“I thought about my future children, who would ask where I was during one of the worst times in humanity. I wanted to say: At least I did something,” Iraqi by birth, Zainab Kufaishi was sharply reacquainted with her past when, years later, images of Syrians helping their children onto boats flashed before her. Her childhood in Baghdad brimmed with political unrest. Having endured two wars by the age of 10, when the Gulf War was over, her family left for Algeria, where they were faced with turmoil once again. “In the early ’90s, my parents made a snap judgement to apply for asylum in the UK,” she remembers. “I was slotted into the education system, completing my degree at Warwick University.”
For Kufaishi, perhaps more than most, the Syrian war struck a cord, “I thought about my family 25 years ago. I thought that it could have very easily been me if life had taken a different turn and we weren’t so lucky as to escape.”An Invesco employee working in Asset Management, her professional merits are typical of the success stories that punctuate the Middle East, yet dissatisfied with easy answers, Kufaishi wanted to do more than simply donate.
“When I asked my boss for a month of unpaid leave to volunteer, I was pleasantly surprised at how excited and positive he was,” she recounts. Part of a new wave of multinational companies to embrace this type of sabbatical, today’s employees are often encouraged to give back to the world, their experiences contributing to the CSR programmes that hold increasing importance in the ever-globalised workplace.
[pullquotes bg_image_id="35873" quote="It has made me more humble, more forgiving, more patient, and braver" quotee="Zainab Kufaishi"]
Navigating her way through Softex, the notorious Greek refugee camp, Kufaishi was there to offer aid to those who had been fortunate enough to make it to shore. Exposed to extreme conditions and intense suffering, she felt a minority. One of just two Arabic speakers amongst a larger group of European volunteers, to her it highlighted the disconnect between the two Middle Eastern worlds. “There are so few on the ground. I was especially saddened to see that,” she reflects. “We all did much needed work, but the Arabic speakers filled an emotional gap.
Our presence meant we could get projects done faster and according to what the refugees actually needed.” Aside from conflicts in communication, the days were long, and beyond the physical demands of distributions and translation, it was emotionally taxing. “The hardest part for me was seeing so many young children, out of school, playing in rubble and exposed to the growing cynicism and hopelessness of the future.”
Shattering an illusion that a career and humanitarian efforts might collide, Kufaishi reveals that the risk she took paid off in ways that she never imagined. “It has made me more humble, more forgiving, more patient, and braver. Seeing people in those types of situations gives you immense perspective.” As well as personal lessons, actions like Kufaishi’s have the power to spark critical dialogues, begging the question: What am I capable of? “One colleague in the UK donated the entire medical costs for a little girl at the camp who needed a vital operation,” she smiles. Of course, it’s clear that returning is not easy and detachment is not always possible. “I know that this is an ongoing situation, which may last several years. I plan to return early next year, and help in any way I can.”
