I’ve been privileged to learn from refugees all over the world, in places as far-flung as Turkey, Greece and Bangladesh and as close as the dinner table with my son-in-law.
I’ve listened as men described running away from their villages with children tucked under each arm as Myanmar soldiers shot at them with machine guns, as mothers describe having their babies torn from their arms and thrown on bonfires, of rape and torture. I’ve heard the dad who was an architect in Syria finally decide to leave because the bombs were so close, they were keeping his children awake at night.