Thanksgiving

Even after all these years Thanksgiving is still one of the hardest things about living outside of the US.  Christmas is pretty spectacular here, Easter feels much the same and even Halloween is celebrated enough to tick that box.  But there is no substitute for Thanksgiving.  It takes a little effort to even find a turkey here this time of year, and a few other things need a little extra thought to complete the Thanksgiving feast than they would in the US.  But the main missing piece is the presence of family.  Thanksgiving has always meant food and family, and more than any time of year we miss our families most on Thanksgiving.  Gratefully we have made some wonderful friends during our many years here, some of whom have become just like family.  Never more true than it is with our dear friends, the Stephensons.  They have become part of our family, so the Thanksgiving table feels natural and complete with them around it with us. 

Becoming British

It's been a long road, but after many years living in the UK and jumping through many hoops we finally became British Citizens on 22 November 2017 in an official private swearing in ceremony.  It was an emotional time as we took this step.  Feel very grateful for this blessing of security this brings our family being able to stay in the UK as citizens.  I think citizenship is like having children.  I have equal love for both of mine.  They are very different and I wouldn't give either one of them up, but I love them both!  The UK has become our home physically and in many ways culturally.  It's been interesting to reflect on our life and our time here and what it's meant for our family.  I'm of course American first, but in many ways I identify as British more.  Either way I bleed red white and blue!

Rohingya Refugees in Bangladesh

Hayley at Lifting Hands International asked me to join her on a expedition to Bangladesh to suss out the situation there and how LHI could help, using my images to share the story and help people understand the crisis who want to help.  Hayley and I met in Dubai before meeting on a connecting flight to Dhaka.  We then took a local flight down south to Cox's Bazar, which is the closest major city to Kutupalong Refugee camp, where hundreds of thousands of Rohingya refugees are being held.  

I struggle to find the words.  I am pretty sure I have now seen the very worst humankind has to offer. It was just too awful to be real. What we saw and experienced in the Rohingya camp in southern Bangladesh far surpasses anything I have witnessed so far in any other camp in Europe or the Middle East. I kept thinking to myself as we wandered this massive refugee camp of over 500,000 hollowed souls that this must be the very worst, like it really just has to be, and found myself actually pleading within my heart that this would be the worst because I cannot reconcile against any conceivable measure why this kind of existence for any human being is okay. The terror, the desperation, the poverty of the Rohingya people has no comparison. And the sheer density of this here is completely overwhelming. In all honestly none of my images will even come close to doing justice to what is going on there, so it actually seems pointless. So much hopelessness in one space that it leads to immediate despair.  I leave feeling not grateful for my life and what I have, but angered for the grave injustice of this world. Why am I so privileged while so many suffer in this way, so very deeply? Why? No matter my life's problems, any of us born into a developed nation with basic human rights, well we are lucky beyond reasonable understanding. 

The Rohingya tragedy is both a story of a multitude as well as an individual. Literally hundreds of thousands of these people fleeing genocide have poured into the country of Bangladesh, whose economy and infrastructure is ill equipped to handle the body of its own much less the grave needs of the incoming. This number "hundreds of thousands" does little more than string together a piece of text, that is until you actually see what this looks like in person. As far as the eye can see, tents of various stability cram the landscape. For miles and miles. And while looking down the muddy, stench-filled alley way of one section of the camp the bigger number becomes just a few, and looking into the eyes of a desperate stranger, that number becomes one. One heartbreaking story of death, torture, escape, starvation and hopelessness. Too many of these stories to count, but also just one. The feeling of helplessness is never more present than it is here. The needs are too great, the numbers too large.

We literally could not walk around the camp without an entourage.  Kids swarmed around Hayley so she began doing some impromptu Arabic instruction, which gathers even more people.  No matter where we went we were followed by many.

There are pockets of goodness happening in this massive camp, but mostly just incredible need. The thing I noticed most about these people is their very subdued, passive nature. It reminded me of being near a dog who had been abused its whole life. They are a broken people mistrusting of the world. They are also a beautiful people, and they are very likely going to be contained within this camp for the rest of their lives. It's a terrible plight.

We're on the coast of Bangladesh, took a walk on the beach to stretch our legs and breathe some fresh air, which is difficult to find here. A mental health day away from refugees down the road. Even outside of the camps, Bangladesh is very much a developing country that most people would consider third world. Though I've been to many places where I've stood out as a foreigner and as a woman, I've never felt like such a spectacle as I have in Bangladesh. People literally stop and stare as we walk. People even pull tuk tuks over and stop on the side of the road to have a look. Children follow us down the street or along the beach shore. It's like we are aliens. They are nice enough, but I can't get over just how much we are being looked at. Every single set of eyes wherever we go all staring at us. So our relaxing beach walk was a bit less relaxing than it could've been. Bangladesh is not most people's idea of a holiday, and clearly not foreigners. And while the sand is soft and water is warm, it is not very pleasant or picturesque apart from these spectacular traditional boats.