Tanja Klein Jung, our coordinator in Germany, visited the Karlsruhe community and shares her moving impressions of a day filled with humanity, compassion, and solidarity.
A Compassionate Community in Karlsruhe
In March, I had the opportunity to visit Sister Kordula and Sister Chantal at Maison Lavigerie in Karlsruhe. Both are part of a dynamic community of the White Fathers, actively and wholeheartedly engaged in helping refugees. They provide support, a listening ear, and genuine presence to those who have lost everything.
I’ve worked with the Sisters for several years, but often wondered what their daily life in Karlsruhe was really like. What does it truly mean to help people in such difficult circumstances? These questions had been on my mind for a long time, and I finally had the chance to spend an afternoon alongside Sister Kordula to witness her work.
A Powerful Encounter: Anne, a Refugee in Karlsruhe
That day, I met Anne, a young woman from Burkina Faso. Alone in Karlsruhe, she has no idea where her family is. Her eyes reflected fear, pain, and deep sadness. Her story moved me profoundly. She was quiet, cautious—almost fragile.
And me? I stood there, unsure of what to say. How do you speak to someone who has suffered so deeply? How do you meet them where they are?
We walked in silence. On the tram, we sat across from each other. Thoughts raced through my head. Sister Kordula, sitting a few seats away, gave us space. I thought to myself: “Tanja, you have to say something.”
But Anne didn’t speak German—only French. And I? I only knew a few words. Just enough to smile, but not enough to hold a conversation. Luckily, we had a translation app on our phones. Even though I didn’t understand everything, a mistranslated word made us both smile. And then came Anne’s genuine, warm smile—one of those rare and precious moments where humanity transcends language barriers.
Visiting the Karlsruhe Food Bank
Our next destination was the Karlsruhe food bank. Sister Kordula wanted to show Anne the way so she could return on her own later. It was my first time visiting a food bank. I’d never needed to go before. But that place opened my eyes.
I saw people who needed help, people fighting daily battles—often in the shadows. I felt ashamed for having taken so much for granted. Yet the warmth of the volunteers was overwhelming. One employee filled Anne’s basket without asking if she had enough money. That simple, human gesture touched me deeply. I wanted to thank him for his compassion.
Afterwards, Sister Kordula led us to a metal cabinet, one of many scattered across Karlsruhe. Volunteers regularly stock these community food cabinets with groceries. Local restaurants also contribute. It’s a quiet but powerful aid network, woven together by compassion and solidarity.
Beyond the Headlines: Refugees’ Real Stories
Finally, we accompanied Anne to her shelter, located near the hospital. Her room was simple: a bed, a table, a chair. No private bathroom or kitchen—just shared facilities. It was austere, almost bleak, but it was safe. She welcomed us in and placed her trust in us. I was deeply moved. Words failed me. Those few hours have stayed with me, and I still reflect on them often.
We often hear about refugees in the media, but we rarely hear their voices. Rarely do we see the invisible scars they carry. Even more rarely do we recognize the strength they show in continuing each day.
Later, Sister Kordula explained the daily hurdles: paperwork, medical visits, language classes—the many small steps needed to begin a new life here. It’s a long, difficult road. But it’s not one they walk alone. There are people like Sister Kordula, people who help, accompany, and simply show up.
And I wonder: What would Anne do if people like that didn’t exist?
