Have you ever read a nonfiction book or story and asked yourself how could this be a true story because there is no way all that could happen to one person?
That is exactly how I felt when I read David’s Story. A refugee from Sudan who experience more hardship and terror than any individual I’ve ever read about.
True we all have a story in which we could potentially throw a pity party for ourselves, but David’s story broke my heart.
I’ve always thought of refugee camps as a save haven, a place for the shunned to escape and avoid persecution. It never crossed my mind that sitting idly by was depressing, that camps had politics and that getting to a camp was dependent on luck.
David and his sister set out to seek refuge only to be captured, they escaped only to be taken advantage of and finally they made it to a camp only to find that their heads were wanted on a silver platter.
“We all argued. We couldn’t sleep well at night because no one was protecting us. We were lost children without parents or relatives.” How can refugee camps function in this way, throwing people together that share only their desire to survive, having different cultures, different languages and different views?
Forever I thought of refugee camps as an oasis for victims, now I see refugee camps as temporary homes that are often not so temporary. Filled with people barely living a semblance of a life, itching to return home, refugee camps are a solution, but not a glamorous one and not one I can put my full confidence in, how could I?