Struggling to Adapt as an Immigrant

A little over a week ago, I travelled to Spain. The trip had a special purpose: to check in on someone I care about who recently started a new life there. A person who had to leave everything behind in search of safety and dignity. Together with some friends, we had supported him in making the move, knowing how urgent and necessary it was. But even knowing that, I was not fully prepared for what I saw and felt.

Being a migrant is never easy. And if you are naturally shy and fearful of being ridiculed, it becomes even harder. Despite having a circle of support and some stability, he is confronting challenges I had never truly imagined. The popular narrative focuses so much on learning a new language, adapting to a new culture, navigating new streets and systems. That, in fact, can be the easiest part. It is often even exciting. What is far more difficult is managing your vulnerabilities and fears in an environment that, for now, is unfamiliar and unforgiving.

What I witnessed was the emotional weight of having to prove yourself constantly. The pressure from people left behind to succeed at any cost—because failure is not an option when others depend on you to survive. The inner shame of not having completed an education, of watching locals casually reference their prestigious universities and career paths, when all you ever had was the resilience to survive. It is the heavy, quiet pain of being poor in a place that often equates worth with material success. Of feeling judged just for being from “elsewhere.”

It is also about the dependencies that emerge. Feeling obliged to constantly express gratitude for even the smallest of favours, afraid that if you don’t, you will be abandoned, cut off, or seen as ungrateful. It is about a life where dignity sometimes feels conditional. And, above all, it is about the loneliness—profound and lingering—and the ache of missing home, even when home was difficult. That kind of homesickness does not always go away. It just finds quieter corners to live in.

But there is also joy. There is joy in small triumphs: in navigating bureaucracy, in finding work, in being able to pay rent, in understanding a joke in a new language, in taking the metro to a new part of town. There is joy in growing, in building a life little by little, in learning how to trust again. That joy is real. And it must be celebrated.

Still, it is hard. And for those of us who are part of the communities that receive migrants, even when our intentions are good, we often forget the quiet battles they fight every day. We don’t always see the fear, the shame, the pressure, the silent grief. We think they are lucky. But we forget that even freedom comes with a cost when you are vulnerable.

So here is a gentle reminder: let’s not take kindness for granted. Let’s not assume that someone’s quietness is indifference or ingratitude. Let us do all we can to listen more carefully, to understand more deeply, and to be just a little softer with one another. Because we never know the weight someone else is carrying—and sometimes, kindness is the only thing that makes the weight bearable.

Mum's Place in Nowy Sacz, Poland, May 2024

These days, the world seems to be spinning into chaos. Politically, we are witnessing events we could never have even imagined, and it is unsettling, to say the least. The unpredictability of global affairs is truly alarming. Yet, in the midst of all this, I have been trying to keep myself grounded. Work has been my anchor—I have focused on doing it well and ensuring that I remain engaged in what I can actually influence. At the same time, I have been allowing myself some excitement because, tomorrow, I am off to Spain!

I will be visiting Leo, Marta, and her family, which I have been looking forward to for quite some time. For a week, I will be exploring Madrid and Seville, enjoying the vibrancy of these incredible cities, catching up with friends, and simply taking in the beauty of Spain. I can already imagine the bustling streets of Madrid, the charming alleyways of Seville, and the joy of simply being in a place that is so full of history and energy.

Adding to my good mood is the fact that I have now finalised my plans for a longer holiday at the end of April and into May. I will start by travelling to Nowy Sącz in Poland to spend time with Mum and family, something that always brings me great joy. This time, however, we have decided to do something special and travel together. After spending a few days in Poland, we will be heading to Malta!

Malta has always intrigued me with its stunning coastline, ancient history, and Mediterranean charm. From Valletta’s grand fortifications to the picturesque streets of Mdina, I am eager to discover what this island has to offer. Exploring its history, savouring the food, and simply enjoying the sea views with Mum will be an unforgettable experience.

After Malta, we will set off on another adventure—Uzbekistan. This is a destination that has long been on my list, and I can hardly believe that I will finally be visiting. Tashkent, the country’s capital, is known for its mix of Soviet-era architecture and Islamic heritage. But what excites me the most is visiting Samarkand. The city’s magnificent blue-tiled mosques and madrasas, particularly Registan Square, are among the most breathtaking sights in the world. Walking through its ancient streets and immersing myself in the history of the Silk Road is something I have dreamt of for years.

While in Tashkent, we also have an exciting plan—a day trip to Shymkent in Kazakhstan. This will be my first time visiting the country, and I am eager to see what it has in store. Though I know little about Shymkent, I am looking forward to experiencing a new culture, tasting Kazakh cuisine, and taking in a part of Central Asia that is still relatively unexplored by tourists.

The sheer thought of all these upcoming travels makes me incredibly happy. Not only am I visiting places that I have always wanted to see, but I get to do it with Mum, which makes it even more special. Travelling with her is always a joy, and I cherish the time we spend together on the road.

With Spain just around the corner and a grand adventure awaiting in a couple of months, I feel grateful and excited. Despite all the turmoil in the world, I am holding onto these moments of joy, exploration, and connection. After all, there is still so much beauty to experience, and I intend to embrace it fully.

Supporting One Another in the Times of Chaos

The past few weeks have been incredibly busy and, at times, overwhelming. The dramatic shifts in the US government’s stance on funding international aid, particularly humanitarian aid, are having a devastating and far-reaching impact on the most vulnerable communities worldwide. These abrupt policy changes are not only endangering lives and safety but also shaking the very foundations of international cooperation and stability.

The consequences for those who rely on humanitarian aid are profound. Millions of people who depend on life-saving assistance now find themselves at even greater risk. Whether it is food security, medical aid, shelter, or protection services, the sudden withdrawal or reduction of funding has immediate and catastrophic effects. Refugees, internally displaced people, and communities affected by conflict and natural disasters are left without essential support. The organisations working on the ground are forced to make impossible decisions—who to help and who to leave behind.

In Venezuela, the situation is particularly dire. With an already fragile humanitarian landscape, any disruption in aid poses immense challenges. Alongside my colleagues from various humanitarian organisations, we are working tirelessly to continue our programmes while also seeking ways to mitigate the impacts of these new policies. The pressure is immense, and the stakes are high. We are witnessing increased malnutrition, worsening health crises, and heightened vulnerability among displaced populations. Additionally, the lack of funding means that crucial health and education programmes for children, nutritional support, and access to clean water are all at risk of being severely cut or discontinued. The impact will not only be immediate but will also have long-term consequences, particularly for communities already suffering from economic instability and displacement.

The repercussions of these policy shifts are not confined to Venezuela. In Gaza, where an already dire humanitarian crisis has been exacerbated by ongoing conflict and blockade, cuts in funding mean further shortages in essential medical supplies, food assistance, and shelter support. Hospitals, already operating under extreme duress, now face even greater challenges in treating the wounded and sick. The situation continues to deteriorate, leaving civilians with little hope for immediate relief.

In the Democratic Republic of Congo, decades of conflict have led to one of the world’s most prolonged humanitarian crises. The sudden reduction in aid threatens vital health services, particularly in areas affected by ongoing violence and displacement. The disruption of food and nutrition programmes could worsen already alarming levels of malnutrition, particularly among children. Meanwhile, those seeking refuge from armed groups find themselves with even fewer resources to survive.

Sudan, which has been struggling with political instability and an ongoing humanitarian emergency, is also facing a worsening crisis due to funding cuts. The fragile peace agreements in certain regions are at risk of collapse as essential humanitarian interventions, including food distribution and medical services, become more uncertain. The potential for renewed displacement and worsening famine conditions is a very real and immediate concern.

In Afghanistan, where humanitarian needs have skyrocketed following the Taliban’s return to power, the withdrawal of international assistance places millions of people at even greater risk. The country has already suffered from economic collapse, with aid agencies acting as a critical lifeline for millions. Cuts in funding are likely to impact emergency healthcare, food distribution, and education support, with women and children bearing the brunt of the consequences.

Bangladesh, which hosts nearly one million Rohingya refugees in overcrowded camps, also faces a humanitarian setback. The Rohingya crisis remains one of the most protracted refugee situations in the world, and a reduction in funding will further strain the already limited resources available for shelter, healthcare, and food assistance. Without continued support, the likelihood of increased suffering, disease outbreaks, and malnutrition among the refugee population rises significantly.

Yet, the stress extends beyond operational concerns. Many of my colleagues—both national and international staff—are losing their jobs and livelihoods. The loss of funding means programme closures, layoffs, and reduced capacity to deliver aid. For many, especially those from countries with limited job opportunities, the consequences are devastating. It is incredibly disheartening to see how the decisions of a few policymakers can so rapidly dismantle livelihoods and throw entire communities into deeper uncertainty.

But the impact goes beyond aid programmes and job losses. The new US policies are reshaping global alliances and undermining international structures. Economic hostilities towards Canada, China, Mexico, and the EU, alongside territorial threats towards Canada, Panama, and Greenland, further destabilise global security. Threats towards Palestine, Ukraine, and European allies, with potential repercussions in Asia and Africa, add to the sense of an impending crisis. Looking at the scale of these developments, one cannot help but wonder whether we are inching closer to World War III.

In times like these, it is difficult not to feel powerless. Grand political manoeuvres are beyond our control. Yet, in all of this, we do have a role to play. Perhaps now more than ever, simple acts of kindness, solidarity, and humanity matter. Looking after one another, offering a helping hand, standing up to hatred and intolerance—these actions carry weight. As we move towards an uncertain future, perhaps there is still an opportunity to hold onto something good, to strengthen our bonds, and to persist in making the world a little better in whatever ways we can.

Through all the chaos, I have found some solace in writing. I have recently finished revamping my photo albums, adding more detailed descriptions and organising my memories in a more structured way. You can find the links to all my albums here: https://www.romanmajcher.eu/blog-2/files/7d9a8e4ebb1ee5b2dbdf379b7235313b-141.html. This process has been a step towards something bigger—hopefully, the beginning of writing a memoir or a book. The stories in these albums will serve as the foundation, helping me to be more systematic in my recollections and ensuring that important moments are not lost.

Despite the challenges, there are still things to look forward to. Soon, I will be heading to Spain for one-week break. Madrid will be my main base, where I will spend time with Leo, as well as Marta and her family. If all goes well, we are also hoping to travel to Sevilla—a city I have long wanted to visit. The anticipation of travel, even if only for a short period, is a source of joy amidst the chaos.

Difficult times lie ahead, but we must keep trying. Perhaps, in the face of adversity, there is still a chance for resilience, for new beginnings, and for hope.