After the refugees arrived, a series of meetings were held with the local administration and head of financial affairs, during which they were able to discern a few problems in their current strategy. Thankfully, they had carefully reexamined and addressed the support system in place, which had prevented any widespread chaos.
Claudia and Virgil waited until the refugees were sufficiently settled before going to see them. The refugees were staying at the facilities formerly occupied by the Arakanerians. It was perfectly suited to accommodate the refugees, which was why her father and his administration decided to repurpose the place. This also meant pausing the islanders’ training program for the foreseeable future.
Claudia and her entourage left her family’s estate early that morning and arrived at the training facility before noon. Upon climbing out of her carriage, she found that the air was so dry, dust rose up in clouds around them. An overwhelming number of refugees inundated the training facility, and so the officials had built emergency shelters alongside it.
There was still enough of a chill in the air that Claudia was wearing her heavy coat. Virgil soon joined her after disembarking from his own carriage. The local director joined them on their inspection and filled them in.
A makeshift plaza had been set up in front of the facility, and it was overflowing with people. Yet despite how many were present, the place was dour and eerily lifeless. The refugees’ eyes were hollow. They were more like a herd of cattle clustered in the shadows of a pasture to take a rest.
Claudia couldn’t tear her eyes away. I can’t believe this many people were driven from their homes.
The air carried a cloying odor. Some of it was dust and dirt, but beneath that was something fouler than manure.
I recognize this smell.
Ruki had guided her around the slums once, though only the cleanest areas were maintained with the financial support of their government. Not even Rose Garden was entirely sure of what lurked in the darkest parts of the slums, so to avoid health concerns, she wasn’t allowed to visit those places.
Even so, she’d gotten a glimpse beyond the simple, temporary shelters the people had constructed out of lumber. There were heaps of wood waste, tattered clothes, and rotten food, from which emanated a putrid smell. It wouldn’t have mattered whether she had permission or not; her instincts had screamed at her to give those corners a wide berth. She’d doubted her ears when Ruki informed her that there were, in fact, people who lived in those places too.
This odor was the same. It spoke to the cruelty of their voyage, made with only the clothes on their backs. They hadn’t even had the opportunity to wash themselves.
“I notice there are still some hygiene issues,” commented Claudia.
“Yes,” agreed the local director. “As embarrassing as it is to admit this, we distributed a change of clothes for everyone, but the refugees seem hesitant to wear them without washing up first.”
“Wouldn’t most people want to change into clean clothes?”
The director gave her a wan smile, as if struggling with the difficulty of giving a succinct explanation. “We would, certainly. We’re conscious of the importance of hygiene, which is why we prioritize cleanliness. We also know the consequences that can come from people being clustered together in unhygienic conditions. The same cannot be said of the refugees.”
Having the same faith did not guarantee equal development between two nations. What was common sense in Harland wasn’t necessarily common sense in the conflict zone. That went for Bari too. Additionally, leaders such as Claudia or even the local director tended to be more knowledgeable than the average person about hygiene and the like. The church’s doctrine did emphasize the importance of cleanliness, but what constituted cleanliness was left up to interpretation.
“The biggest issue is that the refugees still don’t trust us,” said the director. “Since they aren’t certain they’ll get another set of clothing, they think they need to save what they have.” They probably didn’t want to dirty the clean set they’d been given either. “As much as we’d like to discuss how we can better meet their needs, the deacon who accompanied them is deeply fatigued from the journey. We don’t want to overburden him. It will take some time, but if we regularly provide for the refugees, it’s our hope that we will eventually earn their trust.”
If the refugees were assured they would receive another set of clothes, they would be less worried about the ones they already had. Once they moved into the temporary housing, they would be able to launder their own clothing as well. That would make it even easier for them.
There was another solution. If they were worried about dirtying their clothes, then with a proper wash, that hesitation would go away. Unfortunately, that was also an issue. The facility wasn’t equipped with a bathing area. At best, they could draw hot water and wipe themselves down—but even that would be difficult, considering the manpower required to heat water for this many people. The director and his subordinates were hesitant to employ the refugees for the task, as it was impossible to predict what problems might crop up due to cultural differences. Instead, they prioritized children and the elderly, the most vulnerable groups. This also provided an opportunity to conduct a health exam.
Scanning the plaza, Claudia realized that the children were the only ones moving around. Unlike the adults, they were clad in their new clothes and running about energetically. The fact that they had adapted was as good an indication as any that they were making progress, even if it was slow.
I can understand why our citizens are nervous, though. There were enough refugees to populate an entire town. It was one thing to view a number on paper, and another entirely to see it with one’s own eyes.
Without realizing it, Claudia had reached for her bracelet, fingers running over the Lindsay Blue sapphire. Could she really give these people hope? Was that truly within her capabilities?
To prevent her mood from sinking further, she asked the director, “Why are so many people gathered outside the facility?”
Spring was fast approaching, but it was still cold outside. There were fires to provide heat for the refugees, but staying inside had to be the warmer option.
“It’s a little too cramped for comfort inside, since we’re over capacity.”
Originally, they had planned to assign four people to a room, but they had more than doubled that number. Families were grouped together, so there weren’t many strangers stuck with one another, but the people preferred to be outside.
“However,” the director went on, “we realize it’s cold outside. The elderly are being kept indoors. Soon, we’ll be assigning work to those who are physically able.”
Not being able to provide for oneself could be stressful. The director and his staff had first prioritized the refugees’ basic needs, such as food and sleep. They needed to know it was safe so they could rest at ease. With that taken care of, the people would soon start to wonder about their futures. Those who could would want to work. They might have been refugees now, but in their homeland, they had led normal lives, with normal jobs. Their country of residence might have changed, but they would want to return to the comfort of regular life as soon as possible.
“We will begin by introducing them to our culture to smooth over any clashes,” said the director.
The refugees shared the same doctrine and could communicate, though only about basic, essential things. There were many subjects that required translation. Their deacon doubled as a translator when necessary.
The director had deep circles under his eyes. Claudia offered him words of encouragement for his efforts as they headed into the facility. It was critical to have people like him, who were understanding of cultural differences.