Most of you reading this have grown up in a fairly stable environment. You’ve probably had easy access to basic education, your parents bought you ice cream on special occasions and Friday nights were for pizza, movies, prank calls, and sleepovers. It was likely you had a plethora of toys, more than you actually made use of. You and your family were able to travel by way of car or plane without fear of being stopped or questioned because of the way you looked; maybe you went on vacation out west, or even over seas. As a child, you never questioned if you would have a safe place to sleep at night, a roof over your head, and you got at least one sufficient meal at school. Major responsibilities were known only to your parents and walking to your best friend’s house across the street was not considered potentially problematic. It is probable that the worst of your concerns amounted to being punished for not completing your chore chart. Maybe while on vacation at the beach, you burned your feet on the ultra-hot sand. Or maybe you didn’t like what your elementary school was serving for lunch one day.
Certainly there are exceptions to these expectations. Some families are not able to provide and do have very real struggles everyday. But growing up in a First World country, it’s presumably fair to agree that most people here have relatively small struggles compared to other parts of the world.
Take, for instance, Khaldiya, a 17-year-old, living her life as a Syrian refugee. Khaldiya had no choice but to leave her home and everything else behind, after it had been bombed as a result of the Syrian revolution. Khaldiya and her family found a new life in a refugee camp in Jordan. Among some of her many gratitudes, she claims that, while not living in the best of circumstances, she has no fear, like she used to, about walking to her friend’s house. Since there is no official school, Khaldiya has taken it upon herself to teach young children who reside throughout the camp. With little resources, she and her family live in an incredibly modest home. One which you and I might find challenging to consider a home at all. Her younger siblings and other children in the camp play together using nothing but their imaginations.
Imagine having to pretend to ride a bicycle as a child, because you didn’t actually have one. Imagine having to go fetch water. Imagine not having a room to yourself. Imagine living for three years in a temporary safety camp. As difficult as it may be to imagine ourselves in these circumstance, Khaldiya’s imagination is one of inspiration. Not only is she avidly and passionately learning to film directly from the source, but she is looking forward to the day when she is no longer confined to the safety of her refugee camp and is able continue her education and growth with her friends at a university.
To get an unfiltered look at what life is like for Khaldiya and many other refugees, watch her documentary here.