Workers put the finishing touches on the Tagpuro Transitional Shelters, the day before the first group of IDP families were scheduled to move in. August 26, 2014. © Lindsay Mackenzie 2014

By Rana Jaber

My work is to respond to crises (unfortunately too many) in the Middle East and North Africa region. I am often deployed at borders to coordinate the evacuation of migrants who are often in destitute conditions – fleeing conflict, frightened by what they have seen and wishing to leave as soon as possible. Having dealt with evacuation operations for most of my career, facilitating departures comes naturally to me

My checklist usually looks something like this:

• Count your passengers
• Record age and gender break down
• Book the flight or charter
• Advise all concerned
• Get them to the airport
• Then smile and wave!

However, my major challenge while conducting these activities is how to respond to the questions of migrants –who have fled from civil unrest or political turmoil, have struggled for years in low-skilled jobs, who have been away from their families, and now suddenly find themselves also being deprived of their hard-earned savings. They ask me how their life will look like when they go back home. The worry on their faces betrays their concerns.

This is the same question that Martin*, a Kenyan migrant I met at the Egyptian/Libyan border in 2011 during the IOM Libyan crisis response, asked me with urgency in his voice.  He shook his head in resignation, knowing that my answer would not meet his expectations.

“Thank you Miss Rana.” he said. “May God protect you and give you and your family health and wealth. You are a very good person!”

I ask myself: “Am I really a good person? Did I do the right thing? Was I able to communicate to Martin that IOM cannot grant miracles, but that by protecting him from snipers and crossfire, IOM has not only upheld its humanitarian ‘responsibility to protect’ but has also ensured that he could go back to his community in a dignified manner, free from further harm?” In so doing, IOM has created the initial conditions for him to rebuild his life. Once back home, he can certainly start again. This will be a lengthy and complex but eventually rewarding process in which IOM may continue to play a role in supporting Martin and his family.

For many months after he returned to Nairobi, Martin would call me in Egypt to ask how I was doing. As for him, when we last spoke, he was hoping to go to South Sudan to look for work. Has Martin’s life changed after that extreme situation at which I met him? Was this sudden return to his country beneficial to him and to his family?

I truly hope that next time I am deployed to a border to provide evacuation assistance, I would know how to explain why IOM does what it does, and most importantly, how our work helps Martin and many others like him – by protecting their lives and enabling those who have returned to rebuild and have a brighter future!  

*Not his real name