School's out for summer!

I have written a couple of posts recently, but prior to that, once again, more than a month, in fact almost two, had slipped by without any blogposts making their way on to the page / screen. In fact in general, my blogpost output this year has been significantly reduced: it looks very likely that 2025 will be the year with the fewest published post since I began this whole endeavour all those years ago. There have been a number of different contributory factors, but over the past couple of months, sheer busy-ness has probably been the main one.

With Refugee Week falling in the middle of it, June has long been one of my busiest months of the year. July, which includes our now annual REP performance and Kintbury residential, is often not far behind. This year was no exception. 

Knowing what was coming, and aware that the early part of the year had taken quite a heavy emotional toll, when May seemed to be shaping up to be a little calmer than some months I managed to be quite intentional about keeping it that way meaning that, perhaps more so than in some years, I faced my busiest season feeling very much ready to go. 

I hit the beginning of June looking at a couple of months in which my diary was certainly very full: with both regular commitments and all the extra things to fit in around them. Already full with things planned well in advance, I also knew there still needed to be space for things which inevitably needed to be squeezed in last minute. 

Refugee Week was filled with activities and celebrations: there was poetry and paint, there was dialogue and dancing, there was laughter and love. This year's theme: Community is a Superpower was a fitting reminder that we are enriched by one another when we create a culture of togetherness rather than isolation. Summer generally makes other trips, activities and outings more possible and more appealing and I had a number of fun days out with different groups of people enjoying fresh air and sunshine and a break from the stresses and strains of their everyday. The REP performance, Home is Where We Belong, already has its own blogpost. The Festival of Encounter would also probably need one to do it justice too.

The number of invitations for school visits always ramps up in the summer term, but this year even more so. We ended the academic year having done a rather satisfying total of 52 visits. For comparison, the previous year's total was 34, so suffice it to say this part of my work has become an increasingly significant time commitment. These visits can, of course, be emotionally heavy but they are also a source of great hope. In a society where the hostile rhetoric around migration sometimes seems to be winning, they feel more important than ever.

In between times, my regular commitments continued: running regular sessions for both Birch and Stories and offering support around the edges to lots of different individuals. The days when my hotel sessions felt like light relief of 'just doing some fun stuff with kids' are long gone: over time they have become increasingly complex and involved, and while often characterised more by what I can't do than what I can, I continue to believe that friendly presence and a listening ear are a valuable contribution to a sense of welcome and wellbeing. As for the Stories group, as well as building towards the REP performance, we've been working on a writing project the outcomes of which I think are going to be incredibly powerful and which I am looking forward to sharing in due course.

I should possibly add that it wasn't all about work: there were plenty of other non-work things, including chances to host visitors and catch up with friends, that also contributed to my over-flowing diary ... not that there is always a clear boundary between work and play in the way I live my life, nor do I want there to be. 

And so here we are in August and despite the fact that June and July were, by any objective standards, a bit bonkers, I reached the slight lull of summer admittedly rather behind on admin, and conscious of big questions to reflect on about capacity going forward from here, but generally feeling like I am in a good place. That's partly because despite the weight of the stories and the state of the world, much of what I have spent my time doing over the past couple of months is, without wanting to underestimate the cost, stuff that gives me life and energy and hope. 

The school summer holidays always mark, for me, a shift in rhythm and routine as well as the ending and beginning of a new year. There is plenty to look back at (and catch up on!), as well as plenty to look forward to. A new diary is waiting to be filled. I am ready. 

Home is here, but it's also there

It is a couple of weeks since Stories of Hope and Home once again took to the stage at Birmingham REP theatre with their latest performance. We have done this enough times now that when, several weeks out, we have lots of ideas but no real form to the script, and when only a couple of weeks out, we still don't really know who the cast will be, I am more able to genuinely believe it'll all be alright, or more than alright, on the day. And as ever, of course, it was. 

For the past couple of years our starting point has been the theme given to us by the REP: after last year's "Love and Rebellion" I didn't think we could possibly be gifted such an appropriate theme again but as it turned out this year's theme "Home and Horizons" was also an excellent fit! Apart from that, we start, in about January, with an entirely blank canvas, with no preconceived ideas of structure or content. And then the conversations begin, the ideas emerge, and slowly but surely, something starts to take shape. It is a genuinely collaborative experience and a process I actively enjoy. The fact that each performance has been so very different in scope and style is testament to the many different people who have been involved in devising, writing and performing each piece: to who they are, individually and collectively, and to what they want to communicate.

One major difference this year from previous years was that we had all of the cast speaking live on stage, something we have never previously attempted. They were, or some at least were, palpably apprehensive, understandably so: but it worked, better even perhaps than they or I might have hoped.  The content was also quite different: while last year's piece focused exclusively on life in the UK asylum system, this year's also drew on the other places our participants call home, as we explored the shared experience of so many of the group of feeling partially at home in two (or more) places, but fully at home in neither. I told someone in advance that I thought it was also less overtly political than last year's piece, but after watching it, they questioned whether that was really true.   

For all the differences each year there are also significant similarities: each year I watch people support and encourage one another, achieving together something many of them didn't think they could do, each year I watch people grow in confidence and find their voice and new ways to express themselves, each year I watch an audience be educated and moved by the stories they hear, each year I watch people get a glimpse of just how amazing this group of people are, each year I am immensely proud of what this wonderful groups of people produce and perform. Above all, each year I watch people who are enjoying the process and having a whole lot of fun!   

"Home is Where we Belong" ended with the performers weaving together ribbons while reciting this poem, itself woven together from words and phrases from the group. It tries to capture much of what home means to them, what it feels like to always be stuck somewhere in the middle, as well as how, when our stories weave together, we can create something beautiful. 

Home is a meal and all those who share it,
Home is the flavours, home is the sounds,
Home is the joy, the dancing, the laughter
Home is the people by whom we've been found
Home is the love of all we call family
And the table we gather around

And home is there, but it's also here

A heart tossed and tugged and torn

And home is here but it's also there

A heart in two places at once

And home is this space in the middle

Where strangers can soon become friends

And home is this space in the middle

Where we each find a place to belong

Home is the cold I'll never get used to
And my skin warmed by African sun
Home is a language that sings in my ears
And one that still tangles my tongue
Home is a place of childhood nostalgia
The things that I've seen, the things that I've done

And home is there, but it's also here

A heart tossed and tugged and torn

And home is here but it's also there

A heart in two places at once

And home is this space in the middle

Where strangers can soon become friends

And home is this space in the middle

Where we each find a place to belong

Home is a place where all is familiar
But a place I was forced to flee
Home is a place that is still slightly strange
But a place where I feel safe and free
Home is traditions I've known forever
Home is where I can truly be me

And home is there, but it's also here

A heart tossed and tugged and torn

And home is here but it's also there

A heart in two places at once

And home is this space in the middle

Where strangers can soon become friends

And home is this space in the middle

Where we each find a place to belong