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On the Road, Shaking and Thinking

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The car ride from Guereda to Iriba shook me to the bones, especially the ones on my back. It was a bumpy two-hour drive through sandy and rocky terrain. Long drives used to be the norm back when I started coming in 2005. Now we jump on the small humanitarian flights as much as possible, since our time is better spent working on our programs with the refugees. This ride did give me more time to think about my family, about how much I miss them, and about how lucky we are.

At times, it’s probably not fun being one of my three kids. I do bring my work home. Refugees are a part of our lives. I started coming out here after long conversations with my then nine-year-old daughter, Mimi. Gabo, from when he could barely walk, would go to all my events and work. He would help put up and take down our tent exhibit,