...but through the heartbreak, I saw immense strength and resilience, a defiant dignity - the spirit of survival. ... families - whod created fountains out of shisha pipes, whod started breeding birds, and growing plants, and creating artwork to remind them of home. And kids, who stopped drawing graphic images of war, and are finding their way back to being kids again. Earlier this year, Neil Gaiman visited two refugee camps in Jordan, and met and spoke with people who have fled violence in Syria. He wrote about it here: theguardian/world/2014/may/21/many-ways-die-syria-neil-gaiman-refugee-camp-syria - and made a film about his experiences, and about the individuals and families he met there (see link below). I realise I have stopped thinking about political divides, about freedom fighters or terrorists, about dictators and armies. I am thinking only of the fragility of civilisation. The lives the refugees had were our lives: they owned corner shops and sold cars, they farmed or worked in factories or owned factories or sold insurance. None of them expected to be running for their lives, leaving everything they had because they had nothing to come back to, making smuggled border crossings, walking past the dismembered corpses of other people who had tried to make the crossing but had been caught or been betrayed. Please watch, and share. And, if you wish to donate and/or take further action, this link tells you how: donate.unhcr.org/gbr/neilgaiman
Posted on: Tue, 28 Oct 2014 10:14:16 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015