“We always kicked for the same team. We prayednext to each other on the sajjada during salat.
“As you can see the camps are overpopulated,and the small parts in between, if somebodyvanishes, getting to them is like a reunion date
In spring 1985, with everyone’s expectant parents sweating and wedged into the auditorium chairs, it was my appointed task to kick off the school’s year-end performance by plinking out the opening strains of “We Are the World” on the music...
Over a tundra of red sand they arrive eager as stadiumfans, with laundry-like sacks and bags, separated into queues:
The UNHCR Somali driver speeds by a small herdof white cattle prodded along by a desert farmer.rust-colored dust in its wake clouds barbed-
They told you that their enemies surroundedthe women, the countless rapes fifteen milesfrom the border, even on the outskirts around
“When they came to camp, they asked my friend Abdiif he was ready to join the militia. He said, no.
