Our little room at the UNHCR compound is far from luxurious, but it’s close to comfortable. We have beds with foam mattresses, a fan, and just enough space to have all of our stuff piled in there. The restrooms are not exactly what I’m used to in the US, but they do the job. Even with those close-to-comforts, I felt really tired yesterday and overall a little off.
I was hot all day and night; I was thirsty the whole time; and my muscles ached—not sure why. Out at the camp, it was not a fun day. There were barely any refugees out, with most of them hiding from the heat. There was wind that blew sand in to our eyes, and there was an overall depressed feeling out there. I know, of course, that the feeling was coming from me.
The people of Oure Cassoni confront this reality every day. They go to sleep and wake up to a new day with not much new to expect. They still smile, and they welcome us, and they want to give us water. They are resilient. I feel pretty weak standing next to a five year old Darfuri child.