I had the opportunity to live in Berlin for a year. I made friends with a group of Yemen students. All of these people had friends, family or relatives bombed to death. Over the course of 2 weeks, one person lost 3 relatives to the bombings…
These people were sent to Germany to study and be as far away as possible from the horrors at home. Away from friends, family, everyone.
I was told that after flying to somewhere near Yemen, it would have taken another 16 hours to travel by road to get home. Their parents refused them coming to visit because it was just too dangerous.
I don’t know how they managed to hold their shit together and carry on even as their families were getting bombed back home.
It broke my heart and I felt powerless to even attempt to comfort them. I’m sure they felt a sense of powerlessness that’s beyond anything I could understand at that time.
It’s crazy when you realize, “oh, shit, they’re just people.” I don’t mean it in an insulting way. I had that experience, too. Travel certainly helps. It’s not even necessarily that you don’t believe that before, just maybe that you didn’t know or hadn’t even thought about it, because who can know everything. But then what was previously vague/unfamiliar words in sporadic headlines in the background is suddenly very real and personal, standing in front of you. It’s a gut punch.
I had the opportunity to live in Berlin for a year. I made friends with a group of Yemen students. All of these people had friends, family or relatives bombed to death. Over the course of 2 weeks, one person lost 3 relatives to the bombings…
These people were sent to Germany to study and be as far away as possible from the horrors at home. Away from friends, family, everyone.
I was told that after flying to somewhere near Yemen, it would have taken another 16 hours to travel by road to get home. Their parents refused them coming to visit because it was just too dangerous.
I don’t know how they managed to hold their shit together and carry on even as their families were getting bombed back home.
It broke my heart and I felt powerless to even attempt to comfort them. I’m sure they felt a sense of powerlessness that’s beyond anything I could understand at that time.
It’s crazy when you realize, “oh, shit, they’re just people.” I don’t mean it in an insulting way. I had that experience, too. Travel certainly helps. It’s not even necessarily that you don’t believe that before, just maybe that you didn’t know or hadn’t even thought about it, because who can know everything. But then what was previously vague/unfamiliar words in sporadic headlines in the background is suddenly very real and personal, standing in front of you. It’s a gut punch.
I love living in a multicultural place. I think I’ve personally met someone from almost every country on earth.
I realized I very much do, too, as I got older and had more say in the matter, but I didn’t grow up like that.
Me neither. Makes me appreciate it more, I think.
To think, we can have all that right here in the US of A.
Thanks MAGA!