieving their aspirations, but this maintained hope also provides a means to cope with the continued waiting and uncertainty.

Focusing on being able to move elsewhere was present across this theme of hope as a way with coping with uncertain futures. The idea of a future somewhere else was a way to try and physically imagine all of the stresses of life in Cameroon disappearing. It was also a way to cope, as it reinforced the sense that suffering and hardship was temporary. Yet, much of the humanitarian programs available only focused on alleviating the immediate suffering. Keeping hope alive may be something that implicitly many humanitarians aim for, but it is not an explicit mission of the UNHCR or most humanitarian agencies. My research underlines that it is imperative the humanitarian community revisit their approaches. Humanitarian programs undermine the dignity and personhood of the individuals these programs aim to serve by not allowing for their

295 specific hopes and aspirations to be central to the programs devised to support refugees.

Like Brun’s (2016) work in refugee camps, the data I collected during this research underlines that there is an opportunity to explore plausible futures with urban refugees, and find ways to help urban refugees work towards these goals, rather than focusing only on the suffering they consider temporary, or raising false hope for resettlement.

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Chapter 9: Moving humanitarianism forward

9.1 Leveraging the capacity to aspire framework in the humanitarian sector

Anthropologists and other social scientists recognize the various social, political, and economic causes that lie at the root of the refugee experience that affect refugees’ psychological health and well-being (Coker, 2004; Duyan et al., 2015; Fassin, 2009; Link

& Phelan, 2002). Other research demonstrates that maintaining hope is key to psychological health and well-being (Eggerman & Panter-Brick, 2010). But hope in and of itself is not enough. It is imperative to understand the factors that affect the capacity to aspire of the world’s marginalized including understanding their metaphorical navigational maps and how access to various forms of capital and societal structures support or impede them. Therefore, humanitarian public health interventions focused on psychological health and well-being will not be successful without also understanding the social conditions, including gendered expectations and effects, that affect the hope and aspirations of displaced populations (Yotebieng, 2017c).

Early on in my fieldnotes I noticed that I started writing “hope?” in the margins.

Following an IRA (Agar, 2006) approach, I continued to follow-up on this lead, both by asking probing questions as to what may be driving the hope or lack there-of that I was observing among my research participants, and referring to the anthropological and broader psychological literature to understand how other researchers studied hope. My proxy for marking that hope seemed to be present were conversations that were bursting

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with ideas, and where I felt convinced that my research participants truly believed they

would be able to implement these strategies and achieve their aspirations. On the other

hand, when I asked persons what their aspirations were and they were not able to identify

any, or when I found them seemingly struggling to imagine a different life for themselves

as they talked about their significant challenges, I would mark that as “lower hope” in my

fieldnotes. While this is not a perfect measurement, it was helpful for me, especially in

allowing me to observe the ways that hope seemed to rise and falls within household

units depending on their circumstances, and trying to identify what components of their

lives seemed to bolster or impede hope. I found that an important one were achieving

successes sometimes, which created precedents.

Anthropological perspectives can allow us to better understand “what matters most” to populations, exploring what are the most important components of their imagined futures rather than imposing etic categories or templates from one-size-fits-all

humanitarian public health models on them (Kleinman, 2006: 231). This focus allows us

to shift the narrative and understand the ways in which refugees define, and the strategies

by which they strive to achieve, success in their lives (Appadurai, 2004; Castaneda et al.,

2015; Feldman, 2016). It also allows us to contextualize this ability to maintain hope, or this capacity to aspire, in the larger political, economic, and social structures in which refugees find themselves (Appadurai, 2004; Bok, 2010). The capacity to aspire framework is a powerful tool that can be used by humanitarian public health programs to understand hope and aspirations in their context, and identify opportunities to bolster them.

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The conceptual model I use in this dissertation (see Figure 1) operationalizes the capacity to aspire theoretical framework by identifying areas of evidence that need to be gathered, and the ways they interact with each other. This model situates the experiences and aspirations of different, mostly women, members of Rwandan refugee households within their broader socio-cultural context, societal and humanitarian structures, and access to capital. This includes attention to the strained access to various forms of capital experienced by Rwandan refugee women, and the underlying, often gendered, forms of physical, sexual, and structural violence that may further necessitate their need to leverage different forms of capital and access key structures (including legal, physical and psychological healthcare in the aftermath of experiences of harassment or violence) to support them. The capacity to aspire situates aspirations in concrete terms by underlining what it is a person wants to achieve (aspirations), a belief that they can be achieved (hope), the actual feasibility of any plan to achieve them (political economy including access to capital and limiting structures), and the actions taken to achieve them

(strategies).

Conducting my research at the household level allowed me to uncover how household dynamics affected aspirations and practices, as well as distinct sub-units, often dyads or triads that became my unit of analysis. Three broad themes emerged from my evidence (see Chapters 6-8): (1) the ways in which hope serves to justify strategies taken to achieve aspirations (Chapter 6); (2) mothers’ notions of sacrifice and need to avoid becoming a burden as a way to maintain hope for their kin (Chapter 7); and (3) the role that hope plays in being able to cope with waiting and uncertainty (Chapter 8). Within

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each of these broad themes, sub-themes emerged and are discussed in the results chapters

6-8. Additionally, overarching sub-themes (see Section 5.3) emerged across all three of

the themes: (1) the structural considerations of women and girls; (2) the roles of faith as a

form of social and cultural capital and (3) social networks as a form of social capital and

access to key structures in the context of women’s capacity to aspire.

In particular, hope, faith, and social networks were overlapping forms of social and cultural capital that helped my research participants cope with uncertainty, waiting, and other challenges in their lives. Hope helped many persons to avoid ruminating on their troubles, as several research participants reiterated to me over the course of my fieldwork (see Section 8.1). While I will not go into depth on this finding here, I articulate elsewhere the links between this rumination and the common idiom of stress,

“thinking too much” (Yotebieng et al., 2018b). But, refusing to think about their troubles was mostly feasible because they had (a) cultural capital in the form of visions for better futures (hope and aspirations), (b) social and cultural capital in the form of strong religious faith (God would take care of them), and (c) social capital in the form of additional forms of social support including other people in their social networks who shared and believed in their hope and aspirations. Hope, faith, and social networks in the face of uncertainty helped my research participants cope with the obstacles and challenges that faced them in pursuing their aspirations, so as not to be discouraged and give-up.

Guided by the capacity to aspire framework, my research also underlines the ways in which household members are agents, engaging practice towards their aspirations in

300 their broader socio-cultural and political economic contexts. My research participants were anything but the suffering, hopeless victims that refugees are often portrayed to be. I argue this was even the case among the women in my research who were concerned about becoming a burden (see Chapter 7), as they still actively implemented strategies towards avoiding becoming a burden and achieving their aspirations which centered on their children’s success. My research participants were facing enormous challenges such as the Cessation Clause, xenophobia, and chronic health conditions. These challenges led to different degrees of marginalization among my research participants, including complicating access to important structures in the fields underlying their aspirational maps such as healthcare, education, and/or housing. However, they were pushing against these challenges, and the conceptual model I use to operationalize the capacity to aspire framework (see Figure 1) allows me to explore this resistance (what Ortner and I call agency) without losing focus of the precarity in which these actions occur. My research participants pushed against power structures which they deemed to be limiting or unjust as a way of exerting their agency, especially when the stakes were related to their cultural goals of the ultimate well-being of their kin. Understanding limiting power structures is critical to truly understand agency among marginalized populations.

Hope provided the spark of possibility that allowed my research participants to work towards their desired futures in different ways despite their circumstances including unequal access to various forms of capital (see 3.1.1). This research aimed to understand hope and aspirations at the household level, including the strategies (see Section 9.1.1 below) that household members take while exerting their agency so as to inform

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humanitarian initiatives on how to best recognize, maintain, and bolster hope, while maintaining the humanitarian principle of “Do No Harm.” This is particularly important where some of the strategies may lead to potential deleterious physical or psychological outcomes of the persons engaging in them. Through understanding the lives and practices of urban refugees in this way, evidence from anthropology contributes to building culturally appropriate and respectful humanitarian programs. Below I outline some broad findings relevant to the humanitarian and public health community. In section 9.2 I will discuss the applied implications of these findings.

9.1.1 Broad Finding 1: A nuanced understanding of strategies or health behavior

In many humanitarian and public health models, strategies or behaviors are framed as choices that are taken that can lead to unexpected, nonlinear better or worse outcomes (Ungar, 2012; Ungar, 2013; Ungar et al., 2013). However, anthropologists underline that the strategies or behaviors of marginalized persons need to be understood within the confines of the unequal broader environmental risks they face in their lives

(Faas, 2016; Oliver-Smith, 2016; OXFAM, 2013). In this research, it became clear that these strategies or behaviors are influenced by a multitude of factors included in my conceptual model (Figure 1) that I use to operationalize the capacity to aspire in this research. This includes socio-cultural expectations of the persons engaging in the strategy, the aspirations driving the strategy, and the access to capital and structures that allow the persons to have greater or worse navigational capacity on their aspirational maps.

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The particular circumstances, including past and present experiences with physical and structural violence, of the refugees I worked with during this dissertation research varied from household to household. Hage (2003, 2016) astutely argued that hope is not distributed equally at the societal level, and this study of urban refugee women exemplifies that in the limited options available to them. Intricately entwined and virtually inseparable from this reality is that the aspirational maps of marginalized persons therefore are fraught with obstacles and barriers, and that marginalized persons may not have access to the capital to be able to effectively understand their aspirational maps and access the key structures needed in order to achieve their aspirations. This may lead to the engagement of strategies such as the sex work, non-compliance to chronic health regimens, or clandestine travel to Europe or the United States that are broadly referred to in the public health and humanitarian literature as “risk behavior” because of the fact that they increase potential exposure to physical bodily or psychological harm.

As someone trained in public health and with a long humanitarian career prior to beginning this research, I caught myself labeling certain behaviors that I observed as

“risk behavior” in my fieldnotes. Risk is a ubiquitous focus of research across public health, medicine, and social science scholarship on refugees and displaced persons.

Within public health, risk research focuses on risk perceptions, risk behavior, and environmental risk factors (Blackwell, 1992; Krieger, 2001; Munro et al., 2007; Rhodes,

2002). Risk behavior research in public health aims to understand the ways in which behaviors that may result in physical harm or higher probability of exposure to poor health outcomes can be better understood and mitigated.

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However, from a “risk perception” analysis, my research participants never

discussed actions that I observed as “risk behavior” in that way. For example, as

demonstrated through Case Study 1 (see Chapter 6), Ernestine and Concilie never

explicitly spoke of Concilie’s clandestine travel to Europe as “risky.” It was always

discussed as the “right decision” against a backdrop of violence, precarity, and suffering.

Similarly, behaviors that would be seen as “risk behavior” or non-compliant from a

medical perspective, like skipping or reducing quantities of medicines for chronic illness,

was never qualified as “risky.” Non-compliance to medical regimens was rather

described as an obvious necessity to free up resources in the household that should be

invested towards the aspirations of their kin. Without situating actions into a broader

context of practice towards different long-term outcomes, and the agency and constraints

of the persons exercising the observed action, we are blinded from identifying the ways

in which these actions can also be seen as productive from the perspective of those

engaging in them. I realized that I needed to shift the focus of my analysis of these

behaviors from “risk behavior” to strategies so as not to allow humanitarian and public

health frameworks on “risk behavior” to influence my framing, understanding, and

ultimate recommendations related to understanding the driving forces behind these

strategies, the contexts in which these strategies were occurring, and identifying limiting

structures or access to capital that may be leading to the more frequent engagement in

these strategies.

My research participants would tell me about their activities in ways that made me realize that they saw them more as sins or transgressions. Significantly, through the

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justification of these behaviors as actions that “God would understand” these behaviors

were perceived as temporary and forgivable as long as research participants kept their

social and cultural capital of faith and understood that they were “sins.” Actions that were

put forward in this way included theft, sex work, and wishing for death (or at least explicitly expressing the desire to die). For example, Valerie and Francoise, two mothers who adhered strongly to their Christian faith, both clearly articulated to me that ensuring better futures for their children could lead women to do “unthinkable things” like sex work. These “unthinkable things” were forgivable because they were undertaken for a greater good, and not explicitly to cause anyone (notably themselves) harm.

Syvertsen et al. (2014) argue that much research on “risk” perception and behavior assumes that everyone understands “risk” in the same way, which is, simply put, not the case. “Risk behavior” in its many forms is often not understood, justified, and undertaken by individuals engaging in these actions with the same underlying assumptions held within scientific communities that study “risk”. “Risk” is also a socio- cultural construct. In my dissertation, I observed women engaging in activities such as clandestine migration or sex work with direct links to broader aspirations and better futures for their kin. Indeed, Mahoney (2016) underlines the ways in which “risk behavior” as understood by humanitarian and public health professionals is a normal and expected part of life for many migrant populations as their options are often extremely limited. However, the need for a more nuanced understanding of strategies and health behavior that humanitarian and public health practice label as “risk behavior” is not unique to refugees. The factors that influenced the choice of strategies including limited

305 access to various forms of capital and societal structures are important considerations across populations that are often systematically marginalized in their societies globally, including women.

My findings underline the need to pay attention to how access to various structures and forms of economic capital often conflict with the important social and cultural capital of faith when understanding how strategies are engaged in justified.

Nearly all of the women-headed households I worked with suggested that they had at times engaged in sex work or other activities which they did not morally agree with in order to survive. If they did not tell me directly that they have been pushed into sex work in the past, they told me about other women in the community that had to do it. All of the women I met with over the course of this research were also devout Christians, and justified their engagement in sex work, cutting their healthcare, or other activities as a way that “God is testing us.” Situating strategies in the context of aspirations, a greater good, and “God testing us” allowed the mothers I worked with to continue even when in their discourse they underlined that they were often conflicted. Seeing these behaviors as mere transgressions towards a greater good provided psychological solace in making them more palatable and helping women cope with what the decisions they expressed as being necessary. In regards to non-compliance to chronic health regimens, women were also able to cope with the pain in skipping their medicines by ensuring themselves that

God will understand because their families will benefit.

Over the course of my dissertation research and through the operationalization of the capacity to aspire framework through my conceptual model, the evidence I gathered

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also emphasized the important role that the often strained access to the important social

capital of social networks played in supporting or justifying strategies. Oliver-Smith

(2016) underlines the ways in which displacement, especially forced displacement, often disrupts established social networks. In this way, households who had spent less time in

Cameroon were often not as connected to the social networks that could perhaps otherwise buffer their need to engage in some activities over others. Similar to my findings, Mahoney’s (2016) research on mobility and “risk-taking” practices among persons engaged in the informal sector in coastal Kenya further demonstrates the ways in which access to social and economic capital through connections to social networks dictate the available strategies and the need to engage in “risk behaviors.” Similarly,

Roche et al. (2005) underline how relative social isolation can push women into certain

“risk behaviors” that others may not have to engage in. This underlines the importance to understand the particular experiences of women, as I aimed to do through this dissertation research.

9.1.2 Broad Finding 2: Understanding individual strategies at the household level

Individual actions, strategies, or “risk behavior” (in line with the aforementioned humanitarian and public health literature) are usually framed at the individual or the broader community level. However, findings from this research underline the importance of understanding household dynamics and identifying how sub-units within households influence each individual’s strategies if appropriate programs are to be developed to address behaviors that are identified as potential harmful to the person engaging in them.

On the other hand, while much of the research focuses on the individual or broader

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community level, in my decade of experience working in the humanitarian sector, the

services that we provided to displaced persons were often determined and distributed at

the household level.

The household links individual household members to the broader societies and

structures, including researchers and humanitarian agencies that they interact with on a regular basis. However, over the course of my dissertation, the evidence I gathered underlined the importance of exploring what is hidden in the household and needs to be understood and uncovered in order to ensure that the well-being of all household members is supported through social services. The capacity to aspire framework, operationalized through my conceptual model, helped to shed light on inter and intra-

household dynamics, and what household strategies looked like across different household members. These dynamics can then be highlighted to social service programs and policy-makers to ensure that they do not inadvertently undermine the well-being of particular persons, including women, in the household (Yotebieng & Forcone, 2018). By

applying the capacity to aspire framework at the individual and household sub-unit levels

and comparing aspirations and strategies within these sub-units, I was able to identify and

understand the differential effects of changing social service frameworks and

humanitarian policy on household members. For example, this approach helped to

identify the cascade effects of Pierre’s refugee status being rejected on his mother,

Jeannette, and his brother, Bernard.

One of the advantages of conducting this dissertation research over 3 years, and working with refugees that had been in Cameroon for decades was that this allowed me

308 to understand the ways in which households changed over time. Importantly, this included the ways in which mothers articulated the ways in which, as their children got older, they began to feel that they were “becoming a burden.” The ways in which women avoided “becoming a burden” came through in different forms. As illustrated in Case

Study 2, Jeannette cut back on her healthcare as a way to ensure more funding was available to support an eventual continuation of technical training or education for her sons. Interestingly, a focus on the sub-units within households also revealed discrepancies in who was given refugee status and who was not, despite fleeing the same circumstances on the same day, by a central structure to my research participant’s lives, the UNHCR.

Faith was a key form of cultural and social capital that also played an important role in helping my women research participants justify their strategies to avoid becoming a burden (see Section 5.3.2 Sub-theme 2). Many women justified to me that “God wanted them” to make certain sacrifices if it was for the well-being of others in their household.

As noted in Case Study 2 (Chapter 7), other women expressed the desire to die at times as a way to not become burdens on their children, and would later tell me that they were either sorry to have wished that (as wishing to die was considered to be a sin in their religious context), or that God would understand why they were having those thoughts.

Social capital was central to understand, including how different household members within these sub-units may have privileged or constrained access to different social networks. While the majority of the women I worked with rarely spoke about approaching their different social networks to support something specific about their

309 health and livelihoods, they did if they needed connections or to borrow money to support their children. An examination of social capital through this capacity to aspire conceptual model leads to important insight as to how more or less isolated households can be better linked together to avoid having to engage in strategies that may have negative repercussions on their health or well-being. Evidence from this project demonstrates that we need to look beyond obvious forms of social capital such as faith networks and other refugee households. It is also important to observe the ways in which households are linked to social capital that may not be on radar, like the case of

Elisabeth’s lover (see Chapter 7: Case Study 2, discussion). Findings from my dissertation research underline the need for research to be focused on emergent sub-units within households to understand the ways in which aspirations are acted upon in the form of different strategies. Particularly, it is important to understand the ways in which some household members, often mothers, may jeopardize their own well-being in order to make up for losses at the household level.

9.1.3 Broad Finding 3: Shifting the frame of reference to the future

Emerging scholarly debates suggest that both humanitarian paradigms and anthropological research push aspirations to the sidelines (Appadurai, 2013; Brun, 2016;

Jansen, 2016). However, other scholars make the case for a concerted focus on aspirations, underlining the productive role of the hope that inspires these aspirations as a way to endure and, at times, overcome suffering (Appadurai, 2004; Eggerman & Panter-

Brick, 2010; Kleinman, 2014; Robbins, 2013). Indeed, hope for the future shapes agency, or aspirations and corresponding actions in the present (Miyazaki, 2006). Building on

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extensive scholarly work within anthropology that critiques humanitarian paradigms as

being stuck in time and disjointed from the perceived needs of program “beneficiaries”

(Abramowitz, Marten, & Panter-Brick, 2015; Abramowitz, Panter-Brick, & Piot, 2015;

Beristain, 2008; Brun, 2016; Feldman, 2016), in this research I aimed to understand, from the perspectives of the “beneficiaries” of these humanitarian programs, what they aspire to and how they go about pursuing their aspirations.

What emerged from the realities of the lives of my research participants was that enduring the awful situations that were part of their larger fields was feasible, or in fact made possible, by maintaining hope for longer-term goals and an aspirational map towards achieving them. As discussed over the course of this dissertation, mothers at times had to engage in activities that they were otherwise uncomfortable with because of socio-cultural gendered expectations of what a woman should or should not do (see

Section 5.3.1 Sub-theme 1). Yet, they ubiquitously framed these practices as necessary transgressions in the context of what these actions would allow their kin to achieve in the future. This echoes research by Anderson-Fye (2015) where students engaged in sex work, often times with their educators, as a way to eventually achieve success. Indeed, the way in which Anderson-Fye’s (2015: 110) research participants articulated their practices as “enduring awful experiences for a greater good” paralleled the ways in which my research participants talked about practices that they, as Belle described to me, were

“not proud of.”

Over the course of my research, and observing the strong role that faith as social and cultural capital played in the lives of my research participants, I wondered if this was

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in some way linked with this future-oriented frame of reference that so many of my

research participants held (see Section 5.3.2 Sub-theme 2). As I began to scour the

literature, I stumbled upon a bourgeoning area of research that reflects the role of faith

and religious organizations play in maintaining hope and a forward-looking future

orientation, particularly among immigrants and refugees who are aiming to re-establish themselves and new social networks in their new homes (Bjarnesen, 2016; Bredeloup,

2016; Crapanzano, 2003; Haugen, 2016; Robbins, 2006; Sliwinski, 2016; Turner, 2015;

Vammen, 2016; Yotebieng et al., 2018c). Faith also helped my research participants to see their aspirations as feasible so that they did not lose the cultural capital of hope.

Through my conceptual model that I used to operationalize the capacity to aspire, another central form of social capital that emerged as important were social networks.

This social capital allowed my research participants to jointly work towards shared

visions for the future. While there was certainly divisions and distrust within the broader

Rwandan refugee community, I observed a strong level of social cohesion around certain

community priorities. In particular, related to the Cessation Clause, the Rwandan

community converged their social capital and came together as one social network to

resist this change in humanitarian policy including working with Rwandan refugee

groups from other African countries and writing joint letters to Geneva to itemize the

reasons why this clause was deemed as unjust. Coming together in this way allowed

community members to feel that there was hope that something would change if a critical

mass in the form of their broader social networks pushed up against it. However, while

this collective action was identified through the application of my conceptual model over

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the course of this dissertation, so was the lack of success of their strategies, as the

Cessation Clause, despite their efforts, still came to term in December 2018 when most of

the Rwandan urban refugees I worked with lost their refugee status. This underlines that

this particular form of social capital, while it serves other important purposes, was ineffective in addressing this particular need, and that the UNHCR was not effectively pushed into changing their decision despite the pressure from the Rwandan community.

9.1.4 Broad Finding 4: Leveraging capital

The capacity to aspire framework as operationalized by my conceptual model used in this dissertation emphasizes the need to identify the various forms of capital that household sub-units hold, and how access to (or lack thereof) of different forms of capital support or impede access to key structures that influence refugees’ lives. For example, as noted above the UNHCR was a key structure on the aspirational maps of nearly all of the refugees I engaged with. This meant that the UNHCR was the “go to” agency for nearly all of the issues or ideas that refugees had. In exploring this through the conceptual model

I built for this dissertation, it seems that only having one principal structure that was expected to support refugees achieve a multitude of aspirations, some for which they had no means to support, indicated a problem insofar as that the aspirational maps of refugees were structurally sparse. Furthermore, my research participants underlined that their stories of suffering and painful pasts where the means through which they accessed this key structure. In other words, their suffering was used as a form of social capital, that, if told well, allowed them to access the support they needed from the central structure on their aspirational maps, the UNHCR. Identifying this problem led me to reflect on how

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this could indicate, especially for urban refugees who often live in long-term, protracted

situations and live alongside host communities that may share a lot of their issues, that

there is a need to diversify the number and types of structures urban refugees are

knowledgeable about and can effectively access. Otherwise, the UNHCR would have to be better equipped to deal with and refer refugees to these services for all of the different needs they were confronted with, but given the growing number of displaced persons globally and the shrinking humanitarian budgets, this does not seem like a likely scenario.

The capacity to aspire conceptual model used in this dissertation also helped to reveal the challenges and barriers to women in accessing other forms of capital, particularly economic capital, towards their aspirations. Given Concilie’s seemingly unsafe situation in Yaoundé, Ernestine took on debt that she knew she would not be able to pay back in order to send Concilie to France through a program that they were not entirely sure of. The hope was that, despite the uncertainty of their plan, this would somehow be an opportunity to build a better future. This made incurring this debt, or a deficit in Ernestine’s economic capital, worth it to her. Ernestine did however identify how this deficit economic capital could pay if in the long-run through allowing Concilie to expand her social capital, and achieve her cultural capital of becoming a woman through the possibility of her finding a husband and getting married in France. This marriage would provide social and economic capital in the form of legal papers, and could lead to more economic capital that would allow Concilie to bring her mother to

France, and perhaps eventually pay back the debt incurred. The capacity to aspire

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framework links these actions and forms of capital together, creating a more accurate

story on how these two women engaged in these actions in order to escape what they

considered to be an untenable situation.

Diminishing availability of various forms of capital at the household level was

also linked with the sentiment by many women that they were becoming a burden on

their kin. This was often interlinked with the cutting of social and economic capital

linked with social services by the UNHCR, which had previously served as safety nets to

care for the extremely prevalent chronic health conditions in the community, including

diabetes, hypertension, and HIV. These examples illustrate how when humanitarian agencies cut their households’ safety nets and therefore reduce the household-level access to the social and economic capital they previously depended on, as their situations became increasingly financially challenging mothers and grandmothers would often be the first to sacrifice some of their own needs. These examples also echo the experiences of the many of the worlds marginalized who are forced to make hard decisions when their access to capital is altered through changing social service and safety net policies. In this way, the framework of the capacity to aspire has broad applicability.

Hope in and of itself was also demonstrated to be an important frame of cultural capital through this framework as it was central to coping with the challenges of the present and providing the impetus to think of and act on new strategies towards aspirations. Hope was fueled and bolstered by the social and cultural capital provided by faith and social networks, which also in turn were vital to coping with challenges and

315 necessary transgressions required to pursue the aspirations stemming from my research participants’ hope.

Importantly, as I implemented this project over three years, using the capacity to aspire framework I was able to observe the waxing and waning of hope and the changes towards the capacity to aspire within households over time. As times get tough, the social capital, including social networks that may have otherwise supported women from having to take action to avoid becoming a burden, began to dissipate. For example, Marcelle revealed to me that with the Cessation Clause was making “tearing our community organization apart as some people don’t understand why one person is granted refugee status, and another has it taken away.” As the aspirations of women were often focused on their kin, as times got increasingly challenging, they made sacrifices.

9.2 Implications for applied anthropology

The worlds’ marginalized persons are rarely asked about their hopes for their future in research and programs focused on them. As noted earlier, this is precisely why

Appadurai (2013: 286) calls for a concerted effort to build an anthropology of hope, or an anthropology of the future, with a central focus on hope and its ability to “shape the future as a cultural fact.” However, given that Rwandan urban refugees that participated in my research have been supported by humanitarian agencies in different ways for, at times, nearly 20 years, many of the humanitarian professionals I met in the field over the course of this research asked themselves if they had not missed an opportunity to better support Rwandan refugees at some point, given the often precarious conditions that many were still living in. The capacity to aspire framework, operationalized through the

316 conceptual model that I use in this dissertation (see Figure 1) can be used as a tool in any larger humanitarian, public health, or development project or strategic plan to develop a set of tools for identifying the cultural map of aspirations that surround each specific intervention. The conceptual model used in this dissertation outlines what the key evidence needed to understand these aspirational maps are, and to guide the exploration of the ways in which different components (such as capital and structures) interact and influence each other.

As noted earlier, social suffering and perpetual states of liminality (among other narratives) are the focus of much of the scholarly literature and media coverage focused on refugees (see Section 1.2). Furthermore, much research on refugee women is focused on a specific problem, such as gender-based violence, or maternal and child health (Ager,

2014; Clinton-Davis & Fassil, 1992). But, as Inhorn (2006) underlines in her review of anthropological research on women’s health, there is an absence of literature that focuses on issues that are priorities to the research participants (women) themselves. Much of the research does not even ask women what their priorities are, it assumes them, stripping them of their agency. A recent study conducted by The Social Investment Consultancy

(2018) underlines the ways in which developing and implementing programs based on the points of views and priorities of Western donor agencies, rather than research participants’ priorities, is an important reason why humanitarian and development investment has yielded such weak results. The social Investment Consultancy (2018) suggests that ethnography can be used as a tool over the course of the humanitarian and development program cycle to meaningfully bring project participants voices and

317 perspectives to the fore, and eventually the core, of these programs. While I am not claiming that my findings can be generalized onto all women or refugee communities, I suggest that there are many commonalities between my findings and women living in precarious situations, or at the margins of societies, around the world.

It is evident that anthropologists studying forced migration should not ignore or minimize the immense suffering that is both a root cause and consequence of displacement. However, much research on forced migration portrays refugees and their positions of liminality in a frame of helplessness in the face of the structural, physical, and symbolic violence waged against them (Konydyk, 2018). Konydyk (2018) recently argued that the focus on specific sources of suffering, or problems, in humanitarian paradigms strips persons living in humanitarian situations of their humanity, reducing them to a set of problems. It is critical to understand persons affected by humanitarian situations in a holistic way, including the context they live in, what they hope to achieve, their different barriers and opportunities, and build programs from there. Anthropological contributions offer a nuance to the single story of suffering, in allowing agency, hope, and the dignity and personal stories of refugees to be heard, understood, and taken seriously.

From the onset of my research, I aimed to answer my principal research question:

How do socio-cultural contexts and challenges of systemic disempowerment affect women household members’ capacity to aspire? As demonstrated through chapters 6-8, socio-cultural expectations of women and their subsequent access to various forms of capital that facilitate or impede access to important structures on their aspirational maps

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affect women’s capacity to aspire and the strategies they engage in order to achieve their

aspirations. The main finding of this research is that women are expected in their broader

socio-cultural contexts to make sacrifices in order to ensure their children’s success (see

Section 2.3 on Rwandan cultural context). These sacrifices, as observed over the course of my research, could be potentially harmful to their physical well-being. These same socio-cultural expectations of gender, particularly in women prioritizing their children’s success and well-being as a way to demonstrate that they are good women and mothers, reinforced through their cultural and social capital found in faith and social communities, also provide solace and the ability to cope with uncertain futures. Structural forces including access to social and economic capital were working against many women, as they suggested that their options to make a good living were limited. These findings bear important implications towards identifying limiting structures and deficits in capital, and working with beneficiary populations to devise ways to improve these structures or access to capital so that they change from barriers to opportunities.

As noted earlier in this section, I am not arguing that we should shift our frame of analysis from social suffering completely. The rich body of literature on social suffering serves as an important foundation and justification for an anthropology of hope (Das,

2007; Kleinman et al., 1997). Rather, I claim that we should also understand the ways in which current circumstances and changing policies inform or are at odds with the aspirations of refugees themselves, and the ways in which those aspirations inform strategies in the present. This can be done through the conceptual model of the capacity to aspire I use in this dissertation. This model engages ethnographic methods to

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understand hope and aspirations, and the ways in which strategies to achieve aspirations

are influenced by socio-cultural expectations of different persons (in this case, women

and mothers), their access to various forms of capital, and their ability to leverage that

capital to address key structures that are central to their metaphorical aspirational maps.

As my research demonstrates, the lack of the capacity to aspire is often linked with

constraints to agency because of underlying socio-cultural or political economic contexts.

Understanding the broader aspirational map and the important capital and structures that it is comprised of can allow applied anthropologists to identify opportunities to address

these constraints to agency.

9.2.1 Improving humanitarian programming

I argue that the capacity to aspire framework can be integrated into humanitarian

programming as a way to replace the older theoretical underpinnings that currently guide

humanitarianism, often rooted in flawed neoliberal ideologies where social programs are

seen as services that clients can access when they are simply made available (Ferguson,

2010). These ideologies not only brush aside socio-cultural differences in the desires (or

aspirations) of different persons or populations, neoliberal ideologies also problematically

ignore the broader aspects of unequal access to societal capital and structures linked with

power and the broader political economic contexts. Anthropologists argue that

researchers and humanitarian organizations need to conceptualize issues related to the

well-being of persons affected by humanitarian situations as dynamic interactions

between persons and their contexts. For refugees and asylum seekers some relevant

contextual factors to take into consideration include legal precarity, social deservedness

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(whether or not they are perceived to be rightful recipients of certain societal goods or

resources), health vulnerability, and strategies by which health and other interlinked

social issues that affect health are overcome (Castañeda, 2009; Willen, 2012; Willen,

Mulligan, & Castañeda, 2011). Yet, humanitarian programs rarely address these

dynamics. Eggerman and Panter-Brick (2010) further underline that the sources of hope should be understood and leveraged rather than undermined, as they often inadvertently are, in humanitarian programming. In other words, the voices, perspectives, and priorities of “program beneficiaries” should guide the development, implementation, and evaluation of humanitarian programs (The Social Investment Consultancy, 2018). But the question remains, how exactly can this be done? I offer some suggestions below.

In a recent book reflecting on the important role that ethnographic research brings to bear on humanitarian and development policy, Cernea and Maldonado (2018: 12) assert:

The first step is for social analysis to delve beneath the ethnographic surface to

identify and conceptualize theoretically the processes happening on the ground

and their actual impacts on people, positive or negative, in order to address these

impacts in an organized way as development planners and implementers. This

asks for pre-existing field investigations and social analysis.

It was validating to read this, two weeks after returning from my dissertation research and

while trying to figure out exactly how I was going to bring all of my data together and

influence humanitarian policy.

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However, Faas (2016) astutely underlines that anthropologists to date have been wary of engaging in policy discussions outside of our comfort zones of academic journals and conferences, although there are notable exceptions (Checker & Fishman, 2004).

Corroborating Faas (2016), I argue that it is critical that we find ways in which we can bring the voices of those affected by forced migration and other humanitarian situations around the world to the forefront. When I decided to return to school after over a decade of working in the humanitarian and development fields, this is what I intended to do. This is why I chose to return to anthropology rather than public health for my Ph.D., although

I went into my program with every intention of applying my anthropological skills to humanitarian and public health programs once I was done. I felt that our efforts as humanitarians had been well-intentioned, but often were implemented with little consideration of local contexts and perspectives of those we were hoping to support. The capacity to aspire framework is a powerful tool that can be used to bring these voices and lived experiences to the forefront while pinpointing the areas on their aspirational maps that can be best supported by humanitarian programming.

One area that I observed over the course of this research where it appeared that refugees’ hopes and aspirations for the futures were directly undermined by changing humanitarian policy was the implementation of the Cessation Clause. Rwandan refugees were perplexed as to how something as drastic as ending their right to remain refugees could occur without any input or discussion with them, or at least the leaders from their refugee communities across Africa. Furthermore, they underlined that as the majority of

Rwandans in the world who still hold refugee status are Hutu, the implementation of the

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Cessation Clause demonstrated that the humanitarian community was in a sense taking

sides, and in this case, not their side. They had explicitly explained through their

harrowing stories which they lamented they were forced to repeat constantly, that they

had fled crimes committed by the Rwandan Patriotic Front, or the political party that was

now running the country. They felt they were being unfairly pushed back towards a

government and country which they deeply distrusted. Even if they did not physically go

back, even taking a residence permit in their countries of residence (i.e. Cameroon)

would mean that the Rwandan government was now responsible for their safety, security,

and ability to travel outside the country as that would now require a Rwandan passport

rather than a refugee travel document. In a sense, it almost felt as if the humanitarian

community had succumbed to the global trend towards xenophobia and pushing people

away. Or at least, this was the perception of the Rwandan Hutu refugees that were losing

their refugee status. The application of the capacity to aspire framework and the

understanding of how the repercussions of the Cessation Clause affect the aspirational

maps of Rwandan refugee women could have been used as powerful evidence against the

implementation of the Cessation Clause, at least in the format it was implemented. If the

refugee status was going to come to an end inevitably, it could have identified the areas

in which the subsequent legal precarity may lead to strained access to important

structures and sources of capital, and how these could be replaced or supplemented

through other agencies. As it stands, many of the refugees focused on the UNHCR as the structure that was central to their aspirational maps, and a source of various types of support. With no further access to this agency, many do not know where to turn for their

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various problems as they arise, including security concerns or issues related to gender- based violence.

In the long-run, I intend to apply my skills as an applied anthropologist to research focused on building improved policies to address health disparities globally. In the humanitarian sector and in public health, the idea of building “resilience” of communities as a way to improve health and other social outcomes is increasingly a priority. The aim of these programs is to mitigate and reduce the disparities that place some communities at higher risk of adverse outcomes. Yet, many of these programs are arguably “culture-less,” devised in ways that examine a host of variables without thinking about some of the socio-cultural and emotional aspects of resilience building, including the aspirations from the perspectives of research participants. Anthropological perspectives are crucial to building policies that respect the culture and dignity of populations they aim to serve, leading to less patronizing and higher impact programs. In other words, anthropological perspectives applied to humanitarian focused public health research and policy development ensure that “program beneficiaries” become central stakeholders rather than passive recipients of services that they may not understand or agree with. Their stories, lived realities, and desired futures can become foundational to policies that will affect their lives.

I argue that we should also be actively engaging, via advocacy and activism, with the larger humanitarian and political structures that refugees are dependent on in order to ensure that they do not impede hope. Furthermore, the capacity to aspire framework can help humanitarian professionals better understand why project participants do not

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“comply” with their program requirements, or how ignoring the aspirations of project

participants may inadvertently cause harm by impeding access to capital that increases

austerity and the need to make sacrifices at the household level.

I plan to use the capacity to aspire framework to identify some of the strategies

and health behaviors linked with achieving aspirations, the factors that influence the

choice of engaging in these behaviors including access to important sources of capital or

key structures, and work with communities to identify and test promising practices that can support the achievement of these aspirations and mitigate potential harm. In this way

I posit that we can better support urban refugees in a way that does not undermine their hopes and aspirations, and in ways in which one household member does not necessarily have to sacrifice their well-being in order to achieve these aspirations. In this way, the

“resilience” of their communities can be built on their own terms.

The applied implications of focusing on the future are enormous. They also are essential to ensuring the continued relevance of anthropology (Appadurai, 2004, 2013).

In a case study on urban slums, Appadurai (2013) documents the impact of working with a non-profit supporting slum dwellers around the world to imagine different lives, different futures, and actively engage with policy makers, larger non-profits, and industry, to demand these changes rather than passively wait for services. He describes how this approach is radically different from one where outsiders define what slum- dwellers need, and provide services to slum-dwelling households based on these criteria.

The current approach essentially strips slum-dwellers of the ability to articulate their own needs, or assumes that outsiders know better. In discussing poverty, refugees, and

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displaced persons around the world, social science research typically documents the

problem in great depth. However, the problem is often documented as if that is just the

way it is, always has been, and always will be (Appadurai, 2013). The capacity to aspire

framework and its concerted focus on the future can radically change this frame of

reference. The capacity to aspire framework underlines the broader implications of this

housing crisis in these slums by demonstrating how this problem also results in the loss

of social and cultural capital in not being able to host co-workers, friends, family, or

being adequately connected to social networks that would allow for upward mobility.

In this way, a future orientation allows for advocacy focusing on the cascade effect of this

housing crisis, pushing changes to be made, and precedents to be set that set a wave of actions in motion to effectively change not only the housing, but the broader living

conditions of these slum dwellers (Appadurai, 2013). Appadurai (2013) underlines that

the strained capacity to aspire among many of the worlds marginalized is caused in part

because communities living at the margins or in poverty are not accustomed to being

asked about the future by service providers, policy makers, or even researchers.

The capacity to aspire framework applied in this context underlines the specific

ways in which marginalized populations do not have the same access to cultural and

economic capital to achieve their desired futures. A focus on the future in research and

subsequent policy can set a wave of practices in motion, as has been documented in other

similar projects where marginalized populations were asked about what they want for the

future, how they would get there, and encouraged to move towards these cultural visions

of the future (Feldman, 2016).

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Yet, despite this potential, anthropologists have often shied away from ethnographies of the future, instead aiming to ground ethnography in the tangible present that can be observed (Wallman, 1992). However, Wallman (1992) argues that understanding future scenarios is invaluable in understanding actions in the present. She argues, in fact, that hope, among other emotions such as dread, is ultimately directly linked with a future orientation (Wallman, 1992; Westman, 2013). Literature on an anthropology of the future underlines that these desired futures cannot be grounded in the light of feasibility, as feasibility ultimately depends on socially and culturally constructed facts and understandings of realities (Gell, 1992). Fischer (2009: 50) further argues for an anthropology of “public futures” in which the desired futures and the feasible outcomes of different actions are taken into consideration together in order to ensure more just social and public policy development.

9.2.2 Lessons learned for public health

The capacity to aspire framework can also be used in understanding health behavior, particularly in the area of research in public health focused on “risk.” The capacity to aspire framework as operationalized by the conceptual model I use in this dissertation frames strategies engaged in realistic ways, linking them with the broader aspirational maps that agents are working within, and underlining how many of the key strategies in health behavior such as broadly educating persons as to why they should not engage in certain behaviors, fail.

Understanding behaviors perceived from a public health or humanitarian perspective as “risky” from the perspective of the broader aspirational map of those

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engaging in these behaviors bears enormous potential in the area of applied anthropology.

Roche et al. (2005) and Syvertsen et al. (2014) demonstrate in their work the powerful

ways in engaging the stories of sex workers and persons who inject drugs can allow

public health professionals to better understand why they take certain “risks.” In

understanding the rationale and justification for these “risks,” public health practice can

aim to influence policy that better supports women in the deficit areas of their lives that

may lead them to engage in these “risks,” often times associated with strained access to

capital or structures that allow them to provide adequately for their kin (Roche et al.,

2005; Syvertsen et al., 2014). Studying health behavior through a capacity to aspire

framework can help applied anthropologists better understand what may push people to

engage in behaviors that have been correlated with harm or poor health outcomes, and

devise strategies to mitigate or reduce the potential harm that may result from these

strategies. Once we are speaking the same language about “risk behavior,” we can engage communities in ways that they feel potential physical or emotional harm of specific strategies to members of their communities can be mitigated.

Many of the strategies observed over the course of my research could inevitably lead to poorer health and well-being of women household members. Engaging in sex work in a context where it is illegal and sex workers are not protected can expose women to violence, unwanted pregnancies, and sexually transmitted infections (Roche et al.,

2005). Clandestine travel is accompanied by a host of perils as undocumented persons often fall under the radar of the protection by local authorities from various forms of violence and exploitation. Furthermore, any of these activities could mean coming into

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contact with security forces who many take advantage of the vulnerable position of the

victim, rather than trying to support the victim (Willen et al., 2011). Finally, non-

compliance with chronic disease regimens can create resistant forms of the illnesses that

persons are suffering from, and lead to a host of adverse health outcomes from

uncontrolled disease progression (Dookeran et al., 2010; Yun et al., 2012). From an

applied perspective it is important to recognize this, and think through the ways in which

researchers can use this knowledge to support better health outcomes.

The implications of an ethnographic approach are powerful to understanding

health behavior. In my dissertation research, my research participants would not often tell

me about some of the strategies that were socially unacceptable or could lead to poor

health outcomes that they would take in order to achieve their aspirations in our first

sitting. If I had simply been implementing a survey or a questionnaire, I would have not

gotten this information or been able to understand the links between health behavior and

the broader aspirational maps of my research participants. Indeed, these strategies were

something that I saw over time, or learned about in the context of our deeper

conversations as we spent more and more time together. Trust was crucial to getting to

the root of what my research participants usually referred to as transgressions. Indeed,

understanding why some strategies are taken and what takes precedence in terms of the

aspirations of persons as agents is critical to ensuring that public health programs will be successful, and not just result in “non-compliance” if the persons these programs aim to serve do not see the value in engaging in the intended behavior change (Grimen, 2009).

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Using a capacity to aspire framework puts agency, defined as the practices of

resistance that persons engage within their unequal contexts (Ortner, 2016), front and

center. No one knows better how to survive adverse circumstances, including poverty and

xenophobia, better than those who are living through it (Appadurai, 2013; Ortner, 2016).

Their actions and agency needs to be understood from their point of view while analyzing

the context in which these practices take place. As Bulhan (2015) poignantly underlines

in his research on neocolonialism in Africa, it is time for more bottom-up approaches, rather than the top-down strategies of international agencies which may serve to further

disempower and hamper the capacity to aspire of the worlds marginalized. Furthermore,

these top-down approaches have been largely unsuccessful to date, despite the enormous

resources poured into them (The Social Investment Consultancy, 2018). A large meta-

analyses on focused psychosocial interventions in humanitarian contexts also underlines

the importance of maintaining hope for the overall health and well-being of displaced

persons (Purgato et al., 2018). But it is imperative that this hope is understood from the aspirations and corresponding practices and agency of populations who are affected by the particular problem being studied (Purgato et al., 2018).

The capacity to aspire framework allows public health professionals to understand

how individuals living at the world’s margins think past their immediate hardship,

develop aspirations for their future, and take action to achieve these goals. Through their

stories and experiences, we can identify the seeds of promising and achievable means

through which we can support “risk-reduction programs” (Oliver-Smith, 2016; Roche et al., 2005). On the other hand, we can learn from their experiences and aspirational maps

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about what policy changes, programs, or activities may have inadvertently forced persons

to engage in practices that they otherwise would have preferred to avoid (Moore, 1993;

Roche et al., 2005). Lastly, understanding health behavior from this perspective can allow

for messages to reduce these practices to be devised, acknowledging the reasons for these

practices, and using culturally appropriate language and alternatives to these practices

(Roche et al., 2005). This also means identifying the policies and programs which may

inadvertently undermine the well-being of household members, particularly women.

9.3 Broader contributions

One example of the absence of hope in humanitarian action that I heard regularly

from my research participants was the way in which many refugees that I spent time with

emphasized that they were discouraged from seeking support from the humanitarian

community. They suggested that the humanitarian industry, rather than asking refugees

about what they wanted in the future, would instead always push refugees to retell the

stories of their past, and in a way, relive their trauma. They stressed how humanitarian agencies rarely tried to understand their aspirations, priorities, and the ways in which humanitarian assistance could bolster, or undermine these aspirations. This was not unique to Rwandan refugees who were facing the looming threat of legal precarity during

my fieldwork, but also reiterated by Central African, Chadian, and Congolese refugees

that I engaged with towards the beginning of my research.

For Rwandans, however, the Cessation Clause was a central obstacle on their

aspirational maps. On several occasions, they explicitly pointed out the Cessation Clause

as a perfect example of the top-down approaches of the humanitarian industry that did not

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even attempt to understand the priorities, ambitions, or concerns of the people their programs aimed to serve. Importantly, when humanitarian programs inadvertently undermined these aspirations, refugees did not change their aspirations. Because of this

disconnect between their desires and the programs offered, many expressed to me that

they limited their contact with humanitarian agencies who “did nothing” for them.

However, the UNHCR was also a very central structure on the aspirational maps of

refugees over many years, so disengaging with them meant a potential loss of support in

their quest to identify other structures that could support them better. Instead, certain

household members would make sacrifices that could be potentially deleterious to their

health or well-being. As noted throughout this dissertation, these sacrifices often followed gendered patterns.

By focusing squarely on violence and suffering in research on forced migration, both humanitarian paradigms and the scholarship on refugees do not afford displaced

persons the possibility to imagine and work towards a future (Brun, 2016). Research on forced migration regularly focuses on the effects of past or current violence, or how refugees cope with ongoing physical and structural violence in their lives. Yet, since

2003 when I began working in the humanitarian sector as a public health professional, I saw and heard themes of hope from refugees recur in my work across Cameroon and other countries in the Central African region. This was true even among displaced persons who had fled some of the world’s cruelest conflicts, including the Central

African Republic, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and Rwanda. Yet, humanitarian

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agencies underline problems and suffering in a way that some have argued ultimately

dehumanizes refugees and displaced persons (Konyndyk, 2018).

Furthermore, humanitarian programs implement boilerplate frameworks addressing the perceived immediate needs or priorities of refugees from the humanitarian staff’s point of view (and often even further removed: from the humanitarian staff at home offices or their donor agencies’ points of view) without taking into consideration their imagined futures or desires or their particular local socio-cultural contexts (Brun,

2016). This is where the theoretical underpinnings of humanitarian frameworks are most insufficient. When I started my Ph.D. program, I wondered why we had to spend so much time reflecting on theory. Yet, over the course of my reading, fieldwork, and analysis the importance of explicitly recognizing and articulating theory in applied work became unquestionably clear. If we do not recognize the assumptions or theory guiding our programs, we will also fail to acknowledge where those assumptions fall short.

Understanding these hopes can also help us to understand the different structures or forces working against achieving them, and the ways in which displaced persons may exert their agency and push against them (Ortner, 2006). In ignoring these aspirations in humanitarian programs and policies, we neglect the fact that people living in protracted humanitarian situations have hopes, and ignoring them may come at high costs.

Focusing on “the suffering refugee” keeps scholars and activists stuck in the past.

It obscures our ability to recognize the collective strengths of refugee communities and how these strengths allow displaced persons to reimagine or reorganize their lives in displacement (Brun, 2016). Hope, as I articulate in Section 3.2, is a form of capital that

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we should not dispossess anyone of. As a form of capital, hope and a future orientation is one of many sources of strength and a catalyst for various actions undertaken by refugees.

This is where anthropology, and specifically the use of the capacity to aspire framework, can play an important role. The wisdom and local perspectives that anthropologists bring through our findings can inform better, more culturally appropriate, and frankly more successful policies. Anthropologists can ensure that these policies work towards building futures that reflect the aspirational maps and are desired by those they aim to serve, increasing local ownership, buy-in, and potential to succeed. When these aspirations and the broader contexts that support or impede the capacity to aspire are not taken into consideration by humanitarian agencies, programs can create a vicious cycle where the capacity to aspire is further diminished with each short-term intervention.

In my research, despite their violent pasts refugees themselves did not focus on violence in their narratives the same way much of the research and media does. Their past experiences with violence are not what defines them, it is their imagined futures, free of violence where they have been able to carve a place out for themselves in their communities. This was central to their aspirations.

Yet, at the beginning of my research I was also guilty of focusing on violence and suffering in my questions and observations. My early literature reviews and intention was to focus on resilience in the context of this ubiquitous violence and suffering. Yet, on multiple occasions in the field I had to check the tendency to focus only on the extreme violence in my research participants’ narratives, and ask myself if there was something

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more there that I was not paying attention to when my frame of analysis remained too

narrowly focused on social suffering. However, I was lucky that early on my research

participants often shifted the narrative for me. As I was asking questions about suffering

and violence and how it was overcome, they instead focused their responses on their

aspirations, only using narratives of violence as a way to juxtapose the past with idealized futures.

As applied anthropologists, using the capacity to aspire framework allows us to provide crucial evidence to service providing agencies to best understand how refugees’ hope can be bolstered and supported, and not undermined or constantly manipulated (as would be the case if the UNHCR staff kept promising resettlement even if it was likely never to happen). Panter-Brick (2010) posits that, given the scale of humanitarian activity to respond to disasters globally, we need to understand what interventions can best

“efface the scars of violence” (5). Potential answers likely lie within the hope inspired practices of the people humanitarian programs aim to serve.

9.3.1 Dissemination

From the first day of my doctoral program, I made it clear to my classmates, advisors, and former colleagues that I was engaging in this endeavor with the goal of returning to humanitarian and public health practice and engaging in ethnographic research to continue to improve these programs. The programs I worked on in the past were often not adequately tailored to their contexts, and rarely used evidence or wisdom from the communities we aimed to serve as a foundation for the subsequent interventions.

I am not alone in my observations of this, but little has been done to address this reality

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(The Social Investment Consultancy, 2018). For this reason, I aimed to disseminate my

research in digestible formats to a broader, non-specialist, audience as a way to articulate

the value of anthropological evidence to building humanitarian and public health

programs, to better understand the lived realities of refugees and the significant variation

in experiences so as to avoid reification, and to provide impetus towards shifting the

frame of reference in humanitarian programs to the present, to a more forward-thinking

quasi-development approach. This latter point is something that anthropologists have

increasingly voiced a need for, particularly as the reality of many of the world’s disasters

is that they are often predictable, preventable, and when they occur, protracted (Faas,

2016; Oliver-Smith, 2016).

Given the scale of humanitarian activity to respond to disasters globally,

researchers and humanitarians need to understand which interventions can best respond

to the diverse needs of those most affected (Panter-Brick, 2010: 5). The answers on how

to do this likely lie within the existing practices of these populations. Yet, it is important

to acknowledge that these existing practices may also have deleterious effects on some

household or community members. These practices are nuanced as they often benefit one

person while potentially harming another, but it is important to understand them in their

context to build culturally appropriate humanitarian programs that “Do No Harm.” This

dissertation contributes to a body of knowledge that builds an understanding of the contexts and situations of households seeking refuge and asylum, a growing, but often hidden population in growing metropolises across the developing world.

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In order to ensure that my results will have a broad impact in establishing evidence that can be used by implementing agencies in Cameroon and serve as a model for similar research at other sites, I engaged directly with different stakeholders in various fora and will continue to do so. I met with all of the implementing agencies providing services to urban refugees while I was in Cameroon, and they invited me to present my ongoing findings during their staff meetings. This included engaging UNHCR staff in a conversation related to leveraging urban refugees and the importance of hope in their programming. I also led a roundtable discussion at the American Cultural Center as a way to share my findings with the Cameroonian civil society and other U.S. based agencies working with refugees in Cameroon. This presentation was conducted in collaboration with two research participants who were interested in sharing their experience, and included quotes and excerpts from my field work and stories of hope, as a way to reframe refugees from suffering subjects to active agents. As part of my outreach in the context of my Fulbright, I skyped with a Kindergarten classroom, showed them around part of my field site, and allowed them to engage and ask questions of some of my research participants who accepted to do so and were fluent in English. Finally, I was invited on a local television network with several of my refugee counterparts for an hour long panel presentation on refugees in Cameroon, and the ways in which they have integrated and contribute to the country’s vibrant civil society over time.

The aim of these public presentations was to provide the broader community with a story of refugees that goes beyond vulnerabilities, and to engage humanitarians in reflections on the implications of taking a more forward thinking frame of analysis, and

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the unintended gendered consequences of changing humanitarian policy. I also developed

six peer reviewed articles, five which have been published and one which is currently under review, and an article for the widely read Olive Branch blog curated by the United

States Institute of Peace, and presented my findings at the Society for Applied

Anthropology’s 2018 annual meeting and the United States Institute of Peace’s 2017

Annual Peace Conference. Finally, I wrote a column for the Society for

Urban/Transnational Anthropology’s column on Anthropology News and the Gender

Based Violence Topical Interest Group’s column in the Society for Applied

Anthropology’s newsletter.

Lastly, in an effort to reach a broader, non-academic, audience, I published my

dissertation in a reader friendly format geared towards a non-specialist audience. In this book, I underline the importance of thinking beyond the suffering camp dweller when the word refugee comes to mind. Through vignettes that are included in several of the case studies in this dissertation, I expose a broader audience to the nuances of the refugee identity, agency and entrepreneurship, as well as hope and aspirations for the future, rather than helpless victims waiting for someone to save them. This book was published by Austin-Macauley Publishers based in London. It was released October 31, 2018, and I am continuing to visit schools, libraries, and bookstores across the United States to promote the book and discuss its lessons.

9.4 Study limitations

The small sample size and ethnographic design of this dissertation limits the generalizability of my findings. However, as a strength, ethnographic approaches can

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inform the greater research and humanitarian community about the experiences and needs

of urban refugees, including potential barriers and solutions in resource constrained

settings. Ethnographic approaches are critical when applied to the humanitarian sector, as

ethnography reframes the gaps and objectives to those of persons affected by

humanitarian situations, rather than checklists of outsider perceived needs developed and

applied across many contexts. This is especially important as “resilience building

programs” are increasingly being developed to aid refugees. However, resources across

the humanitarian sector are increasingly limited, as is an understanding of why some

programs have worked well for some groups and not others across different contexts. I argue that failing to understand these contexts will lead to the development of programs that are destined to fail, and further undermine the dignity and agency of displaced persons. This research enabled me to uncover a wide range of experiences within a group that is often lumped together into one “urban refugee” category, and the critical need to explore the particularities of a specific group, rather than comparing them against each other in a way that assumes all “urban” or “camp-based” refugees are alike the way that other research has done (Crea et al., 2015). While introducing culture and aspects of “the

particular” can complicate the generalizations made from broader public health research

like Crea et al.’s (2015), it arguably can better inform policy makers and public health

practitioners about the particular challenges and potential feasible solutions within their

contexts, something that is crucial to understand in any public health intervention as any

“behavior change” occurs within and is contingent on the opportunities and constraints within a socio-cultural context.

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Furthermore, I acknowledge that my sample was heavily focused on the

experiences of women from low-income households. The reasons for this were multifold, as discussed earlier (see Methods Section 4.1.4). Overall, I sought to understand women’s experiences and examine their aspirational maps in depth after themes of women making sacrifices that I decided to follow-up on using an IRA approach (Agar, 2006).

Furthermore, my identity as a married woman limited my access to many men in the community who did not always open up readily to me. Sensing this discomfort, as well as the discomfort from their partners or wives, I did not want to insist, and many of my interactions with men in households occurred while their wives or daughters were present. Furthermore, while most of the Rwandan urban refugee community lived in lower socio-economic conditions, there was a small group that was referred to by other refugees in their words as the “elite businessmen.” These businessmen were often the heads of their households and married to either Cameroonian women, or non-refugee

Rwandan women who they had paid to bring to Cameroon. Others were not living with their wives, who were resettled elsewhere. While I tried to engage this group of “elite businessmen” in the beginning, I sensed enormous polite reticence from them. They did not want to share much about themselves, and often times would give me false rendezvous, calling me to tell me they would not be able to make it because something came-up. While I cannot claim that the experiences of my research participants therefore represents all Rwandans in Cameroon, I argue however that the situations of the “elite

businessmen” were outliers. The situations and strong themes that emerged from my

research are arguably reflective of the majority of the Rwandan urban refugees in

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Yaoundé who were working in the informal sector, and heavily women-headed households.

9.5 Future research

In addition to providing insight into how people reorganize their lives to endure social suffering and forced migration, research on urban refugees can contribute to scholarship which aims to shed light on the full range of refugee situations (Landau 2014;

Kleinman, Das & Lock 1997). This is increasingly important if we are to understand how cities in the developing world have long been, and continue to be, hosts of the largest proportion of displaced persons in the world (Landau, 2014; Prasad, et. al 2015).

Resilience is a dynamic concept that has been increasingly applied to urban studies and humanitarian frameworks, including those related to forced migration (Béné, et al. 2014; Ungar 2013, 2012; Eggerman & Panter-Brick 2010). As noted in Section 4.1,

I initially wanted to focus on resilience in my research, but stepped back to focus on hope and dignity, important missing components from resilience frameworks. I recommend that researchers and humanitarian workers should step back and turn towards the communities that these programs aim to serve. The humanitarian community can start by asking these communities what their ambitions are and what a resilient community looks like for them, and work to build these desired futures together (Panter-Brick 2015, 2014,

2010; Ungar 2013; Yotebieng et al., 2018a, b).

Ethnographic methods can uncover stressors that had not previously been on the humanitarian radar, but could jeopardize the success of ongoing programs (Béné, et al.

2014; Ungar 2013). Furthermore, an ethnographic approach towards understanding

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desired futures addresses the protracted reality of many of the world’s humanitarian

situations and underlines that the short-term nature of humanitarian intervention is

destined to fail in these contexts that require longer-term thinking. This is also a first step

in adequately building flexibility into resilience building initiatives so that they build on,

rather than undermine, community strengths (Yotebieng et al., 2018a, b). Ethnography

allows us to start by observing and listening, and putting the needs and desires of our

research participants first; chronic health issues, legal precarity, and questions about the

subjectivity of being part of where they live, where they want to go, and what their

dreams are, for example. Further applied research can test strategies that are built from the local context up, and prioritize the aspirations and understanding the desired futures of refugees as building blocks for interventions. Following this research, I aim to identify some promising strategies within the Rwandan urban refugee community and other

immigrant populations in the United States, and test the ways in which these strategies

lead to different health outcomes, particularly in reducing stress through a collaborative

effort with public health and medical researchers. I also aim to identify the ways in which

access to different forms of capital can be leveraged and bolstered through public health

programs after understanding the lives of research participants through an exploration of

their aspirational maps.

Part of my future applied work will include identifying and reducing barriers to

refugees’ navigational capacity on their navigational maps and increasing access to key

structures that can support refugees’ capacity to aspire. Further research can examine the

operationalization of the capacity to aspire conceptual model in humanitarian program

342 design and the corresponding effects on refugees’ psycho-social well-being. I hypothesize that centering refugees’ aspirations and understanding the specific barriers to achieving them, and bolstering their capital to access key structures that bolster their capacity to aspire as a promising and more dignified approach to addressing protracted humanitarian needs like those of urban refugees.

One area that may lead to promising strategies is the way to leverage and build on social capital, particularly social networks, in service development and provision. I hypothesize and intend to test if gendered disparities in well-being and practices, particularly those that may result in potential physical or psychological harm to the person engaging them, are particularly amplified in cases where household members were not connected to key persons within the refugee, host, and humanitarian communities, like Jean Bosco’s grandmother mentioned earlier (see Chapter 7

Discussion). Building on this research, exploring outcomes and different strategies engaged (including those labeled by the public health community as “risky”) in the context of links to social networks is a promising area that merits further research. These links, and the ways in which they interact with actions and the need to take (or not take) different actions should be further explored with explicit attention to gender.

Furthermore, access to these networks and access to capital, likely interlinked with gender, could lead to promising insight onto what structures best support urban refugee women.

There are other important factors that my data indicate should be taken into consideration in future research on health and well-being among refugees and displaced

343 persons. Issues of legal documentation or “refugee papers” as a factor that may affect chronic health issues merits further exploration, both in terms of the effect of legal precarity on perceived ability to achieve well-being, and strategies in coping with it.

Further research can also explore not only the concept of resilience and shocks, but strategies by which they are overcome. This may include the role that faith communities play in household and community level resilience through the promotion of hope. Lastly, the ways in which hope can be understood and promoted, rather than undermined, should be conducted as baselines for any humanitarian intervention. Anthropologists can play a critical role in highlighting the opportunities to shift programs towards activities that bolster hope and propose potential strategies to address refugees’ desired futures. Hope cannot just be given from the outside. My research demonstrates that it is linked with successful precedents, which means identifying ways in which refugees can effectively be supported in achieving their aspirations through focused capital support and the removal of key barriers on their aspirational maps. This is critical, as otherwise, how are cities, humanitarian communities, public health practitioners, and others who have rallied around resilience building supposed to build community resilience, when as of now, it is something we barely understand? I plan on continuing to demonstrate this to policy makers, and assist in revising existing policy to take a more particular, contextualized, and culturally appropriate approach to humanitarian and public health issues focused on reducing disparities in health and well-being among the worlds marginalized.

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9.6 Concluding thoughts

At the World Refugee Day events held at Yaoundé’s local refugee collective on

June 20, 2018, Chantal, a Rwandan woman, stood up and addressed the crowd of urban refugees from several countries and humanitarian professionals. I had been sitting next to her during the first 15 minutes of the speeches that the UNHCR officials were giving where they were listing all of the services offered and their accomplishments of the past year. The humanitarian professionals, in their speeches, also mentioned the “resilience” of refugees seven times in 10 minutes, and appeared to be taking credit for supporting this “resilience” in some way although it was not clear exactly how. I watched Chantal shaking her head in frustration, whispering to me, “they are lying,” over and over.

Finally, she leaned over to a Central African woman standing next to her and said, “they want us to bend over and constantly play the role that they expect of us as refugees, the crying, suffering refugee.” The Central African woman encouraged her to stand up and say something, so she did, raising her hand, taking the microphone, and turning to the crowd as tears started to well up in her eyes:

But, I want to ask, as you stand up there with all of your speeches telling us what

you offer to us, do we have to dress a certain way, or be emaciated, or crying

when we come to the office, in order to be seen as refugees deserving of your

attention ? Let me tell you, for us Rwandans, we take pride in trying to be nicely

dressed, at least clean, even if we have nothing. But it’s true, when we arrive at

your office with nice clothes, we are ignored, even sometimes told, ‘look at your

clothes, you are doing better than that person over there.’ Why do you insist that

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we give up our dignity and come with torn clothes and tears rolling down our

faces in order to be deserving of your attention? Or to be considered a real

refugee?

Chantal was pointing out an important reality. While the “resilience” and

“strength” of refugees was applauded, the humanitarian agencies in Cameroon were also

being overwhelmed by increasing numbers of refugees and dwindling budgets.

Humanitarian agencies explained that they needed to make hard choices in deciding where to focus their resources. They further underlined that their priorities were often focused on camp-based refugees and those in urban areas that were “extremely vulnerable.” Chantal whispered to me that they misunderstood her question, she was not asking for services, but for respect, particularly in being treated as a “legitimate refugee” and not having her status refused, or in asking refugees what they wanted rather than assuming and providing materials that they often turned around to sell at the market in hopes that they could purchase something they actually needed. I saw this as a mismatch between the refugees’ that I was working with and their focus on the future, and the humanitarian focus on the challenges of the past and present. Through the application of the capacity to aspire framework, these two perspectives can be effectively merged, creating more grounded humanitarian programs that take into account the realities and ensure the dignity of the people these programs aim to serve.

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Appendix A: Semi-structured interview form (English)

READ [does not need to be recorded]:

READ RECRUITMENT SCRIPT TO CONFIRM ELIGIBILITY

READ AND RECORD VERBAL CONSENT

This is an in-depth interview that I am conducting to try and learn more from you

about your experiences as an urban refugee in Yaoundé, your hopes and plans, social

integration, and how you manage key stressors including legal and international

protection issues, among refugees from Rwanda in Yaoundé. Do you have any

questions before we begin?

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[Begin recording.] I’d like to start off by asking a few questions about yourself and how you came to Yaoundé. Do you have any questions before we begin?

1. (ask this one only if met the person before) First, I would like to know how you have been since we last met. Has anything changed in your life since then? • Probe about any specific questions that were memoed from participant observation with individual • Probe on updates of legal status if that was concern in previous encounter • Probe on chronic conditions: any recent health issues • Probe on living conditions

2. Can you tell me a bit more about your life in Yaoundé? • When moved here? • Been to other countries between now and then? • Likes/dislikes?

3. (if didn’t mention it already) Can you tell me a bit about your family? • Children? Spouse/partner? • Who are considered as part of the “household” • Connections in other countries? • Probe: gendered make-up of household

4. (if didn’t mention it already) Are you currently a registered refugee? • If yes: probe any issues with that? Afraid of losing it? Everyone in family? • If no: what status has if doesn’t mind asking? Does anyone in family have it? i. What challenges come along with this related to health? • Probe: if may lose it or doesn’t have it: what will they do next, what are the conditions that would be acceptable for them to return home?

5. What is a typical day like for you? In other words, what kinds of things do you usually do each day?

6. What part of your daily life do you enjoy most? What part of your daily life do you enjoy least? 363

7. My research is on hope, and I am specifically looking at how urban refugees are able to manage constant stressors like legal issues and the role that hope and plans for the future play. What would you say are your hopes for the future? • Is this similar across your community? • How does this change depending on age/etc.? • Is it different by gender? • How does one achieve this?

Now I’d like to ask you some more specific questions about your family.

8. Can you tell me a bit about the health of you and your family members? What problems are you struggling with? • Probe: have there been any serious issues in the past few years?

9. How do you manage the different issues you are dealing with? • Probe depending on specific conditions that are mentioned • Does UNHCR provide support? Others? • Family support? • Jobs: if so, what do they do and how do they find work to cover the costs?

10. Can you tell me about any support that is available to deal with your problems? • If health related: traditional medicine? • Does anyone you know have a similar issue they deal with in a different way? • Tell me about how they access that? From Cameroon or Rwanda? • If not – why not?

11. What are the main barriers to dealing with your problems? • Probe: costs? • How are you treated by immigration officials, healthcare, or other service providers? • Other stressors or environmental considerations that exacerbate them?

364

12. Can you tell me about times when you, or when a community member or family member that you know, had to cut something important out of their lives? For example, perhaps s/he couldn’t take medicines as prescribed? • Probe: reasons? • How often? • What helps to avoid this? • Ascertain-how important is it?

13. What are other sources of stress in your life? • Legal status? i. If legal status: how managing it? What see as future prospects?

14. How do you manage stress in your life? • Explain what causes stress, dig deeper? o What do you do to address stress? • Who helps you with your problems? How do they do this?

Finally, I’d like to ask you a little bit more about the future and your community. .

15. What would you say are the most serious obstacles towards planning for the future or meeting goals and aspirations of your community? • Meeting different community members? • Meeting refugee collective? • Any specific agencies that need to be registered with? • Is it different for different genders/age/other?

16. Can you tell me about a community, family, or individual (you don’t need to cite who specifically) that has largely been successful in managing similar problems? • How do you think they have been able to do this? • What are the key elements that allow them to be successful? (Gender/age/other?)

17. Similarly, can you tell me about a community, family, or individual that you have seen that seems more successful, and how do you think they have been able to achieve this?

365

18. What opportunities do you see to better support urban refugees or other individuals managing the principal issues you face in Yaoundé? • What kind of support to address main issues?

19. What are your biggest dreams and aspirations for your life? • And that of children?

20. If you lost your refugee status, what would you do? • Under what conditions would you feel comfortable returning to your home country?

21. Is there anything else that you would like to share, or that you feel would be important for us to know?

To end the interview, I’d like to collect some standard socio-demographic data. [This part

does not have to be recorded and/or transcribed.]

1. How long have you been in Yaoundé? ______months / years

2. What is your occupation: o Public sector: ______o Private sector: ______o Informal sector: ______o Student: Undergraduate, specify year ______o Student: Graduate/Professional, specify year ______o Unemployed: (what assistance receiving) ______

3. How many people are living in your household: (children/adult men/adult women)______o Who is working/contributing to HH income? What are they doing?

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4. What degrees do you currently hold (check that apply)? o None: ______o High school: ______o BA/BS, field: ______o Masters, field: ______o PhD, field: ______o MD, field: ______o Other degree, field: ______o If student: what degree(s) are you currently seeking? ______

5. Gender: Male Female Transgender Other

6. Age: ______

7. Marital status: o Married and living together o Married but living separately o Divorced/Separated (legally) o Single o Other, specify ______8. Number and ages of children (if dead, age and cause of death):

9. Do you hold any particular leadership positions in your community? Which one?

10. Illnesses that you are living with (or family members) ______

11. How long you have been living with this illness?______

12. Receiving assistance? ______

13. Refugee status of family: o Registered refugee o Decision pending 367 o Some family members with status/others pending or don’t have o Residence Permit o Nationality (Cameroonian/USA) o Other, specify ______

368

Appendix B: Semi-structured interview form (French)

LIRE [n'a pas besoin d'être enregistrées]:

LIRE SCRIPT DE RECRUTEMENT POUR CONFIRMER ADMISSIBILITÉ

LIRE ET RECORD VERBAL CONSENTEMENT

Ceci est une entretien en profondeur que je mène pour essayer d'en savoir plus de vous

à propos de vos expérience comme refugie urbain à Yaoundé, vos souhaites et plans

pour le futur, votre intégration sociale, et comment gérer les défis, y compris les

questions juridiques et liées à la protection, chez les réfugiés Rwandais à Yaoundé.

Avez-vous des questions avant de commencer?

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[Commencez l'enregistrement.] Je voudrais commencer par vous poser quelques

questions sur vous et comment vous êtes venu à Yaoundé. Avez-vous des questions avant

de commencer?

22. (demander celui-ci que si j’ai rencontré la personne avant) d'abord, je voudrais savoir comment vous avez été depuis notre dernière rencontre. A quelque chose a changé dans votre vie depuis ce temps ? • Probe sur des questions spécifiques qui ont été memo (constate) de l'observation

participante avec la personne

• Probe sur les mises à jour de statut juridique si cela était une crainte dans la

rencontre précédente

• Probe sur les conditions chroniques: des problèmes de santé récents

• Probe sur les conditions de vie

23. Pouvez-vous me dire un peu plus sur votre vie à Yaoundé? • Moment de déplacement?

• Est-ce qu’il/elle est arrivé(e) a travers d'autres pays?

• Appréciations / aversions?

24. (si ne mentionne pas déjà) Pouvez-vous me parler un peu de votre famille? • Les enfants? Épouse / partenaire?

• Qui sont considérés comme faisant partie du «ménage»

• Connexions familiales dans d'autres pays?

• Probe : la situation de genre chez leur famille/foyer ?

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25. (si ne mentionne pas déjà) Êtes-vous actuellement un réfugié inscrit avec l’UNHCR? • Si oui: sonder tous les problèmes avec cela? Peur de perdre? Tout le monde dans

la famille?

• Si non: quel statut a si ne me dérange pas demander? Est-ce que quelqu'un dans

la famille ont-ils?

i. Quels sont les défis liée avec votre statut à la santé (de vous ou votre famille)? • Probe: si il/elle peut perdre ou ne l’a pas: que va-t-il/elle faire ensuite, quelles

sont les conditions qui seraient acceptables pour il/elle de rentrer chez lui/elle?

26. Qu'est-ce qu'une journée typique pour vous? En d'autres termes, ce genre de choses faites-vous habituellement chaque jour?

27. Quelle partie de votre vie quotidienne aimez-vous le plus? Quelle partie de votre vie quotidienne appréciez-vous le moins?

28. Ma recherche est sur l’espoir, et je suis particulièrement intéressée sur la façon dont les réfugiés urbains sont en mesure de gérer stress constant, les questions juridiques et le rôle que l’espoir et les plans pour la future joue. Quelles sont vos espoirs pour la future ? • Est-ce que ces espoirs sont similaires à travers votre communauté?

• Comment ce changement en fonction de l'âge / etc.?

• Est-ce que c’est différent selon le genre?

• Comment peut-on atteindre cet objectif?

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Maintenant, je voudrais vous poser quelques questions plus précises sur votre famille.

29. Pouvez-vous me parler un peu de la santé de vous et vos membres de la famille? Quels problèmes est-ce que vous luttez avec? • Sonde: ont-ils eu des problèmes graves au cours des dernières années?

30. Comment gérez-vous les différents défis dont vous faire face? • Probe en fonction des conditions spécifiques qui sont mentionnés

• Est-ce que l’UNHCR fournit un soutien? Autres?

• Le soutien familial?

• Emploi: si oui, que font-ils et comment font-ils trouver du travail pour couvrir

les coûts?

31. Pouvez-vous me parler services qui sont disponible pour vous aider avec vos problèmes? • Si les problèmes sont liées la santé: utilisation de la médecine traditionnelle?

• Est-ce que quelqu'un que vous connaissez ont un problème similaire qu'ils

traitent d'une manière différente?

• Parlez-moi de la façon dont ils accèdent à cela? De Cameroun ou au Rwanda?

• Si non - pour quoi pas?

32. Quels sont les principaux obstacles à traiter vos problèmes? • Probes: coûts? • Comment est-ce que vous êtes traités par les autorités de l’immigration, les fournisseurs de soins de santé, ou autres fournisseurs de services? • D'autres facteurs de stress ou de considérations environnementales qui les exacerbent? 372

33. Pouvez-vous me dire au sujet des moments où vous, ou quand un membre de la communauté ou membre de la famille que vous savez, ont du réduire quelques choses d’important dans leur vie ? Par exemple, peut-être ils n’ont pas pu prendre des médicaments comme prescrits? • Probes: raisons?

• À quelle fréquence?

• Qu'est-ce que permet d'éviter cela?

• Déterminer si la personne trouve que ceci est important ou pas trop ?

34. Quelles sont les autres sources de stress dans votre vie? • Statut légal?

i. Si le statut juridique: comment gérer? Que voient des perspectives en tant que futurs?

35. Comment gérez-vous le stress dans votre vie? • Expliquez les causes du stress, creuser plus profond?

o Que faites-vous pour aborder le stress?

• Qui vous aide à résoudre vos problèmes? Comment est-ce que ça se passe ?

Enfin, je voudrais vous demander un peu plus sur votre future et votre communauté.

36. Qu’est-ce que vous pensez sont les plus grandes obstacles qui empêche vous ou les membres de votre communauté a achever vous souhaites pour la future ? • Réunion différents membres de la communauté?

• Rencontre collective des réfugiés?

• Les organismes spécifiques qui doivent être enregistrés auprès?

373

• Est-ce que cela est diffèrent pour les différents personnes (genre/âge/autres ?)

37. Pouvez-vous me parler d'une communauté, la famille, ou un individu (vous n'êtes pas obligé de citer qui précisément) qui a largement réussi à gérer leurs problèmes pareils ?? • Comment pensez-vous qu'ils ont été en mesure de le faire?

• Quels sont les éléments clés qui leur permettent d'être couronnées de succès?

(genre/âge/autres ?)

38. De même, pouvez-vous me parler d'une communauté, la famille, ou une personne que vous avez vu qui semble avoir eu plus de succès, et comment pensez-vous qu'ils ont été en mesure d'atteindre cet objectif?

39. Quelles possibilités voyez-vous pour mieux soutenir les réfugiés urbains avec vos problèmes principaux à Yaoundé? • Quel type de soutien de traiter des questions principales?

40. Quels sont vos plus grands rêves et aspirations pour votre vie? • Et celui de vos enfants ?

41. Si vous perdiez a jamais votre statut de réfugié, que feriez-vous? • Dans quelles conditions seriez-vous à l'aise de retourner chez vous?

42. Y at-il autre chose que vous aimeriez partager, ou que vous vous sentez serait important pour nous de savoir?

Pour terminer l'interview, je voudrais recueillir des données sociodémographique standard. [Cette partie n'a pas à être enregistrée et / ou transcrites.]

374

14. Depuis combien de temps êtes-vous à Yaoundé? ______mois/années

15. Quelle est votre profession: o Secteur publique: ______o Secteur privé: ______o Secteur informel: ______o Étudiant: premier cycle, précisez l'année ______o Étudiant: Graduate / Professional, précisez l'année ______o Au chômage: (quelle assistance réception) ______

16. Combien de personnes vivent dans votre ménage: (enfants / hommes adultes / femmes adultes______o Qui parmi eux travaillent ? Ou contribuent à la revenue de votre foyer ? Qu’est-ce qu’ils font ?

17. Quels degrés occupez-vous actuellement (chèque qui s'appliquent)? o Rien : ______o Lycee : ______o BA/BS, domaine: ______o Masters, domaine: ______o PhD, domaine: ______o MD, domaine: ______o Autres /domaine: ______o Si l'étudiant: quel degré (s) êtes-vous actuellement à la recherche? ______

18. Genre: Homme Femme Transgenre Autre

19. Âge: ______

20. Situation familial: o Marié et vivre ensemble 375

o Marié mais vivant séparément o Divorcé / Séparé (légalement) o Celibataire o Autre, précisez ______21. Nombre et âge des enfants (si mort, âge et cause de décès):

22. Est-ce que vous détenez tous les postes de direction en particulier dans votre communauté? Laquelle?

23. Les maladies que vous vivez avec (ou membres de la famille) ______

24. Combien de temps vous avez vécu avec cette maladie?______

25. Réception de l'assistance? ______

26. Le statut de réfugié de la famille: o Réfugiés enregistrés o Décision en attente o Certains membres de la famille avec le statut / autres en attente ou ne pa o Carte de séjour o Nationalité (Cameroun/Etats Unis) o Autre, précisez ______

376

Appendix C: Semi-structured interview consent form (English)

Consent Form to Participate in Semi-Structured Interview

Introduction and Purpose

You are being invited to take part in a research study to examine the available social support resources which assist your community in your day-to-day lives in Yaoundé, especially in what chronic illnesses you deal with and how you manage them. This form is designed to tell you what you need to think about before you decide to consent (agree) to be part of the study. It is entirely your choice.

Survey Administration

Kelly Yotebieng, an Ohio State University PhD student in Anthropology will administer a one- on-one semi-structured interview. Full participation will require about 60 minutes of your time.

Ms. Yotebieng is being supervised by the project Principal Investigator, Dr. Anna Willow, Associate Professor of Anthropology, The Ohio State University and Dr. Paschal Awah of the University of Yaoundé I.

Procedures

If you agree to participate, you will be asked questions about your background, how you arrived in Yaoundé, your health, what services are available in your community, some of your major struggles including those related to international protection and legal status, and how you deal with and manage your problems on a day to day basis.

Risks and Discomforts

There are no more than minimal risks involved with this study beyond those of everyday life. This study is not expected to cause any harm to you. Some of the questions may bring up 377 sensitive issues that you prefer not discussing. If you are uncomfortable at any point or do not wish to discuss, you are free to abstain from the conversation or leave as needed without penalty. You do not have to answer any questions you do not want to.

Benefits

Taking part in this study may not benefit you personally, but the study coordinators may learn new things that increase understanding of priorities and gaps for social service agencies in your community. Your participation in the study will have no effect on the services being provided to you and neither will you lose any benefits.

Withdrawal/Choosing Not to Participate

You can choose to be in this study or not. If you decide not to be in the study, nothing will happen to you. If you take part in the study, you do not have to answer any questions you do not want to. You can also choose not to do some parts of the study and you can also stop at any time.

Compensation

No compensation is available for your participation.

Confidentiality

We will not be recording your names or any other information about you except for your ages and length of time in country. None of the results will ever be identified by name and will be kept in a separate file than the transcripts of this discussion. Your name and other facts that might point to you will not appear when we present this study or publish its results. The audio recording from today will be destroyed within 7 days of complete transcription of the discussion.

Contact Information

For questions about the project, contact:

Co-PI : Kelly Yotebieng (USA) PhD Student The Ohio State University College of Arts and Sciences Department of Anthropology 4034 Smith Laboratory, 174 W. 18th Avenue, Columbus, OH 43210-1106 +1 614-822-5157 [email protected]

Dr. Anna Willow 378

Department of Anthropology The Ohio State University Marion, Ohio 43302 USA Phone: +1 740 725-6259 Fax: +1 614 292-4155 Email: [email protected]

(Cameroon) Kelly Yotebieng Centre for Population Studies and Health Promotion, Yaoundé, PO Box 7535, Yaoundé-Cameroon +237 678 260 088, +237 696 164 165

Dr. Paschal Awah Department of Anthropology Letters and Social Sciences University of Yaoundé I, Cameroon +237 677812028 ou 690595948

Ministry of Scientific Research and Innovation Rue de l’Ecole Normale Supérieure P.O. Box 1457, Yaoundé-Cameroon Phone: (237) 22 22 52 02 Email: [email protected]

Verbal Consent

I have had a chance to ask questions about this study and my questions have been answered. I voluntarily provide my consent form as my own free act and deed. I am willingly and freely consenting to participate in this interview.

I agree to take part in the interview: Yes_____ No______

______Signature of the Person Conducting the Informed Consent Date & Time

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Appendix D: Semi-structured interview consent form (French)

Formulaire de consentement à participer à l’entretien semi-formel

Introduction et But

Vous êtes invités à participer à une étude de recherche visant à examiner les ressources de soutien social disponibles qui aident votre communauté dans votre vit hebdomadaire à Yaoundé, en particulier par rapport aux maladies chroniques que vous vivez avec et comment vous les gérer. Ce formulaire est conçu pour vous dire ce que vous devez ont droit de réfléchir avant de vous décider à consentir (d'accord) pour faire partie de l'étude. Votre participation est tout à fait facultative.

L'administration de l'enquête

Kelly Yotebieng, un étudiant de doctorat en anthropologie à l'Université de l’Etat d’Ohio (OSU) administrera un entretien semi-formel individuel. Nous prévoyons qu’il faudra environ 60 minutes de votre temps.

Mme Yotebieng est supervisé par le chercheur principal du projet, Dr Anna Willow, professeur agrégé d'anthropologie à OSU et Dr Paschal Awah de l'Université de Yaoundé I.

Procédures

Si vous acceptez de participer, vous posera des questions sur vos antécédents, comment vous êtes arrivé à Yaoundé, votre santé, quels sont les services offerts dans votre collectivité, certains de vos grandes luttes y compris comment vous gérer les soucis par rapport à votre protection et statut légal, et comment vous traiter et gérer vos différents problèmes jour après jour.

Risques et malaises

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Il n'y a pas plus que de risques minimes impliqués dans cette étude qui depassent celles de la vie quotidienne. Cette étude ne prévoit pas aucun effet néfaste à vous. Quand même, certaines des questions peuvent soulever des questions sensibles que vous préférez ne pas discuter. Si vous êtes mal à l'aise à n’importe quel moment ou ne souhaitez pas discuter, vous êtes libre de ne pas participer à la conversation ou à partir, au besoin, sans pénalité. Vous n'êtes pas obligé de répondre à toutes les questions que vous ne voulez pas.

Avantages

Il est possible que votre participation à cette étude ne vous bénéficie pas personnellement, mais les coordonnateurs de l'étude peuvent apprendre de nouvelles choses qui augmentent la compréhension des priorités et les lacunes pour les organismes de services sociaux dans votre communauté. Votre participation à l'étude n'a pas d'effet sur les services fournis à vous et ne vous perdre tous les avantages.

Retrait / Choix de ne pas participer

Vous pouvez choisir de participer à cette étude ou pas. Si vous décidez de ne pas participer à l'étude, rien ne vous arrivera. Si vous prenez part à l'étude, vous n'êtes pas obligé de répondre à toutes les questions que vous ne voulez pas. Vous pouvez également choisir de ne pas faire des parties de l'étude et vous pouvez également arrêter à tout moment.

Compensation

Aucune compensation n’est disponible pour votre participation.

Confidentialité

Nous ne serons pas l'enregistrement de votre nom ou toute autre information à propos de vous, sauf vos âges et longueur de temps dans le pays. Aucun des résultats ne sera jamais identifié avec votre nom et seront conservés dans un fichier séparé que les transcriptions de cette discussion. Votre nom et d'autres faits qui pourraient vous identifier ne apparaîtra pas lorsque nos présentations de cette étude ou de publication ses résultats. L'enregistrement audio à partir d'aujourd'hui sera détruit dans les 7 jours de la transcription complète de la discussion.

Coordonnées

Pour toute question concernant le projet, veuillez communiquer avec :

Co-PI : Kelly Yotebieng (Etats Unis) PhD Student The Ohio State University

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College of Arts and Sciences Department of Anthropology 4034 Smith Laboratory, 174 W. 18th Avenue, Columbus, OH 43210-1106 +1 614-822-5157 [email protected]

Dr. Anna Willow Department of Anthropology The Ohio State University Marion, OH 43302 USA Phone: +1 740 725-6259 Fax: +1 614 292-4155 Email: [email protected]

(Cameroun) Kelly Yotebieng Centre for Population Studies and Health Promotion, Yaoundé, PO Box 7535, Yaoundé-Cameroun +237 678 260 088, +237 696 164 165

Dr. Paschal Awah Département d’Anthropologie Lettres et Sciences Sociales Université de Yaoundé I, Cameroun +237 677812028 ou 690595948

Ministère de la Recherche Scientifique et de l’Innovation Rue de l’Ecole Normale Supérieure P.O. Box 1457, Yaoundé-Cameroon Phone: (237) 22 22 52 02 Email: [email protected]

Consentement verbal

Je l'ai eu la chance de poser des questions au sujet de cette étude et mes questions ont été répondues. Je fournis volontairement mon formulaire de consentement de ma propre volonté. Je consente de participer volontairement et librement à cette enquête.

Je suis d'accord pour participer: Oui_____ Non______

______Signature de la personne chargée de consentement Date & Heure

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Appendix E: Consent card (English)

Research Contact Information Card

Kelly Yotebieng Graduate Student, Department of Anthropology (USA) The Ohio State University Columbus, OH 43210 USA Phone: +1 614 822 5157, +237 678 260 088, +237 696 164 165 Email: [email protected]

(Cameroon) Centre for Population Studies and Health Promotion, Yaoundé, PO Box 7535, Yaoundé-Cameroon +237 77111895

The faculty supervisors for this research project are:

(USA) Dr. Anna Willow Department of Anthropology The Ohio State University Marion, OH 43302 USA Phone: +1 740 725-6259 Fax: +1 614 292-4155 Email: [email protected]

(Cameroon) Dr. Paschal Awah Department of Anthropology Letters and Social Sciences University of Yaoundé I, Cameroon +237 677812028 ou 690595948

For questions about your rights as someone taking part in this study, you may contact: (USA)

383

Ms. Sandra Meadows in the Office of Responsible Research Practices at 1-614-688-4792 or 1- 800-678-6251. You may call this number to discuss concerns or complaints about the study with someone who is not part of the research team. (Cameroon) Ministry of Scientific Research and Innovation, Rue de l’Ecole Normale Supérieure, P.O. Box 1457, Yaoundé-Cameroon, Phone: (237) 22 22 52 02, [email protected]

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Appendix F: Consent card (French)

Carte d'information sur cette recherche

Kelly Yotebieng (Etats Unis) Etudiant en Doctorat, Département d'anthropologie L’Université de l’Etat d’Ohio (OSU) Columbus, OH 43210 Etats-Unis Tél: +1 614 822 5157, +237 678 260 088, +237 696 164 165 Email: [email protected]

(Cameroun) Centre for Population Studies and Health Promotion, Yaoundé, PO Box 7535, Yaoundé-Cameroun +237 77111895

Les superviseurs pour ce projet de recherche sont: (Etats Unis) Dr. Anna Willow Département d'anthropologie L’Université de l’Etat d’Ohio (OSU) Marion, OH 43302 Etats-Unis Tél: +1 740 725-6259 Fax: +1 614 292-4155 Email: [email protected]

(Cameroun) Dr. Paschal Awah Département d’Anthropologie Lettres et Sciences Sociales Université de Yaoundé I, Cameroun +237 677812028 ou 690595948

Veuillez-vous la contacter pour des questions par rapport à cette recherche, ou si vous sentez que votre participation avait les effets néfastes.

385

Pour des questions concernant vos droits en tant que personne qui prend part à cette étude, vous pouvez communiquer avec : (Etats Unis) Mme Sandra Meadows dans le Bureau de Responsabilité Sociale de recherche (OSU) au 1-614- 688-4792 ou 1-800-678-6251. Vous pouvez appeler ce numéro pour discuter des préoccupations ou des plaintes au sujet de l'étude avec quelqu'un qui ne fait pas partie de l'équipe de recherche. (Cameroun) Ministry of Scientific Research and Innovation, Rue de l’Ecole Normale Supérieure, P.O. Box 1457, Yaoundé-Cameroon, Phone: (237) 22 22 52 02, [email protected]

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Appendix G: Photo-release form (English)

Photo-release form

Title: An ethnography of urban marginality, coping, and resilience among Rwandan refugees in Yaoundé, Cameroon

Introduction and Purpose

Your photo has been included in a research project exploring urban refugee resilience, and we would like to request your consent to use this photograph in future publications of this research.

The data collected in this study will be used to build a larger program which I intend to provide information to service providers that allow them to understand the strengths and resilience as well as unmet legal protection needs, and other priorities of your community. All photographs will be de-identified and stored on a password protected server at the Ohio State University. The research team will use these photographs to accompany publications in journals and at conferences. Any photographs that include identifiable people will not be used unless we collect informed, written consent from the individuals in the photographs that they consent to their use for these reasons.

Kelly Yotebieng, an Ohio State University PhD student in Anthropology, will be responsible for ensuring that your photograph is not used for purposes outside of scholarly and advocacy activities noted above, without further consent from you.

Contact Information

For questions about the project, contact:

387

Dr. Anna Willow Department of Anthropology The Ohio State University Marion, OH 43302 USA Phone: +1 740 725-6259 Fax: +1 614 292-4155 Email: [email protected]

(Cameroon) Kelly Yotebieng Centre for Population Studies and Health Promotion, Yaoundé, PO Box 7535, Yaoundé-Cameroon +237 678 260 088, +237 696 164 165

Dr. Paschal Awah Department of Anthropology Letters and Social Sciences University of Yaoundé I, Cameroon +237 677812028 ou 690595948

Ministry of Scientific Research and Innovation Rue de l’Ecole Normale Supérieure P.O. Box 1457, Yaoundé-Cameroon Phone: (237) 22 22 52 02 Email: [email protected]

Written Consent

I have had a chance to ask questions about this study and my questions have been answered. I voluntarily provide my consent form as my own free act and deed.

I agree to release my photograph: Yes_____ No______

______Signature of the Participant Date & Time

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Appendix H: Photo-release form (French)

Formulaire de consentement à l’utilisation de photo

Tire: Une ethnographie de la marginalité urbaine, d'adaptation et la résilience chez les réfugiés rwandais à Yaoundé, Cameroun

Introduction et But

Votre photo a été incluse dans un projet de recherche sur la résilience des réfugiés urbains, et nous voudrions demander votre consentement pour utiliser cette photo dans les publications futures de cette recherche.

Les données recueillies dans cette étude seront utilisés pour construire un programme plus vaste que je compte fournir des informations aux fournisseurs de services qui leur permettent de comprendre les forces et la résilience, ainsi que les besoins de de protection non satisfaits, et les priorités de votre communauté. Toutes les photos et entretiens seront dé-identifiés et sauvegardés sur un serveur protégé par mot de passe à l'Ohio State University. L'équipe de recherche utilisera ces photographies pour accompagner les publications et aux conférences. Les photographes qui incluent les personnes identifiables ne seront pas utilisées à moins que nous recueillions le consentement écrit des personnes dans les photographes qu'ils consentent à leur utilisation pour lesdites raisons.

Kelly Yotebieng, un étudiant au doctorat de l'Université Ohio State en anthropologie, sera responsable de veiller à ce que votre photo ne soit pas utilisé à des fins en dehors des activités scientifiques et de sensibilisation mentionnées ci-dessus, sans autre consentement de votre part.

Coordonnées

Pour toute question concernant le projet, veuillez communiquer avec :

Co-PI : Kelly Yotebieng (Etats Unis) PhD Student The Ohio State University College of Arts and Sciences Department of Anthropology 4034 Smith Laboratory, 174 W. 18th Avenue, Columbus, OH 43210-1106

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+1 614-822-5157 [email protected]

Dr. Anna Willow Department of Anthropology The Ohio State University Marion, OH 43302 USA Phone: +1 740 725-6259 Fax: +1 614 292-4155 Email: [email protected]

(Cameroun) Kelly Yotebieng Centre for Population Studies and Health Promotion, Yaoundé, PO Box 7535, Yaoundé-Cameroun +237 678 260 088, +237 696 164 165

Dr. Paschal Awah Département d’Anthropologie Lettres et Sciences Sociales Université de Yaoundé I, Cameroun +237 677812028 ou 690595948

Ministère de la Recherche Scientifique et de l’Innovation Rue de l’Ecole Normale Supérieure P.O. Box 1457, Yaoundé-Cameroon Phone: (237) 22 22 52 02 Email: [email protected]

Consentement verbal

Je l'ai eu la chance de poser des questions au sujet de cette étude et mes questions ont été répondues. Je fournis volontairement mon formulaire de consentement de ma propre volonté.

Je suis d'accord de l’utilisation de mon photo: Oui_____ Non______

______Signature de la participant Date & Heure

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Appendix I: Data management plan and transcription protocol

Roles and responsibilities The co-PI, Kelly Ann Yotebieng (KAY), will be responsible for the data management plan and its monitoring. All data will be collected by KAY and a Cameroonian Research Assistant. All data will be used and backed-up by the PI, Dr. Anna Willow, and co-PI from The Ohio State University’s (OSU) department of Anthropology, and the University of Yaoundé’s Department of Anthropology via the in-country faculty collaborator, Dr. Paschal Awah. IRB approval has already been secured via The Ohio State University (Protocol #2015B0496). Our Cameroonian research permit also covers the entire period of this research. Expected data The proposed project will include ethnographic, basic demographic, and visual data from approximately 50 urban refugees. Collected data will be stored in several formats: electronic files (Word, Excel, digital sound, and jpg files), online secure server memory, and hard drive memory. This data will be captured via in-depth semi-structured interviews, participant observation, photographs via a digital data collection tool (via Fuji digital camera), and notebooks from participants taken over the course of the project's visual ethnography exercise. KAY will assign a unique ID number to each participant to maintain the confidentiality of their information and keep track of data from multiple interviews, discussions, and participant observations. All data will be de-identified and coded with the appropriate ID number. For photographs, we will take care to ensure no faces, and will delete any photos that readily identify anyone unless they provide written consent pursuant to our IRB. The list of unique ID numbers with demographic information will be saved in a separate location on a separate password protected, encrypted, external hard drive. In-depth semi- structured interviews will be audio-recorded by the co-PI after receiving verbal consent and initials using an IRB-approved consent form. Period of data retention Following completion of the dissertation, a hard copy will remain in the Department of Anthropology. An electronic pdf file also will be stored online by the ProQuest Information and Learning Company, the Ohio State University Libraries System, and OhioLink. To assure researchers in various fields will be able to access information 391

generated by the proposed project, major findings will be submitted for publication in peer-reviewed journals focused on resilience, anthropology, forced migration and global mental health within two years of dissertation completion. The de-identified data from the proposed project will be made available upon request to the Department of Anthropology as deemed appropriate for additional analyses, as long as adequate credit is given to the data’s source. Data format and dissemination Responses will be stored on an Ohio State University (OSU) secure server under their ID number with access limited by password. Digital recordings of interviews (audio recordings), fieldnotes (Word documents, PDF, written notebooks), and interview transcripts (Word documents), and photographs (.jpg) will be stored on an encrypted laptop protected by password. The jpg files will be imported into MaxQDA software and linked to the transcripts of the interviews and discussions related to that photograph. As soon as transcription and translation are completed, any audio recordings will be destroyed, pursuant to our IRB protocol. Metadata for the interview transcripts, digital photographs, and fieldnotes will include the data collector (co-PI, Kelly Yotebieng)’s name and OSU email address which will remain active, as an alumni, indefinitely after her completion of the project. Her gmail address will also be posted with Metadata as an alternate contact in case she leaves OSU. Metadata will also include the date, location (city, not more specific than that for confidentiality purposes), and purpose of each specific interview. Data storage and preservation of access The data will remain the property of The Ohio State University's Department of Anthropology for 5 years post project, at which time those copies will be destroyed. To protect human subjects’ privacy, we will be using an all rights reserved format and will grant access under guidance from The Ohio State University’s copyright lawyer on a case by case basis for reasons including academic and non-commercial reasons. All verbal consent for interview data will include consent to share data pursuant to approved IRB verbal consent form. We will receive written consent from individuals to share their photos pursuant to IRB approved written consent forms. Anyone wanting to access the data who is no longer with The Ohio State University's Department of Anthropology will have to request access from the department and ensure that while used it is being preserved on a password protected computer in compliance with the university's data management policies and this data management plan. If the co-PI leaves OSU, she will request continued accessed to the data via OSU’s transfer agreement and her OSU e-mail address will remain active and be responsible for answering and forwarding any requests to access the data to the Department.

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Additional possible data management requirements Given that the data will be collected overseas, the co-PI will ensure that she works with OSU’s lawyers and the Department of Anthropology’s Administrative and Finance manager to ensure compliance with OSU’s export control requirements (pursuant to export control license ECCN 4A994, NLR).

Transcription, disposal of audio recording and Translation Within 7 days of the interview, the co-PI will finalize the transcription in French, the language of the interview, using the general formatting instructions below. Audio recordings will be promptly destroyed at that time. No identifying information other than gender and age (not birthday) will be included with the interview transcription.

The interview will be translated into English for ease of analyses afterwards by the co-PI.

Specifically, the co-PI shall transcribe/translate all interviews using the following formatting:

1. Arial 11-point font. 2. Single spaced text; one space in between questions and answers. 3. One inch top, bottom, right, and left margins. 4. All text shall begin at the left-hand margin (the only indents should be between the Q/A: and the text of the interviewer’s question or participant’s response – see below) 5. Entire document shall be left justified. 6. Use only a single space between every period and the start of a new sentence. 7. Pages shall be numbered on the bottom left corner of each page and include the interview ID number. In Word, use Insert -> Page Number and manually type in the interview ID number and a colon on page 1; the ID # and page # will appear on each page of the document. Example: 001:1, 001:2, through 001:n pages.

Labeling Transcripts Interview transcripts shall include the following labeling information at the top of the document:

ID #: (1 or 2) Interview Date: yyyy/mm/dd Name of Transcriptionist/Translator: Number of participants, gender and age:

Documenting Comments Comments or questions by the Interviewer should be labeled with a Q: at the left margin and the text of the question or comment that follows shall be indented. Use the tab key or 0.5” for the indent.

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Any comments or responses from participants should be labeled with A: at the left margin with the response indented.

Example: QF: OK, before we begin the interview itself, I’d like to confirm that you have read and signed the informed consent form, that you understand that your participation in this study is entirely voluntary, that you may refuse to answer any questions, and that you may withdraw from the study at anytime.

AF: Yes, I had read it and understand this.

AM: I also understand it, thank you.

QM: Do you have questions before we proceed?

End of Interview In addition, the transcriptionist shall indicate when the interview session has reached completion by typing END OF INTERVIEW in uppercase letters on the last line of the transcript. A double space should precede this information. Erase any additional space after END OF INTERVIEW to prevent additional blank pages from appearing at the end of the document.

Audiotapes shall be transcribed verbatim (i.e., recorded word for word, exactly as said), including any nonverbal or background sounds (e.g., laughter, sighs, coughs, claps, snaps fingers, pen clicking, car horns, and other background noise or disruptions).

. Nonverbal sounds shall be typed in parentheses, for example, (short sharp laugh), (group laughter), (police siren in background).

. Filler words such as hm, huh, uh huh, um, yeah, whoa, uh oh, ahah, etc. shall be transcribed. *** However, excess use of hmm, uh huh, etc. by the interviewer to show that s/he is listening during a participant’s story do not all have to be transcribed, as this can break up the text too much and interrupt the flow of the story***

. Other sounds made by the individual in order to imitate the sound of something they are referring to shall be transcribed verbatim in italics and explained in parenthesis.

Example: A: It was like boom, boom (participant imitates the sound of a beating heart) and I felt like, whoa, my heart was beating out of my chest!

. If interviewers or interviewees mispronounce words, these words shall be transcribed as the individual said them. The transcript shall not be “cleaned up” by removing foul language, slang, grammatical errors, or misuse of words or concepts.

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. If an incorrect or unexpected pronunciation results in difficulties with comprehension of the text, the correct word shall be typed in square brackets. A forward slash shall be placed immediately behind the open square bracket and another in front of the closed square bracket.

Example: A: I thought that was pretty pacific [/specific/], but they disagreed.

. Although transcripts should not be “cleaned up” for content, it is important to otherwise follow proper grammatical conventions to make it easier for analysts to read, such as capitalizing the beginning of sentences and ending sentences with periods. Transcripts in Spanish should include proper use of accents and punctuation specific to the language, such as upside-down question marks and exclamation points. The proper use of accents in Spanish words is critical, as omitting or adding incorrect accents can change the meaning of words entirely.

. Exclamation points should be included with words and phrases of exclamation. When participants express a discreet change in emotion in what they are saying, such as altering the excitement, tone, or volume of their voice, this should be indicated with exclamation points to add emphasis. On the other hand, exclamation points should be avoided when such expressions are used without emotion or change in intonation in the individual’s voice.

Inaudible Information The transcriptionist shall identify portions of the audiotape that are inaudible or difficult to decipher. If a relatively small segment of the tape (a word or short sentence) is partially unintelligible, the transcriptionist shall type the phrase “inaudible segment.” This information shall appear in square brackets.

Example: The process of identifying missing words in an audiotaped interview of poor quality is [inaudible segment].

If a lengthy segment of the tape is inaudible, unintelligible, or is “dead air” where no one is speaking, the transcriptionist shall record this information in square brackets. In addition, the transcriptionist shall provide a time estimate for information that could not be transcribed.

Example: [Inaudible: 2 minutes of interview missing]

Overlapping Speech If individuals are speaking at the same time (i.e., overlapping speech) and it is not possible to distinguish what each person is saying, the transcriptionist shall place the phrase “cross talk” in square brackets immediately after the last identifiable speaker’s text and pick up with the next audible speaker.

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Example: A: Turn taking may not always occur. People may simultaneously contribute to the conversation; hence, making it difficult to differentiate between one person’s statement [cross talk]. This results in loss of some information.

Interruptions Interruptions should be noted, including instances when the interviewer interrupts the participant, so that analysts are able to assess the difference between a pause in communication (see next section) versus an interruption in the flow of speech. The word or phrase or partial word that is interrupted should be indicated with a dash – and no period should be used to show that the thought was incomplete. The interrupting statement should be indicated as [crosstalk].

Example: AM: Exactly, it’s a really sensitive issue becau –

QF: Because you thought her feelings would be hurt [crosstalk]?

AM: Well, yes.

Pauses If an individual pauses briefly between statements or trails off at the end of a statement, the transcriptionist shall use three ellipses. A brief pause is defined as a two to five second break in speech.

Example: A: Sometimes, a participant briefly loses . . . a train of thought or . . . pauses after making a poignant remark. Other times, they end statements with a clause such as but then . . .

If a substantial speech delay occurs at either beginning or the continuing a statement occurs (more than two or three seconds), the transcriptionist shall use “long pause” in parentheses.

Example: A: Sometimes the individual may require additional time to construct a response. (Long pause) other times, he or she is waiting for additional instructions or probes.

Questionable Text If the transcriptionist is unsure of the accuracy of a statement made by a speaker, this statement shall be placed inside parentheses and a question mark is placed in front of the open parenthesis and behind the close parenthesis.

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Example: A: I walked down the street to ?(Bar Loco)? to see if they had a job for me because I thought the working conditions would be better there.

Sensitive Information If an individual uses his or her own name during the discussion, the transcriptionist shall replace this information by indicating the person’s initials in quotes and explain who it is in brackets in the first occurrence, such as if the friend’s name is Jennifer it should read: “J” [participant’s friend]. If a translator encounters a name that was not shortened by mistake, please translate as “J” and highlighted in yellow so the data manager can edit the Spanish version.

Example: AF: He said to me, “’J’ [participant’s friend], think about things before you open your mouth.”

AM: I agree with “J”; I hear the same thing from him all the time.

If an individual provides others’ names, locations, organizations, and so on, the transcriptionist shall enter an equal sign immediately before and after the named information. Analysts will use this labeling information to easily identify sensitive information that may require substitution.

Example: A: I told =Martin= that she works at =Green Valley Clinic= but that she’s really unhappy about the conditions there.

The translator shall highlight any unfamiliar, unknown, questionable, or unconventional words in yellow italics. Translators may write a note to the data manager in red text in parentheses to indicate that the translation/intent of the highlighted text is unknown, or to make a suggestion as to what the text might mean. Translators may retain certain popular terms and slang words that are particular to the study population; these words shall be italicized and the translation shall be placed in parentheses afterwards. Words translated into English that could have multiple meanings shall be translated verbatim in the text and their meaning in the particular context shall be placed in parentheses afterwards. Individual translation issues and problems shall be discussed on a case-by-case basis between the translator and qualitative data manager.

Examples (in Spanish, but same principles apply to any language):

Translator is familiar with the slang and follows convention: AF: Yes, when I wake up, I am malilla (has drug withdrawal syndrome) so I need to go downtown to work and make money so that I can cure (inject drugs).

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Translator is unfamiliar with the slang and adds a note: AF: Yes, when I wake up, I am malilla (unsure of the translation for this – given the context, it seems to be referring to needing drugs) so I need to go downtown to work and make money so that I can cure (the verb is curarse – to cure; seems to refer to using drugs).

Translators shall also pay close attention to instances in which there could be multiple meanings to statements when translated. This can sometimes be avoided by the proper use of accents by the transcriptionist. If it is still unclear, please highlight the discrepancy and make a comment (after the text in parentheses with red text) with notes about the issues, or different translation options for that statement. The data manager will ensure that the correct statement is used.

Example: Spanish transcript indicates: AF: Dicen que de la malilla nadie se muere, pero es mentira, si te mueres de una malilla, si te mueres.

English translation: AF: They say that from the malilla (withdrawal syndrome) nobody dies, but that is a lie, yes you die from the malilla (withdrawal syndrome), yes, you do die. (In the Spanish transcript, “si” doesn’t have an accent, so it could mean “if”, but given the context, I think she means “yes” and translated it that way.)

This could have been avoided by the transcriptionist by simply adding the proper accent to the word “sí” to indicate affirmation, e.g. “sí te mueres de una malilla, sí te mueres.”

The qualitative data manager will use all of the above information to compile a running list of difficult-to-translate words and common sayings, slang terms, and common/interesting local vocabulary pertinent to the research topic and population that are encountered in the interviews. This list will assist other translators as well as serve as a source of data in its own right. The data manager shall consult multiple sources to find appropriate translations for difficult-to-translate words and sayings and make edits to the translations as needed.

After the ENTIRE document has been transcribed/translated, the transcriptionist/translator must check (proofread) all interview transcripts before sending them to the data manager. The qualitative data manager will also audit transcripts for grammar, punctuation, spelling, and overall accuracy and flow. Use spell-check carefully, correcting typographical spelling errors, but not correcting intentionally misspelled words reflecting participants’ pronunciation or grammar.

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The transcriptionists/translators shall save each transcript as a Word document labeled with the ID of the interview, then language of the transcript, and the transcriptionist’s/translator’s initials.

Example: Swahili interview file: 000_Swahili_JS_2013.10.01 English interview file: 000_English_JS_2013.10.01

File names could also include the date the interview was conducted. Files with dates shall be formatted as:” yyyy.mm.dd.”

Backup files of the interviews shall be saved until the work for the project is completed. Before any materials are erased, the transcriptionist/translator shall check with the qualitative data manager to make sure they have already received and backed up all files. All files audited by the data manager shall be saved as above with the extension “_REV_initials.” This system indicates which interview transcripts have been audited and cleaned for analysis, while keeping a copy of the original files from the transcriptionists/translators in case questions or issues arise later.

Example: Audited English interview file: 000_English_JS_2013.10.01_REV_GR

*Protocol adapted from: McLellan, Eleanor, Kathleen M. Macqueen, and Judith L. Neidi. (2003). Beyond the Qualitative Interview: Data Preparation and Transcription. Field Methods, 15(1):63-84. Adaption, revisions, and additions based on lessons learned the hard way while working on research projects.

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Appendix J: Photographs from fieldwork

Below are illustrative photographs from fieldwork to illustrate the context and the themes described in this dissertation. While informed consent was garnered for all photographs, I elected primarily to use photographs that do not show the faces of refugees who have lost their refugee status or are experiencing legal precarity in order to ensure their confidentiality.

J1: Faith and religious context

A sign placed on a door asking “God, protect me from my adversaries and combat those who fight me.” 400

A wall-sized poster that one research participant pointed out to me protected his house, and illustrated the better conditions he hoped to one day live in with support from God.

A statue that one of my research participants noted is a remant from her former church.

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A presentation from a visiting pastor to a Pentecostal Church on how the congregants can support the building of a new Church and spread their message to more followers.

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A visiting Pastor and a translator from French to Kinyarwanda at a Sunday gathering.

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A congregation of mostly Rwandan refugees at a Pentecostal church.

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A pastor blessing water prior to communal Baptisms at a Pentecostal Church.

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J2: Cultural ceremonies and traditions

A Rwandan refugee artist performing traditional dance on the Cameroon National TV and Radio Broadcasting Network.

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2A traditional Rwandan basket (found in most research participant's homes).

Aaaa

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Traditional dancers at a local marriage celebration.

Offerings and traditional dress at a local Baptism ceremony.

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Men's traditional dress at a local Baptism ceremony.

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Women dancing at a party organized to celebrate the graduation from university of a community member.

Traditional outfits and basket at events organized on Cameroon's national reunification day.

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J3: Health

A Carnet de Santé pulled out during one of my participant observation visits to underline the gravity of health issues in the research participant's household.

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3One research participant showing me his swollen foot which he spend significant resources to try and heal.

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4Another research participant (woman) with a similar swollen foot issue which she had not gone to a doctor about (although she was rubbing traditional herbs on it daily).

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5Another research participant showing me their Carnet de Santé to demonstrate the long list of medicines and tests they needed.

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6Another research participant's son’s Carnet de Santé which she showed me to underline her son's disability and the medical challenges that accompanied it.

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7Continued pages of the Carnet de Santé from the previous research participant.

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J4: Housing

Inside the home of one of my research participants in one of the informal settlements that most lived in.

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Another view of the inside of the one room home from the previous photograph. The research participant lived here with her two adult children.

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Outside the home of another research participant in a different informal settlement. The house was separated into several different habitations.

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Outside the home of another research participant in an informal settlement near city center.

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A research participant asking to be filmed in front of her home.

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The kitchen of one of my research participants.

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A home of one of my research participants in an informal settlement on the outskirts of the city.

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J5: Legal precarity

A photograph of a UNHCR document changing the date of the appointment that would reveal the decision on the refugee status of him and his family. These were commonly given to undocumented refugees who were still seeking asylum.

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Another example of a document where the decision for refugee status was delayed to another date next to a torn asylum seeker card that my research participants complained was not recognized by local authorities (i.e. police).

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J6: Neighborhood stores

The outside of one of my research participant’s stores. Most of these stores were found inside of informal settlements throughout the city.

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Me and one of my research participants in front of her store.

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8The storefront of another store located inside of an informal settlement far from town.

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The front of a storefront attached to the room where my research participant lived with her 4 children.

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One of my research participants showing me the tomatoes she just got at the market and was setting up to sell on a stand on the side of a busy street. J7: Coping with waiting

Two of my research participants waiting for 3 hours to be received by the UNHCR. 430

A larger group of refugees later in the day waiting to be received by various social service agencies including the UNHCR who held open hours at the refugee collective.

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J8: Weddings

A Rwandan refugee bride wearing a locally made Cameroonian dress and her invitees wearing traditional Rwandan dress.

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A bride and groom. The bride was a Rwandan refugee based in Cameroon, the groom a former Rwandan refugee living abroad.

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J9: World Refugee Day events

A street sign in the center of the city advertising World Refugee Day events in 2018.

A large crowd of refugees gathered outside of the Refugee Collective in city center during the 2017 World Refugee Day events.

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A large crowd of refugees walking through downtown as part of the 2016 World Refugee Day events.

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The front of the downtown parade organized during the 2016 World Refugee Day events.

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A small refugee Children's parade organized during the 2017 World Refugee Day events where children carried Cameroonian flags as well as others from their countries of origin.

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