Dear All,

A brief message to inform you all that the search engine has been launched on www.refunite.org

We are still testing, running through various scenarios and hence, the site is only available in English right now, though Portuguese will be added next week and the remaining large amount of languages will be added on an ongoing basis.

Feel free to poke your head around the site and have a look. It’s really rather cool!

Christopher

Refugees United

Dear All,

This is the scenario, which laid the foundation for the creation of Refugees United. Names, some places and many facts and figures have been left out to protect some of the people involved. If you have questions etc., feel free to contact us. It is a bit of a long story and is an outtake of a letter I sent to a friend, describing the situation which brought RU into this world.

In the year 2000 Mansour escaped the Taliban regime along with his brothers and sisters and parents. They journeyed out of Afghanistan and into Pakistan, arriving in Peshawar along with millions of other refugees. A witch’s pot of refugees, NGO’s, good Samaritans and predators on the hunt for cash from these destitute people.

Shortly after arriving, the family struck a deal with a human trafficker, paying 2,000 dollars per head to be expedited out of Pakistan and into a European country together. The trafficker explained that they would arrive at the same destination, but had to travel separately in order to minimize the risk of them all being caught. Mansour, at twelve being the eldest, was chosen to travel first. A journey, which began by foot, then train, plane, bus and walking again. A month and a half later, he dropped into the X central station, 12-years-old and all alone. Quickly he was picked up by the immigration authorities and shipped to an asylum center. For the first 2 months he sat by, waiting for his family, waiting for news, waiting for anything. As you of course know, nothing ever happened and as time carried on, his hopes quietly died down.

Five years passed before we met Mansour. By this time he had gained enough personal clout and driven himself up from the bottom of the system to being at the top of his class, well-liked by all and a wonderful and balanced human being. And he was ready to try and discover what had happened to his family, even if this meant finding out that they had perished in their attempt to escape. We decided that we’d certainly like to help him with this. So, we contacted the state, NGO’s and a host of other departments, agencies etc., only to realize this: No global registry had been established. No centralized point of info wherein all refugees across the globe could collect data and anonymously seek families. We saw the time this beginning search would take and decided to take matters into our own hands.

We quickly arranged for Mansour to go back to Peshawar, Pakistan, armed with a passport, money and a newfound sense of worth. He wanted to go back to see if he could dig up any information, find any leads or what have you. And to make a very long story a bit shorter, Mansour arrived in Peshawar and after a few days of wandering the streets and through complete, needle-in-the-haystack luck, he stumbled upon the trafficker who had shipped out his family nearly 5 years earlier. He immediately recognized him, cornered him and told him he was responsible for sending them out earlier. The trafficker replied that he sent out hundreds of families per year and could not remember any of this. Mansour kept pressuring him and finally, after being heftily bribed, asked Mansour to return the following day. So he did.

The trafficker quickly revealed that he indeed knew the whereabouts of X, one of Mansour’s younger brothers; nine-years-old at the time they had left Peshawar. He knew where he was, because he, the trafficker, had sold him into slavery to a family in X in Russia. A disastrous place to end up and not too far from the border of Chechnya.

Mansour asked for a phone number but was told this was impossible. He then tried again, offering a bigger bribe and of course this helped and afforded Mansour a phone number, though whereto he was unsure.

Mansour returned to X and we began calling the number, which turned out to be for an Afghan bazaar in X. We kept getting Russian speaking people, unable to communicate, until finally 3 weeks later, a Pashto speaking man answered and quickly said that yes, he might know an X fitting this description and gave us a new phone number. Through this number, we reached an older lady who indeed had X living with her. And then, for the first time in 5 1/2 years, Mansour and X came into contact with each other. The relief and joy was of course intense as the brothers had thought each other dead and had nearly given up the thought of ever finding family again. And here they were. This glare of joy thought quickly took on a shadow, as Mansour learned the horrible conditions X lived under. Working 16 hours a day for less than a dollar in a stateless situation where he had no papers and therefore wasn’t Russian or Afghan because he could prove nothing. This in turn led him to be wanted and easy prey for Russian police officers that routinely capture and torture him until a fellow Afghan pays a ransom to have him released. This in turn indebts X to this person, keeping him forever in a downward spiral of hopelessness. When X wasn’t captured by the police, he was in constant fear of the roaming squads of disaffected Russians who take their rage and despair out on the immigrant communities, beating them and oftentimes killing refugees for sheer entertainment. He lived in a hallway at the house of his ‘master’ and had to weather extreme cold during the winters and extreme heat in summer.
We wanted to bring the brothers together and began assessing the situation. Quickly we learned that it was out of the question for us to obtain a visa to go to X, so we had to ’smuggle’ X up to X, which is a 24 hour bus-ride and highly dangerous, given his lack of papers. In X, they are used to many refugees being illegal and you can pay your way out of it; in X, compassion is not a concept understood by all. Though terrified, X agreed to travel with his ‘master’ to X, after we agreed to pay the master. David, Mansour and I arranged for visas and travels, much looking forward to reuniting the brothers.

It was difficult getting visas for an Afghan but we managed and in October 2005, we flew into Russia, staying at an old KGB hotel called the X and awaiting information on how we could find X, who was stationed way over on the other side of town in a bazaar for Afghanis. X is truly one of the most depressive and haunted places I’ve been in my life, and I’ve been to a few. Gray, cold, void of life and completely without soul. Even though the poverty isn’t graver than in so many other places, many people radiate tiredness and a lack of spirit, which is truly disturbing. The grip of an empire’s iron rule over many years has left the city in a state of suspended living, with the uniformity of all buildings a binding concept that renders this depression a perpetuated timeline of misery. The hotel was under constant surveillance, with us having to pass checkpoints to get in there, surrendering your passport at the front desk and in general feeling like the cold war had in no way warmed at all, once you were on the inside.

But we tried to find out how to get to X, as he was too afraid of leaving his protected safe haven. However, after we tried to find this place time and time again, we had to give up and insist on X coming to us, despite the dangers this entailed. X is a huge, confusing place, which can be very hard to navigate when you don’t speak Russian. Seeing that there was no way around it X agreed and made the journey towards the X.

At 19.00 on October… , X stepped out of a taxi in twilight and saw his brother for the first time in nearly 6 years. I am seldom at loss for words, but for me to begin to explain the seconds that followed would only bear too many adjectives and pay no justice to the intense flood of emotions released. 6 years of fear, loneliness and desperately wanting to connect with any part of family came out in those seconds, and I swear, you could truly feel the air around us tighten and stop all time. Even writing about it now makes the hairs on my arms stand up. And we filmed it all. A point of undertaking this mission was also to document the hardships refugees had to endure in reconnecting with family, to show the world how millions of people are left out of the communications loop the rest of us enjoy.

Quickly we dressed X in our western clothes and ushered him past the security guards and settled the brothers into Mansour’s room, placing the Do Not Disturb sign on the door and ordering everything they had on the menu. We left them to catch up, share stories and speculate on the whereabouts of the rest of the family. None of them knew.

Come morning, X was too frightened to stay at the hotel and asked if we could all go to the bazaar. We agreed and by a special intervention from who knows what, David and I decided to leave our passports at the hotel and went by taxi across town to lodge at the bazaar. The journey was dangerous as two westerners with two Afghans immediately arouse suspicion, so it was paramount that the police didn’t spot us. And we made the journey, all the way to the front gates of the bazaar where we paid the cab, got out and in that instant an old, old Russian car screeched to a halt in front of us and out stepped 3 machinegun-toting police officers, demanding to see identity papers. Of course X didn’t have any and fear shone from him. Mansour did however and trying to protect his brother, he started showing papers and talking nervously. Quickly though, the police focused on David and I, seeing that we were likely to have more money. And, by luck, we had no passports and they immediately arrested us and threw us into the back of the car, along with a third Afghan they had already arrested. And so fervently happy were they to find to westerners without papers that they utterly forgot about Mansour and X, who escaped into the bazaar quickly thereafter and found safety. And off we drove; me, David, the Afghan and the 3 officers pointing their 1954 guns at us. They drove us to a field, robbed us of everything we owned and left us. But not after we had convinced them to release the third Afghan with us. And so we began the trek back to the bazaar. The police had radioed in to their colleagues that two brothers were there without papers, so if they wanted to add to their salary, they should come and arrest us again. So there we were, running back with this other kid, trying to beat time to make it before being picked up again. And only in the last second did we jump through the gates of the bazaar, before cars showed up with officers and dogs. So we hid inside, walking with the Afghans, meeting wonderful families, having lunch and completely stood out like to sore thumbs, because we were the only white people and obviously not Russians nor refugees.

The situation tensed up as more police arrived outside waiting for us. We did not know how to leave this place without being arrested again and had to make it back across town to our hotel, passports and safety. While we’re sitting in the restaurant, waiting for the best time to jump out and leave, a lady beside us died on the spot, falling forward and cracking open her head, lying on the floor. And none of us were allowed to touch her, having to adhere to the code of conduct and the controlled ethics that rule the place.

In the end, we arranged for a car to be parked at a loading dock, wherefrom Dave and I dove into the back seat as he pushed the pedal to the metal and sped out of there…At 40 kilometers an hour sitting in a Russian Volga.

But we slipped past them, came back to the hotel and once again wore the shields of the western world; the armor never offered the millions of people we’re trying to help. It felt both good and intensely sad.

Mansour stayed at the bazaar for the night, spending it with his brother, sharing their last time together. We had only been given 4 days visa, so the next day we had to fly back to X. We had given X as much money as we could, given him our clothes and were hopeful that he could spend the coming winter in doors so he wouldn’t have to roam the streets and be in danger of being caught.
We had witnessed his broken body, seen where the police had cut in him with bottles, burned him with cigarettes and broken his arms, ribs and legs. And out of some bizarre happenstance, X was a beautiful person, balanced, smiling, friendly. We had thought we’d be meeting a wreck, a ruined boy, but we found quite the opposite.
But now we had to say goodbye, Mansour going back to his plush life in X, while leaving his younger brother to the misery of Russia, the hardships of a life not fit for anyone. To say it was difficult is a gross understatement. It was so painful for Mansour that I wouldn’t want this visited upon the head of my worst enemy.

Back in X we began the quest of having X reunited physically with his brother in the EU. We contacted all the agencies again, the government, drew on our contacts and hired a lawyer. But fact is that we had paid for all this, had to pay for lawyers and we had no money to begin with, so our approach was limited. While performing all these tasks Dave and I discussed the fact that it had been so difficult, impossible, for us, two educated, influential and rich people relative to refugees, to find much information about how to find family. Nobody had helped us, nobody could and in the end we had to send Mansour back to Pakistan to find these clues. Why had no one established a global database? A centralized system wherein all could remain anonymous, seeing that fact is that few refugees can or will register with the systems that were in place, because they demanded refugee registry numbers, language proficiency, the ability to fill out forms, waiting periods and ALL refugees fear authorities and having to register full names and addresses. Few will do this as the thought of persecution follow them like a plague. So why wasn’t there a Google for refugees? A search engine giving these destitute people the power to take the search into own hands, to fill in no more than they were comfortable with? Why had no one empowered them with the simple measures we all enjoy in the developed world? In that moment we founded Refugees United and decided to do this differently, to approach the world of aid from a different angle. And so began the project.

It is all about communication, what we call information logistics. It’s all about information delivered to the right people at the right time. Information is empowerment and in this case, your words are donations. We hope you’re willing to help us bring this cause to those most in need.

All right all you good folks, the new blog design has been shipped off to the CMS themer, so all should be running in new style within a week.. Am definitely looking forward to bringing the blog itself to the heights of design featured on the website and coming database. Stay tuned..

Christopher

Dear All,

We’ve been exchanging pleasantries with the good folks over at blogcatalog.com and have registered our blog there as well. A cool site with great features and community spirit, so if you’re already there, come on and join us as friends, and if you’re not there, come join!

Be well,

Christopher

Dear All,

As you may have noticed, this blog is not quite up to par with the rest of the site. We’ve been deciding on which design to go with and all should be up and running in roughly a week. We’re also running through various beta tests of the search engine itself and are looking forward to unveiling it. Some more interesting partnerships will be unveiled in the coming weeks..

Be well,

Christopher

Dear All,

As you will have noticed by being on refunite.org we have unveiled parts of the new site. This is mainly a usability beta test, so no one has been ‘invited’ to browse the site just yet.  A major launch is coming.

We’re expanding the site, adding details and finishing the refugee search application, which should be ready in the coming weeks.

For further info and updates, keep yourself posted by visiting this blog. Many good things are to come.

Thank you for your time!

Refugees United

Dear All,

From a hectic Refugees United camp, a short report on the coming website and database!

We’re in the midst of a beta test of the search module, while putting the finishing touches on the design of the website itself! It’s turning out great and I’m pleased to tell you we’ll shortly be unveiling a refugee family finder nothing short of state of the art! Great investments of all kinds have been poured into the application during the last many months, and we’re more anxious than a 6-year-old the night before Christmas to bring our brainchild into the world. It should be less than 2 weeks until final kick-off!

14…13…12…11…10… Yes, it’s finally coming, and besides unveiling the search engine itself, we’ll be bringing you into the world of Refugees United and the formidable people and companies we have rallied behind us, to ensure our service reach the furthest corners of the world! You’ll be pleased…

Be back soon..

The Refugees United Team!

Dear All,

Sorry for the loooong delay in posting, but do check our MySpace, as the blog there is updated on a more frequent basis. Furthermore, certain issues are too cross-topic to warrant them being published on the refunite.org site!

Well, BIG NEWS! As of yesterday, Refugees United is in BETA TEST status! We have begun a major, thorough, in-depth renovation of the site, the search engine, the brand and the ease of sharing the service with the world, bringing www.refunite.org to a complete state of the art by the first months of 2008. We will be introducing a smoothed over, innovative site utilizing all available measures to help refugees across the globe.

We have worked hard and long to secure the right funding to develop the site, and will be sinking a substantial investment into the future of helping refugees reconnect with family and friends. To say we are excited would be a gross underestimate! YES! Welcome to the next chapter in the story of Refugees United. Stay tuned…

 Sincerely,

Christopher

 Refugees United Org.

Š

In this age of political fighting staged years ahead of relevance, we’re invited to dutifully revel in the pious past of future presidents: Love life revelations, High School years revisited, childhood friends drawn upon in quest for absolute truth, college years examined to the T, all in search of that tasty treat of ‘un-presidential’ or ‘un-official’ behavior. I Did Not Inhale.
But truth is, I’d prefer if they inhaled. I’d prefer if the world would stop hunting for squeaky-clean politicians, eeking out every little detail about their lives past. In my short, uninformed lifetime, I’ve so far learned that s/he who seems clean beyond reproach, is dirtier than most.
I wouldn’t want a 21-year-old CEO of my company, never having fired anyone, never having tasted failure, success, the darker sides of life and the absolute joy of being. Neither would I want a doctor fresh out of the 4th grade, with the experience harvested at this tender age. So why do we keep insisting that the people in charge of leading our world has to be as virginally ‘clean’ as a babe right out the womb? No wonder they’re all born again.

While we all need to know the true colors and capacities of those elected to lead us in life, ought there not be a natural limit to the voracity with which we seek information not really pertaining to their abilities in public office? When nothing is ’sacred’, what is ‘holy’? This perilous world of public scrutiny elicits the pursuit of the wrong goals, when adhering to the wrong aspirations of a life lived free of ’sin.’

Sinners and saints, without either, the other would cease to exist.

Christopher

Refugees United Org.

Politics of Hope vs. Politics of Fear.

Intrinsically, the political arena was created to reflect our core values in a channeled and focused way, a bid to correlate humanity to the world at large. This, by definition, should at least be the foundation upon which we govern ourselves.

Ideally, politics supply a legitimate forum in which to raise concerns and thoughts on progress for the future, a forum to appeal to the might of man and the collective consciousness in wanting to advance life. I know, a lofty concept of what is at best considered a government-sanctioned pirate’s lair, wherein the connected few exploit the blind faith bestowed upon them by the blind masses.

It is, I believe, in this discrepancy between man and politician the fault line of separation has been strung. Politicians should be paragons of community and humanity, not pariahs of self-serving efforts. Politicians should be of the people, for the people, not necessarily in means and money, but in the protection and promotion of interests that serve a nation, or better yet, a world, instead of a select few. But here is an undeniable truth: We are all politicians and advocates responsible for a better world!

By reneging the reins of our own destiny, leaving the entire responsibility in the hands of the evidently corruptible few, we have ostracized our personal observation of truth and conscientiousness in favor of a life void of brotherhood and compassion. But if man bears no promise to man, then we’ve founded a world upon lies.

Humanity has been rendered powerless in its own mind, led to understand that the ‘common’ citizen is a chess piece in a play greater than their influence of understanding. By this device, it has been no feat to cloak the eyes of the world with a blindfold of fear. For it is infinitely easier to remit the responsibility of being to the hands of the boisterous few who, unfortunately, far too often have not the opportunities of life at the top of their agenda. And far too often do we let go of this responsibility well knowing the nature of the wolf we’ve just led to watch our sheep.

But fear is the universal glue between the cowards of ignorance and convenient laissez-faire, while courage serves as the wings that holds the power to set truth free. But to believe in the latter, you must believe in your own capacity. And much, much more demanding, you must posses the will and determination to strive and work to change that with which you disagree. This is where the challenge lies: The perception of self.

Consider this: It takes no stretch of imagination to fathom and accredit the atrocities which the Nazi regime gave rise to in slaying millions of people in the name of sublime hate. The Third Reich was heralded and applauded by millions as the ultimate savior through the genocide of Jews and other ‘undesirables’. Yet ask of the world to visualize an existence of opportunity and equal chance, of compassion and growth through freedom of life, choice, faith and will, and you will face ridicule and the label of utopia and a common perception that it is simply not possible to go against the grain of ‘free’ enterprise and the forces that control our markets.

Why is this?

How can we so easily believe in these torturous deaths, while so easily dismissing the power of life? How can we defer to the notion of free enterprise and the forces of markets in the face of massacres?

I know why.

I just refuse to believe the driving force of life is based on the misery and death of others.

I know how I think the perception of mankind can be changed, but I’m sure you have a wealth of great ideas. I ask of you to share them with me, to bring me your thoughts of a better world and more importantly, how to get there. It takes no more than courage and a plan.

I thank you for your time!

Sincerely,

Christopher

Refugees United Org.