Yesterday was World Refugee Day, and the people of Camp Djabal’s lives were intertwined with people from around the world in real-time. It was without a doubt the most important work I’ve ever done in my life. I haven’t had time to really process or absorb what I have been taking in on this trip, at least not as deeply as I know I eventually will.


Today is Sunday, Father’s Day, and I’m thinking of my Dad. I didn’t send him a card or a gift, but I know he knows I’m thinking of him. Yesterday morning in the hours before the start of the live video broadcast we sat on a mat and spoke with a group of men that are father figures of the camp. They told us about what they left behind in Darfur, and how they describe the beauty of Darfur to their young children so that they have at least a basic description of a home that they have never seen with their own eyes. They told us unanimously that there can be no peace in Darfur with there first being Justice. There was no debate, and they did not hesitate to state with complete confidence that everyone shared their non-negotiable demand for justice and accountability for Omar al-Bashir and all who have committed crimes against humanity. They voiced their support for the ICC and Luis Moreno Ocampo’s work.


I sat in awe listening and studying the faces of the men, astonished at how much pain, suffering, and evil their eyes had seen. We shared a mat on the ground. They shared their pain from the past, and their hope for the future. This was now on my shoulders. Focused and determined. It’s a weird metaphor, but one that I think people reading this will understand: This conversation was like the most inspirational pre-Superbowl motivational speech ever given by a coach to his team. Except, they didn’t know they were giving it. The conversation was totally impromptu, we didn’t plan on having it, it just happened… the way all things have happened on our trip. It happened for a reason. I left energized and focused on the task ahead — make sure that the stories of these men and those of the other people in the camp are beamed live across the world for all to see and hear.

Yesterday was World Refugee Day. My friends got to speak to the world. Directly to anyone who logged in. To anyone who was following any of the many twitter updates. To anyone who was on the live chat - anywhere in the world. We had spent the days leading up to WRD preparing for the live video feed to Washington DC and then for the several hours of live video feed to the world.


We walked the camp, back and forth in the sand and the heat. We talked with refugees, asked them to gather their friends to be included and to control the crowd, and we tested tech equipment. We slept on the floor of an office, quite comfortably actually, and had only a few moments of down time and sleep over the past week.


It was all worth it. Broadcasting the voices of the refugees to world, live, offering interactions and question/answer sessions, all of this is why I am here.


At the end of the day, during the sunset over Djabal, Annette Rehl from UNHCR was saying the closing words for the day. This is when it hit me. The power of what we did today and possibilities for the future. The possibility that the world’s most vulnerable can participate in the conversations and peace processes that affect their lives most directly is real. It is very real. This is why I am here.


Thank you to those who tuned in, and if you didn’t get a chance, please check out the “on demand” or archived footage of the day. You will see all our friends speaking to the world.