Making Them Known

There's a strange thing felt as one walks into a refugee camp. Gazing across the hundreds of tents, the vast expanse of mint green and white canvas crowding the horizon. Plastic potties dotting the edges of the area in a parade of despised necessity. Fences topped with razor wire, perhaps intended to keep some out or some in. It is a lot to visually and emotionally drink in! But the real challenge is walking up and down the endless rows of makeshift lives and making eye contact. Hollow, empty, forgotten, helpless and hopeless, void of all emotion, just trying to survive... These are the eyes that greet you.

These people have become my friends, nay, the family of my heart. They are beautiful. They are important. They are valuable. And they deserve to be heard, known, and given attention! That has been my goal these past months. Beyond any shadow of a doubt, I want them to know that they aren't completely forgotten and abandoned, or locked away as a dirty secret the world is trying to hide. That they are loved! Though it's hard, I want to listen to the details of their stories. Nearly all still drip with the blood of unstanched grief. It is heavy and it is hard, but they need it, and I've found that so do I.

So, without further ado, pieces of stories I now carry in my heart as a cry to my Abba:

Her baby was starving inside her due to the poor conditions of the camp, so the doctors took her two months early. For over a month she was unable to see her baby, as she had to return to the camp and her little one stayed in an incubator. Now they are together, but living as a refugee is hard enough for an adult, much less a teeny baby who's still forming things that should've grown in the womb. Now her sister, still living in her war-torn country, is facing the exact same situation, but without access to any medical care, nutrition, or help.

He, like everyone else, has been sleeping on a concrete floor for months now. Years spent as a fighter in his country have rendered his body scarred and ragged. Disc and nerve pain nearly have disabled this man, who is only in his late 20's, to the point where it's difficult to take care of his family.

Her family had to flee the war, leaving her unable to even begin high school. Years spent working in another country just to survive meant not being able to go to school. Now here she is, stuck ambiguously at the age of 17 years old, with a dream of being surgeon, with four years of school left before she can even think of going to university.


His father passed away senselessly, because no one in the camp cared to help. Suddenly he found himself thrust into the role of leading the family at a very young age. What seemed like the best idea led to entering hell on earth as they sit endlessly in another camp, praying their mother, with her deteriorating health, survives this ordeal.

They got married, and one year later had to flee to another country. For four years they sat in a camp there, waiting for the bombs to end and life to return back as it had been. It didn't, and now they find themselves in another country, in a camp where the conditions are ten times worse than previously. Six years of marriage are marked by five years in various camps and an inability to have a baby. The doctors say nothing is wrong, but the trauma and stress of the war and camps have rendered her unable to conceive.

She is three years old, but still doesn't speak any proper words. One of her ears and nostrils doesn't work, and she is plagued with chronic asthma. There is so much anger inside her that she often erupts in violent outbursts. Trauma from the war and life in the camps is all they know, but chances are high that there are ulterior problems at work in their little girl. Perhaps help could be acquired, but not here and maybe it will be too late when they are finally allowed to leave.

Once employed by the top salons in a beauty capital of the world, she now possesses nothing as she lives in squalor. Her husband, once an incredible fashion designer, has been reduced to sitting idly day after day. More than anything, they just want to be able to work again. Life is slipping away as they sit powerless to do anything.

In the tent directly behind hers, a group of single guys live, daily drinking and doing drugs. One night their tent caught fire, while she slept unknowingly with her small baby and husband only yards away. The police watched idly, and continue to do so as this group (and others) abuse the weak and lonely. Each night her husband stays awake so she can sleep with their baby in their unprotected tent that has no lock. Consequently, he then must sleep all day as she tries to entertain their child with no toys and no proper food.


For night months he hasn't seen his wife, as she's been living far away with their young son. Trapped in a camp with their four daughters, he feels powerless to be able to help her or unite his family.

I could go on and on with stories about women being raped following watching their husband being murdered- never to know if the child she bore was his or not, or those who've watched family members be blown to pieces in front of their eyes, or countless other unspeakable horrors. Their stories are raw and gory, filled with the stains of gross sins committed against them. And instead of healing and comfort, they've been given the gift of more pain, more fighting, more survival, more hate, and being forgotten.

I plead with you: don't shut your eyes, don't turn away, don't forget! Be a part of ripping the disgusting bandage off that the world has used to try to silence and cover up these stories. May your heart be the one that these vacant eyes come to behold.