The young men sitting under the tree in front of my house couldn’t stop staring at me.

I left my house in the scorching sun to go to a friend’s house to celebrate South Sudan. In my mind and heart, I was celebrating the freedom of Southern Sudanese and their right to living in their own country as First-Class Citizens, something that they would never have in the haphazard landmass called Sudan. Armed with a makeshift hand-painted Sudanese flag, I was holding the flag with one hand and trying to wave a taxi with the other. I couldn’t put it down.

I finally reached my friend’s house accompanied by another friend. Ajaa A., a friend who hails from South Sudan, was organizing a small gathering at her house to celebrate South Sudan’s independence. I have been watching South Sudan TV (SSTV) since midnight. My father has recently grown fond of Ebony and SSTV, they are the only channels he watches in addition to Al Jazeera. Sudanese channels are in a world of their own, we don’t even bother wasting electricity on them.

After watching the national anthem for about 60 times, we watched catchy songs recorded by South Sudanese musicians and a mini documentary featuring North Sudanese express their thoughts on secession.

At night, we headed to Nile Street. In recent years, Nile Street has grown to become the most popular hang-out spot for youth in the weekend. You sit on colored plastic chairs sipping ginger or cinnamon flavored tea or Ethiopian coffee made by Sudanese and Ethiopian tea-ladies (Sittat Chai) alike.

On the way to the end of Nile Street where we usually gather with friends, the streets were packed. Hundreds of cars were blocking the way, people were walking on all pavements and the majority was waving Sudanese flags. Cars were decorated with Sudanese flags and even the old Bahri Bridge was painted red, green, and white and black, the colors of the flag.
“What are they celebrating?” I asked my friends.

When the road gets less blocked, we would drive really close to cars waving Sudanese flags and I would roll down my window and blast my South Sudanese flag to their faces. They would, of course, get utterly shocked and ask me “why?” and tell me to raise it again. This led to being harassed by two guys, one of which had blow-dried hair and couldn’t stop commenting on my hairband…

I put my flag down when we reached a busy area that was reserved for celebrations by National Congress Party (NCP) supporters. With their huge posters of President Bashir and huge flags, they probably didn’t know that the prices have already increase and many gas stations have no petrol. I wish them luck in finding petrol for their land cruisers.

I also saw a poster of the notorious “Just Peace Forum”, the controversial pro-independence Northern group headed by Al Tayeb Mustafa, the uncle of President Bashir and the owner of Al-Entbha, a newspaper I believe promotes racism and makes up news.
We stopped a guy selling water and asked him about the four flags he is showcasing.

“What are you celebrating”, I asked him, matter-of-factly.

“I’m celebrating today, the secession of the south,” he replied
“Why?” I asked again
“We are not going to have drunk people anymore,” he replied

I asked him if he ever saw a drunken Southern Sudanese in Khartoum creating problems and if this is the only reason and if he is thinking about the future of the North after secession. He was confused.

I sat with my sister and my best friend discussing the misinformation of people in the north. How they don’t grasp the enormity of the situation, Sudan was split into two countries and we are losing cultural diversity and an abundance of resources.

We were joined by more friends. A friend brought a cousin and when I started conversing with him, I was filled with sadness.

He was also celebrating independence because the Southerners were planning to “enslave the Northerners and torture us,”
“This is why John Garang was assassinated, he was evil, and he wanted to enslave us. You would have worked as a maid in his house, “he told, looking as convinced as ever.

“I don’t know where to start. How do you know John Garang was “assassinated” and for this exact purpose. The Southerners do not have an evil plan to enslave us or torture us. We treated them horribly and still do, but they are above that,” I told him.

I felt sick to my stomach, I found myself too angry to engage in a further discussion with him. I pulled my chair away and told my friend the shocking story. He, surely, continued telling me conspiracy theories. In a few seconds, he mentioned the US and Israel.

Of course.

The United States and Israel are the reason why Sudan has been embroiled in Africa’s longest-running civil war; they are also the reason why Northerners feel superior to Southerners. They are the root cause of all our problems.

As much as secession is painful, I feel that the attitudes of young Sudanese people from the north are even more disturbing than Sudan splitting. I think I have a few white hairs from what I heard over the past few weeks. At work, from relatives and at public gatherings, not only do they not feel any responsibility towards the fate of Sudan, they also feel that the over-burdening Southerners have left and now, the north is free to become a developed and peaceful country.

“It is not about the south separating. Now that the Southerners have their own country, we will still abuse other groups, we are free to harass people from west Sudan, whom we refer to as “gharabba”, said my friend.

She is right, stay tuned to the North VS. the rest of Sudan.

Based in New Delhi, India, Al-Khidir answers a significant number of daily questions posted on the wall of the group. The purpose of the group is to support one of Sudan’s very few international life coaches in exchange for professonal quality advice.

With 124 members , the group is growing at an alarming rate. Since its inception less than a month ago, it has attracted members from other countries including Bahrain, the Netherlands and France.

With experience in the field of journalism and a background in psychology, Al-Khidir is capable of answering a diverse range of questions.

From relationship dilemmas to beauty advice, she does not only rely on her knowledge, but engages in intensive research before submitting her answers.

Sara Sinada, a Sudanese economist , insists that Ask Ibz has become a significant part of her life.

” It’s the first thing I do in the morning, I open the browser and ask questions. I’ve become so well-informed.”

As the group grows, members are encouraging Al-Khidir to start considering a more grass-root presence as opposed to a virtual presence.

Fore more information about Ibtihal Al-Khidir, visit the “Ask Ibz” group on facebook

Recalling a 60′s experience

A.M.H was circumcised at the tender age of 9. She remembers the nitty-gritty details of this ordeal even though it has occurred over 40 years ago.

Her father, a highly-educated man was in a conference outside Sudan , he has repeatedly warned her mother and his mother, her grand-mother, of taking her to the cutter.

” My daughters will not be circumcised, this is backwards and oppressive, ” stated her father, a US- educated Sudanese professional.

The women gathered, conspired and produced a detailed plan of taking her to the cutter while her father, her only savior, was away. The plan was successful and A.M.H was pampered that day and promised a lot of sweets and toys. She was excited, she didn’t know what was in store for her.

Two women held her down with all their force and proceeded to cut a part of her body.

She remembers the blood gushing out of her , the overwhelming soreness, the inability to get up.

She wanted to get up and play, but she couldn’t move an inch. She felt disabled and helpless.

When her father came back a few days later, he figured out that something was wrong. He asked her and she told him the truth. She shared her pain with him.

It was the 1960′s and female circumcision was a widespread practice , hence, when her father announced his decision to divorce her mother for disobeying him, he was brushed off as insane.

The divorce never materialized, but female circumcision was the main cause of conflict between the young couple for the rest of their lives. It has changed their marriage as much as it changed the life of this 9 year old girl.

A.M.H is now a mother. When she married the father of her daughters in the early 80′s, they jointly made a decision to not let their daughters undergo this painful procedure. Despite protests from close family members, they’ve rejected their pleads and ignored their heartfelt advices.

Where did it come from?

Female circumcision is the excision of any part of the female genitalia. A age-old tradition passed down from the Pharaohs , it’s a popular practice in Egypt, Sudan, Somalia and Ethiopia. It’s also practiced in certain communities in Iraq, Yemen, Burkina Faso and Kenya.

Until very recently, the Sudanese were known for practicing the most severe type of circumcision, pharaonic circumcision or infibulation, in which all of the external genitalia is removed. However, in recent years, the least severe type, clitoridectomy, also known as sunni circumcision, has been on the rise. Pharanoic circumcision causes serious health problems and complications during pregnancy and childbirth since the sutures are cut and after the baby is delivered, the woman is sewn up again or refibulated.

According to traditional beliefs, the purpose of FC is to reduce a woman’s sexual desire to make sure that she remains a virgin until her marriage. It also aims at increasing the amount of sexual pleasure for the male partner.

However, some wholeheartedly believe that circumcision has roots in Islam.

Just a few days ago , M.S., a young Sudanese mother in her early 30′s organized a circumcision ceremony for  her 6 year old daughter in a country where FC is a crime punishable by imprisonment.

“I’ve conducted intensive research and based on this research, I believe that this practice is first and foremost an Islamic practice,” stated M.S.

Despite attempts from family and friends to intervene, M.S. used a book by an unknown Egyptian sheikh as her sole reference.

Although FC predates Islam, some scholars believe that Islam had to tolerate the practice as it was already ingrained in the society. In a hadith, the Prophet (PBUH) stated that  FC shouldn’t be excessive and harmful to the woman in question.

In modern times, the Grand Mufti of Egypt, Prof Dr. Ali Goma’a announced during a meeting with ten scholars from all over the world that Muslims shouldn’t practice this custom seeing that it is a crime against humanity.

Urban Atittudes

In an attempt to understand the relevance of FC to today’s urban youth living in Khartoum and its twin cities, I was able to conduct an anonymous survey in which the participants were asked whether they are aware of the practice and  whether they are familiar with circumcised girls  and their opinion about the practice. Female participants were asked if they had undergone FC.

A.M, a 27 year old Sudanese man believes that we should distinguish between ordinary or sunna circumcision and pharaonic circumcision.

” Ordinary circumcision is common in most Islamic  and gulf countries and it protects the female from herpes and infections in the long term,” explains A.M.

A.A, a 24 year old Sudanese male agrees with A.M and adds that it’s important not only from a medical point of view, but it also ensures hygiene.

M.G , a 25 year old Sudanese  male student living in the United States believes that circumcision is a crime.

On the other hand, a young Sudanese woman working in the field of journalism stated that FC is “a traumatizing experience which can be likened to the horror of rape.”

She added that FC is based on cultural beliefs regarding a woman’s honor.

Other young Sudanese women interviewed used words such as damaging and painful to describe the practice.

From the results of my survey, I realized that Sudanese men are more aware of the different types of circumcision as opposed to Sudanese women who view FC as one barbaric practice and fail to see any variations.

What A Man Wants

In an article written by Meghan Sapp for Women-e-news, she recalls the story of a young Sudanese man, a son of a diplomat who has recently returned to Khartoum. He fell in love with a young lady and was getting ready to marry her.

He was hesitant about asking his young bride about FC so he asked her sister if she had undergone FC. The sister miscommunicated this question and the young woman panicked and before their wedding, she had the procedure performed.

The marriage didn’t last, FC was one of the main reasons to blame.

Dr. Babikar Bedri, a prominent researcher in the field of female circumcision at Ahfad University believes that there are no studies tackling how young couples discuss this issue before marriage.

According to Dr. Bedri, contrary to the old days when grooms returned their uncircumcised wives, a study carried out at Khartoum University among male students found out that 75% would like to have an un-excised future wife.

As our perceptions about a woman’s right to choice and female sexuality are changing at an alarming rate due to living in the digital age and the government’s intervention , I can’t help but wonder whether the desires of men to have an “un-circumsised” wife will play a significant role in decreasing the practice in the near future.

After years of observing “Awadia Fishes” expand in size and grow in popularity, I decided to find Awadia, the woman no-one knows much about.

Someone told me she galavants around on one leg.

Does she even exist?

She exists.

Her chocolate-brown skin glistens under the skin and her larger-than-life personality strikes you every-time she utters a word or gives you a smile. She said she feels self-concious when she smiles because half of her teeth are missing. She remains beautiful despite years of living in grinding poverty, sitting under the sun and walking for miles because she couldn’t afford spending money on transportation.

When I asked her to speak about herself, she told me she was born in the mountains, the Nuba Mountains. She later confessed that she was born and raised in Omdurman, but she still feels loyal to her place of origin. She asked me to write that she is from the Nuba Mountains.

She embodies the repercussions of war. Many were forced to flee the south and move to the safety of the north. Even if they’ve never seen the south, they still feel a connection to it. When you are displaced, you start idolizing your home.

Awadia’s journey with the sea started seventeen years ago.

She was working as a tea-lady in different parts of Omdurman , but she couldn’t make enough money to support her family. One day, she asked her daughter to read the Qu’ran. Her daughter read “Surat Al Baqqara” aloud and Awadia repeated after her since she was illiterate. After she finished reading the sura, Awadia went to sleep. She slept for a long time and in her dreams, she had a life-changing vision.

” If I told you about my vision, you wouldn’t believe me. I saw the sea, people working there, a lot of fishermen and fish. I saw fish everywhere. I woke up and I felt very happy,” she said.

Shortly after that, her neighbor suggested they work as sittat -chai in the area close to the sea.

“I started out as a “sit chai” , I used to make tea, coffee and leigemat,” said Awadia.

Struggling to support her many children, Awadia did the unthinkable and worked after 10 am.

“When I first started working as a sit-chai, all the women left the market area before 10 am because it was unacceptable for them to stay after that, but I had no choice but to stay.  I stayed and since I was the only tea-lady there ,I made a lot of extra money.”

To cater to the needs of her growing costumers, she started making traditional Sudanese dishes like Kamoneya and Faseekh. Shortly afterwards, her friend suggested they start making fish. They started buying fish, frying it and selling it.

The building of a restaurant called Golden Gate commenced and the workers building it were helping Awadia’s business grow. She was working day and night to cater to their needs and her income steadily increased. The honeymoon lasted for two to three years until the Council of Omdurman decided to kick out the tea ladies based in that area.

With only a donkey cart, Awadia used to bring fish from the market and sell it at Al Moatamar School in Al-Morada for a little less than a year.

After the Council of Omdurman  came under a lot of criticism for its inhumane actions towards the tea ladies, they allowed Awadia to return.

Awadia returned to her old location and continued making fish. As the number of women making fish and tea increased, they started facing problems.

Once again, Awadia had to collect her belongings and find a new place to start from scratch.

Awadia walked for miles under the boiling sun, too poor to afford a tok-tok, she had to find a place as soon as possible.

She finally found a small store in Kenouz, a neighborhood in Omdurman ,but a few weeks later, someone from the neighborhood filed a complaint and she was kicked out.

She rented another store ,yet again she was kicked out because people in that neighborhood filed a complaint.

“They said I attracted too many costumers and women didn’t feel comfortable walking around,” said Awadia.

Being the person she is, she didn’t hold grudges or complain. She gathered her belongings and began looking for another place.

For two weeks, Awadia walked around Omdurman looking for her next venue. She finally found a makeshift tiny store on Al Morada-street. She sat there for hours looking for the owner and when he finally arrived, he refused to rent it to her.

“He left me sitting there, contemplating, attempting to plan my next move. I prayed Duhr and stayed there for hours. When he came back and found me still sitting there, he said yes. Maybe it was God answering my prayers, but he just agreed,” said Awadia.

“3 months later, I had to leave my store. The council said I was blocking the road with my costumers,”added Awadia.

She was looking for a new location. Her many responsibilities encouraged her to persevere against all odds.

Her final stop was her current restaurant. Located only a few minutes  away from the Omdurman-Khartoum bridge . It’s next to “Coach Fresh Juices”, a tiny store managed by the former coach of the Hilal Club.

“First Awadia used to tell people that she is situated right next to Coach  Fresh , now I tell people I’m next to Awadia Fishes”, said the Coach.

He helped her get the first venue and he also helped her expand into her new restaurant. Her old store is currently where everything is prepared, the new one is modern and caters to families.

Even on a Sunday afternoon, I struggled to find an empty table. It was packed, cars were blocking the road, more people kept arriving. As I entered the restaurant, I saw a group of young women at a table talking and enjoying the fish. The tables are not very close together, giving each group  much-needed privacy.

Decades ago, when Awadia, a young girl disabled by polio embarked on a difficult journey called life, she didn’t know what to expect. Through her work as a tea-lady, she served sweet cups of tea to thousands of workers and fishermen. She also inspired poets who came everyday to work  on the banks of the nile.

Despite her non-existent educational background, disability and  bad luck, she continued to make the best out of each and every opportunity.

Outside her restaurant, a BMW, two land-cruisers and many fancy cars are parked. All her costumers know her by name. They greet her as they walk from their cars to “Awadia Fishes” to eat her signature fish in the comfort of a modern restaurant.

She sits outside in the boiling sun observing her business as if she is a mother watching her baby growing up. Strikingly tall with strong features, she obviously spends a fair amount of time as the observed as well.

In this podcast, we discuss his identity, his struggles and the situation of LGBT people in the Arab world.

In his blog, Ali shares some of his views on the subject of coming-out of the closet or revealing to people your sexuality.

What’s the point of having elections if most people don’t register ?

The turnout was low, in Sudan and in embassies all over the world. The common answer or excuse , whatever you want to call it, was ” we know who is going to win, so why waste gas money if nothing is going to change”.

Here we are, 20 years after a bloodless coup overturned a democratically-elected government , living in an oppressive dictatorship and expecting to wake up one morning and ..voila…find a politically-stable democratic government.

I went home feeling disappointed . I ranted , rambled and complained.

Then, I went back to my favorite hobby, googling Sudan-related articles.

I was pissed and I started angrily jabbing my keyboard.

Google:- Sudan, elections, movement, registration, please!

I came across a website, Girifna, a small, but growing movement lead by three guys in Khartoum, Sudan. One day in late October, they were hanging out and an idea came to their minds, why aren’t people registering? They had to take action.

Girifna, we are disgusted (literally) was born. It’s a movement to bring down the current government in a peaceful way, by spreading awareness and encouraging Sudanese people to vote in the general elections.

Their website is armed with a bilingual “About us” page.

About their mission, they state that 

“ this is a unique opportunity to bring peaceful change and to rid Sudan of a regime that has ruled for 20 years through tanks and bullets. It is also a chance to show respect to those who paid with the their lives for democratic transformation brought through the Comprehensive Peace Agreement and the constitutional right for peaceful change through free and fair elections.”

Their campaign is supported by a frequently-updated blog and website, a growing Facebook group and a field presence in which they provide much-needed educational information for supporters to use.

They urge supporters to spread the knowledge and love in a number of ways.

If you want to spread awareness and you are faced with an illiterate individual,  they add, ” use simple language,illustrations, music, theater plays, etc…”

After I found Girifna’s website and joined their Facebook group, I was inspired and overwhelmed with a great sense of nationalism. People were making noise. It’s fine to not want to go out there and protest, the police forces are brutal and as humans we like protecting ourselves. However, the “garfaneen” are making noise, just like a lot of people, from their rooms.

If the pen is “mightier than the sword”, then I’m sure the laptop is as mighty.

PS:- I would like to keep all of you updated because this election is going to be HUGE! We are going to be creative and modern. So, tune to Al-jazeera if you want, but don’t forget the virtual world!

Most of the time, I leave the cinema hall feeling disappointed, offended and ripped-off. Here I am, after wasting nearly two hours of my precious life, feeling slightly older and bitter that my intellect wasn’t stimulated in any way.

The question we need to ask here is not why such pathetic attempts at film-making are still being made, it’s simply: why is the public still interested in such films?

After all, the supply of what Egypt Today, called “brainless comedies” reflects the demand for such films.

I have to admit, the Egyptian cinema was blessed in recent years with the production of films such as Sahr Al Layaly and Yacoubian building and even the recent controversial “Ehky ya Shahrezad”.

The aforementioned movies reflect Egypt’s bittersweet reality.

The divorce rates are increasing at an alarming rate, Sahr Al Layaly points out the reasons, it introduces us to the problems and challenges of marriage in modern day Egypt.

Yacoubian building takes us on a long rollercoaster-style journey into Egypt’s social ills, economic woes and the current politically-chaotic scene.

I’m writing this with poor Mona Zaki in mind, the media wasn’t particularly nice to her this summer. She delivered a memorable performance as a talk show host on a difficult mission to give a voice to voiceless Egyptian women. She gives them a voice and lets them take us hand in hand down an often painful memory lane.

Let’s go back to the other side of the wall. Egyptian comedy movies usually rely on the actor’s looks for “cheap laughs”. Maybe I’m naive, but I always thought comedy should depend on clever and witty writing. This is exactly what a lot of comedy flicks lack, good writing. Whether the movie features Mohammed Saad or Saad al Sagheer, the actors try to generate laughter based on their looks or their ability to play dumb. Al Limby, a popular movie, features Mohammed Saad, as a “mentally-challenged” person. Al Limby went on to become one of Egypt’s highest-grossing films.

It’s a shame that making fun of mentally-challenged, overweight, unattractive people makes a lot of people laugh, it doesn’t make me laugh.

Any Egyptian or non-Egyptian feminist or any woman interested in the portrayal of women in the cinema is surely mortified when she hears sexist jokes. Even good-old Adel Imam, one of the greatest actors in Egyptian history seems to be saying a lot of sexist jokes lately. Foul jokes about a women’s body are not funny, they are just foul, for lack of a more bitter word!

Then, there is the blatant racism, I cringe every time I hear “jokes” about dark people being dirty, ugly, or if there are women involved, then they are really ugly “prostitutes”.

In yet another Egyptian comedy, Ali Spicy, Hakem walks into a room only to find his friend in bed with a black woman. The racist epithets go on and on, until he scolds him by saying “they are not women, they are animals”. This was of course one of the many tasteless climaxes in the movie. I wasn’t as bothered by it as I was by the fact that it was one of the funniest scenes for most of the audience members. It was so funny, it deserved a round of applause.

It’s hard to think of contemporary Egyptian cinema without such nuisances coming to mind. I appreciate good films and I can name all the well-respected and talented Egyptian artists, but I just can’t be bothered to sit through another sad excuse for a movie.

My friends tell me the interest in such movies comes down to one thing:- economic problems. The Egyptian public wants to escape the difficult living conditions by laughing out loud. I reluctantly believe them….although I think the public deserves better.

When I finished my exams , I slept for about two weeks. When I finally woke up, I called a guy called Lucky, I met him in front of a refugee church in Zamalek. His friend somehow started talking to my friend, then he started talking to me. I wasn’t interested, but for some odd reason, I gave him my number.

He was an aspiring hip-hop artist and he wanted me to come to his concerts.

I called him up one afternoon in the beginning of June and we decided to meet up at the church. We met in the afternoon, it was the hottest afternoon in June. I had to force myself to sit there ,ask questions and focus long enough to write down some notes. When I came home, after a quick stop for a Frappucino in Zamalek, I could barely read my notes.

I learned my lesson, our next meetings were at night. I asked questions, he talked and I let him digress for hours. His memories of Sudan took 10 pages of notes, Kenya took at least 20, Cairo took 25.

Armed with a notebook full of scribbles, abbreviated words and some notes about the need for spell-check (who knew there is a town called Yirol in Sudan?) , I started writing. I wrote a few pages and emailed it to my professor, Brooke Comers, who is also one of the editors of this book. She emailed me back with questions like (what does he see from his window? how did he feel when this happened? can he remember the names of some of his favorite school teachers?)

At this point, I came to contest my so-called “expert” understanding of Sudan. I couldn’t imagine a town being attacked, because I’ve never experienced the horrors of war. So, how is it possible for me to get him to talk in details and communicate his feelings with me if I don’t understand what he has been through.

I hesitated for a while, I felt like I lack the drive to complete this project. I was held-back by my one-sided perspective.

I called Lucky and scheduled yet another long meeting. We met for coffee, he had a sunshine cocktail , which he didn’t even get to drink until we were finished because he couldn’t stop talking. I liked his enthusiasm, we all have a story and a voice and trust me, we want to voice out how we feel about everything. We want to be heard. He saw this as his chance to be heard. It’s not going to change his life 100% , he knew that, but the fact that we know so little about refugees is going to change. Why are they here? What are they doing? What is their story?

Book cover, In Refuge

Listening to him talk about his strict father who told him to stay away from girls because they are the biggest distractions , I couldn’t help but giggle. That was it, common grounds, we all have things in common with refugees. Parents scolding us for drawing little hearts and writing so-called poetry dedicated to our loved ones in our notebooks.

A small sip from the sunshine cocktail and the conversation turned bleak. I stopped thinking about little cute red hearts and started imagining blood, dark red blood, gushing out after he was stabbed in his leg. He said he was walking in Cairo, minding his own business, when a group of young Egyptian men started making jokes and laughing at him. They were trying to provoke any action from him. Being the calm person he is, he ignored them , then he told them to leave him alone . Ten men attacked him, knives entered his body, knives were drawn across his body. He said he was hurt, not by the stitches, but by the feeling of loneliness. He was alone when he was attacked, he was alone when he was rushed to the hospital. All of a sudden, I imagined him , standing at 6′5, people looking at him, with fear in their eyes, an alarmingly tall black man. I looked at him and I couldn’t help but see his powerlessness. Attacked by ten men, he didn’t budge, he left the knives enter his body and dig deep hole, he accepted it, being degraded comes hand in hand with your refugee status. He told me very matter- of -factly, refugees have no rights. I didn’t argue much…..I believe you, I told him.

This book educated me, writing my humble chapter was a liberating experience. It made me encouraged to try new things. I did mention that I’ve worked with refugees since my freshman year , but I didn’t mention that it was all on campus, in my comfort zone. I didn’t go to where they live and experience their living-conditions until that summer. I didn’t know that one day, 15 years ago, I was a refugee myself.

For now, I will leave you with a touching quote.

“We are all refugees of a future that never happened.”

– Lee Weiner

The book is out, all proceeds go to refugees. You may buy it here.