My Sunday at Shpresa Programme
Sundays at Shpresa unfolded a tapestry of unwoven tales packed with so many faces and flourishing projects. A Rubist, complex web, well oiled machine that is the Shpresa Programme. The women embarked on their teacher assistant training and the children revel in unabridged captivating enchantment. The air filled with laughs and such potent joy. Feeling safe to be themselves, embracing their identities over games like ‘hide and seek’ and the most loved, a game of football.
As I walk through shpresa’s doors, retreating from the harsh winter air that nips at my skin. I am blanketed with the embrace of the warmest of smiles and the bilingual hellos, a linguistic dance of Albanian and English. This is a common occurrence at Shpresa where a bond between two strangers form with the most infectious of smiles. The warmest greetings of affection. Shpresa programme is a place where the unseen are appreciated and the unheard voices are amplified. Where strangers meet and form strong bonds reinforced by the strongest handhold that is shared experiences.
On this particular Sunday, I met great women that hold such resilience and grit. A space of acceptance to show appreciation to their struggles and triumphs. Where they shared stories that could shatter mountains. Break the spines of the strongest man. A testament to the strength yet to unlock within. The atmosphere in the room vibrated with a buzz for change and eagerness for the victories dreams are made of, a start worth fighting for…
The atmosphere in the room vibrated with a buzz for change and eagerness for the victories dreams are made of, a start worth fighting for…
The obstacles of an asylum seeker are many, with some facing catastrophic conditions. Hotels that have many tales that echo across the walls. An echo that scrapes at any essence of peace that is left to be found. A stubborn hammer that beats on the willful. A stark reality that weighs on the heart and soul, disrupting any thoughts of finding that comfort relief from the exhaustion of the day. A ghost of collective struggles, that of an overcrowded room, devoid of life. where insects, bugs and creatures alike coexist as uninvited companions. The stench of mould plaguing the air, a fragrance that is so pungent that you can’t help but be forced to accept its presence. This reality for some is where the shouts for help are often met with resistance and a cold shoulder. Where the nights are cold and stale, the loneliness creeps into the hearts of many, sorrows sinking deeper with each thump. With each Breathe.
But these women, despite these obstacles, find hope and choose to empower themselves by looking forward to brighter futures for their children. With the repeated hopeful plea of “Please let me stay in Newham” as Newham is the place they know. A place where they have cultivated systems and strong bonds of new found family and friends.
