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Please watch this short film Ordinary Treasures: Objects from Home first then progress to read our piece. This short film co-created by Dublin City University Irish Refugee Network asks the simple question, “If you had to leave home, what one object would you bring with you?“
Introduction: Objects in the Maelstrom
“Every object tells a story if you know how to read it.”
Henry Ford
In the heart of Dublin City University, a room hums with the energy of co-creation and laughter. This space, usually reserved for language classes, transforms into a crucible where stories of loss, survival, and hope intermingle. Brightly colored couches, positioned in each corner, offer cozy sanctuaries amid the bustling energy of the space. The walls, adorned with posters showcasing different languages and cultures, reflect the richness of the tapestry of diverse worlds and ways of being that fill the room. The corridor outside hums with activity as individuals eagerly anticipate the learning journey that awaits them. Yet, within this busy environment, there exists a palpable sense of shared anticipation for something beyond the ordinary. We have come together to share, to design and to produce an anti-racist film. We initially came together through DCU Irish Refugee Network’s daily English classes for the forcibly displaced. Among this collaborative tapestry, a cameraman navigates the space with silent, almost reverent purpose. His camera, an unobtrusive observer, captures the essence of objects that bear witness to homes and worlds left behind. Each object, from a flag bearing the blood of national turmoil to the gentle chime of a Tibetan sound bowl, tells a vivid, complex story of conflict and forced displacement.
Ordinary Treasures: Objects from Home is a short film that delves into the intimate and powerful stories of international protection applicants and refugees in Ireland, centering on the personal objects they chose to bring with them when fleeing conflict and persecution. These items, ranging from family heirlooms to everyday belongings, serve as tangible links to past identities, homes, and loved ones, embodying both the trauma of displacement and the resilience of survival.
Set against the backdrop of growing anti-immigrant sentiment in Ireland, the film serves as a form of everyday activism. It challenges viewers to confront the lived realities of forced displacement, cultivating “relationships of discomfort” that push beyond ignorance and apathy. Through this lens, Ordinary Treasures not only documents personal stories but also advocates for a deeper solidarity with those who have been displaced.
We chose to focus on personal objects to highlight the power of objects to capture and evoke universal human experiences—attachment, memory, and loss—that transcend cultural and national boundaries. By placing these objects at the heart of our narrative, we reveal how they embody the deep connections that bind us all, no matter our origin.
This approach starkly contrasts with the divisive forces of nationalist identity politics, particularly those driven by far-right movements, which often thrive on exclusion and difference. Instead of highlighting what sets us apart, our film harnesses the power of these cherished objects to celebrate the shared bonds that connect us as human beings.
Herein, we reflect on the quiet power of six objects—a Nicaraguan flag, a Tibetan sound bowl, a pair of dancing shoes, two necklaces, and a well-worn coat. These items, fragile yet potent, hold the weight of entire lives, embodying the resilience and hope that persist even in the most uncertain of times. They are not just things; they are lifelines, tethering their owners to the homes they have left behind, to identities shaken by upheaval, to memories that refuse to fade, and to emotions too deep for words. For those who carried these objects as they fled their countries, these items are far more than mere possessions—they are extensions of the self, telling stories of who they are and who they once were.
Through the narrative of these six objects, we uncover the intricate layers of forced displacement, revealing how personal belongings evolve into profound symbols of memory, survival, and hope. Each object tells a story, exposing the complex dance between everyday materials, the upheaval of displacement, and the enduring will to survive.
A Nicaraguan Flag: Protest and Activism
“It is the mending that matters.”
Adam Phillips
In the quiet of early morning, the first rays of light pierce through the dim of our DCU classroom. They catch on the vibrant hues of a Nicaraguan flag. The owner, once a student activist, has carefully unpacked a flag from its special wrapping, all of its experiences neatly folded away and brought to Ireland in this way. This particular Nicaraguan flag carries a story beyond its typical jingoistic symbolism. The bold blue and white stripes, centered by a coat of arms depicting volcanoes, a rising sun, and a rainbow, are marked by the stains of protest. Its frayed edges speak to the struggles it has witnessed, holding the memory of hands that clutched it in defiance. For its owner, this flag is more than just fabric; it is a powerful emblem of the fight for freedom from dictatorship. Objects often carry the essence of our dreams, hopes, and identities, and in this case, the flag transcends its material form to embody a deeply personal struggle for justice and the unyielding spirit of a woman who, despite being displaced, carries her home within.
Thus, in this new light, in this new place, the flag weaves a future where the fabric of the owner’s old world colors the new. In this delicate dance of light and shadow, the flag whispers a truth in withstanding the challenges of forced displacement, we mend, we endure, and indeed, it is, ultimately, the mending that matters most.
A Tibetan Sound Bowl: Echoes of Resistance and Peace
“You may be exhausted from holding things and be disheartened and even weep if you are very emotional, which could be anyone on any day with good reason, but then there is the next moment and the next day and hold on.”
Maira Kalman
With a rolling caress of a stick on the brushed metal, the Tibetan sound bowl fills our classroom with a gentle resonance, enveloping the space in a soothing blanket of tranquility. The delicate tones ripple through the room, turning it into a sanctuary of calm. This sound bowl, a relic of spiritual rituals and serene monasteries, now rests in the hands of a woman displaced because of conflict. Each chime is a reminder of a peace that once was, a meditative echo that transcends borders and brings a semblance of the familiar to an otherwise alien environment. The sound bowl acts as a bridge between worlds, offering its Ukrainian owner a rare moment of peace and healing, even as her thoughts remain tethered to the turmoil in her homeland. This bowl, like many objects, carries with it a soothing presence that helps her find a semblance of calm amidst the constant worry and uncertainty of displacement. The sound bowl and its owner teach us the power of holding on, of moving through moments of despair to the potential of the next. It exemplifies that in the journey of healing and adaptation, the sounds we choose to surround ourselves with can shape our path, offering peace and continuity of a kind. The resonant sounds from the bowl produce a pitch that gently shifts into a realm suggestive of healing, softly filling the space with a tranquil aura. Every chime of the bowl, therefore, is not just a call to mindfulness but a gentle reminder that though we may be “exhausted from holding things” and at times, utterly disheartened, there is always the next moment, the next day, and in them, the promise of renewal.
Dancing Shoes: Steps of Joy and Memory
“The dance is a poem of which each movement is a word.”
Mata Hari
In the corner of the classroom, beneath the dim glow of a solitary lamp, lies a pair of worn canvas dancing shoes. These shoes, scuffed at the soles and frayed at the edges, are silent witnesses to countless nights of festivity and dance in a homeland now distant. They are remnants of joy, of community gatherings under starlit skies, where music and laughter drowned out the whispers of impending upheaval.
For their owner, these dancing shoes are more than mere footwear; they are repositories of joy and cultural expression, talismans against the despair that often accompanies forced displacement. Objects often serve as active agents in social relationships. These dancing shoes exemplify just this, serving as connectors to a community and way of life left behind. They extend the dancer’s identity beyond the confines of displacement, enabling a reconnection with a self that once danced freely, unburdened by the weight of current circumstances. These dancing shoes are reminders that even in the face of loss, the capacity for agentive joy remains, embedded in the rhythms and dances of a culture that survives within forced displacement.
As if the shoes called forth the music to which they most often danced, their owner begins to sing as we gaze upon their form. These dancing shoes, marked by wear and tear, move softly through the long grass, each step a quiet testament to daily survival. Through these rhythms, the owner of the shoes reclaims her joy, honoring her ancestors and affirming that despite the darkness of forced displacement, her spirit dances on, unbroken.
Necklaces: Links to Love and Memory
“Objects we love become us.”
Orhan Pamuk
Draped over the back of a classroom chair are two necklaces, each a delicate filament linking the present to the past. One, a simple chain with a beautiful gold heart, a gift from a mother’s loving hands; the other, a thickly crafted chain, a token of affection from a cherished family member. These necklaces, in their unassuming elegance, carry the weight of relationships that have profoundly shaped the wearers’ identities, serving as tangible reminders of love and kinship that endure despite the hardships of forced displacement.
These necklaces are more than just adornments; they are lifelines to the past, imbued with the narratives of their wearers’ lives. Unlike the flag or the sound bowl, which connect their owners to broader cultural, spiritual or political identities, these necklaces are deeply personal, intimate links to loved ones left behind. Each time the wearers feel the weight of the pendant against their skin, they are reminded of the hands that once clasped these necklaces around their necks, reinforcing a bond that distance cannot sever.
In quiet moments before a mirror, the necklaces do more than reflect light; they reflect the wearers’ histories, capturing in their glint the love, loss, and continuity of relationships that have shaped their identities. These small, personal items hold immense emotional significance, serving as tangible connections to a sense of belonging that persists, even in the most challenging of environments.
A Coat: Cloak of Comfort and Protection
“Outside
outside myself
there is a world
. . . subject to my incursions”
William Carlos Williams
In the serene expanse of a well-known Dublin park, where the afternoon sun weaves through the leaves to sketch a mosaic of light and shadow upon the earth, our short film focuses on a poignant moment. The camera captures the silhouette of a figure enveloped in a coat that has traversed continents—a garment worn thin by the passage of time and the rigors of forced displacement. This coat, a silent guardian against the elements, has also become a bastion against the strangeness of new and challenging experiences, wrapping its wearer in the comforting embrace of what once was.
Each thread and crease of the coat narrates endurance, a chronicle of seeking and hope. As the camera lingers on the subtle interplay of light and shadow dancing across the coat’s surface, it transforms the simple fabric into a living testament to the journey of forced displacement. Here, Jean Baudrillard’s insight that objects form an integral part of our system of meaning resonates deeply—the coat transcends mere function to embody protection and comfort. It stands not only as a shield against the cold but as a carrier of warmth from an old world into a new one, offering both physical and emotional solace.
The scene widens, placing the solitary figure against the verdant backdrop of the park, the coat becoming a powerful visual metaphor for displacement: a lone individual finding solace in the familiarity of an object from a life left behind, yet standing resilient in a new setting. The dappled light, with its interplay of visibility and obscurity, mirrors the complex journey of navigating a new existence while clinging to the threads of home. This coat, whether hung on the back of a chair or draped over its owner, remains a poignant emblem of survival and a whisper of continuity amidst the flux of new beginnings.
Final Reflections: The Symphony of Ordinary Treasures
“It has been an important experience to see how people can take ordinary things and transform them into meaningful symbols. We can create aesthetic experiences by paying attention to what’s around us, finding the beauty in things that you normally pass over.”
This essay and its accompanying short film show the remarkable ability of objects to comfort, transport and keep steadfast. The ordinary treasures detailed herein do more than occupy physical space; they fortify. Each artifact—the bloodstained Nicaraguan flag, the resonant Tibetan sound bowl, the scuffed dancing shoes, the heirloom necklaces, and the well-worn coat—serves as more than just a relic of the past. These objects, while outwardly ordinary, carry extraordinary significance, functioning as anchors that tether their owners to a sense of continuity amidst disruption. In the midst of displacement and uncertainty, they provide essential grounding, allowing their owners to navigate the unfamiliar terrain of a new life while maintaining ties to their former selves.
The stories herein thus reveal the role that material culture plays in the experience of displacement. They show us that in the face of loss and upheaval, it is often the simplest, most ordinary things that carry the weight of our identities, memories, and hopes. These items, imbued with personal significance, become more than just possessions—they are vessels of continuity, resilience, and belonging. Through them, we see how the tangible can anchor us even when we are adrift in a sea of uncertainty, offering not just a connection to the past, but a newly marked pathway. In the stories of these objects, we uncover narratives not only of loss and uprooting but also of persistent strength, enduring hope, and the indomitable nature of human connection and kinship. They stand as reminders that, despite the vast uncertainties that life brings, our core selves can often manage to remain intact, in part held together by the objects we cherish, the memories they evoke and the sense of place in the world that they denote. Inspired by Maira Kalman’s appreciation for the simple yet significant act of holding on, we imagine our work as a resonant tribute—a love song, if you will—to those who, in the face of adversity, cling to the fragments of their past, knitting them into the fabric of a better future.