Witnessing our work, and our partners

I traveled to Bangladesh recently to bear witness to the bravery and resilience of the Rohingya people. If you aren’t aware, the Rohingya are a stateless Muslim minority who fled unimaginable violence and persecution in Myanmar six years ago this month, and today nearly a million remain in camps led by UNHCR, the UN Refugee Agency in Bangladesh. Learn more about the Rohingya emergency, and watch this 90-second video to see the sheer scale of Kutupalong Camp.

I was also in Bangladesh to bear witness to the work of UNHCR on the ground. As I witness and learn and absorb, I'm able to lead our efforts at USA for UNHCR more effectively —?efforts that are focused on channeling your generosity and compassion to the places that need it most.

Torrential monsoon rains, a side effect of climate change, plagued my trip, with devastating impacts on the camps —?and the roads to the camps. Essential supplies are at the mercy of available transport. Even the best-laid logistics plans can only prepare for so much in the face of extreme weather and volatile conditions. Traffic was brutal, and the scene in every small urban center we passed was a mix of chaos — water rushing, sandbags stacked — and normality, as the daily life of shops, pedestrians, and honking horns carried on.??

Here is where I sound a note of optimism: I see so much opportunity to make a positive difference for those living in these camps by addressing environmental challenges; the even better news is that this work is already well underway. Many dedicated colleagues and Rohingya are investing their wisdom and time into making the camps a better place to build a life (for however long is needed) while also advancing a more purposeful relationship with the planet, from watershed management to reforestation to water and sanitation efforts that are closely linked with health outcomes.

In the meantime, chaos or not, the work must continue; and so, each and every day, UNHCR staff overcome monsoons, washed out roads, and other obstacles to get essential supplies to the camps, where hundreds of thousands of Rohingya people are living in crowded pop-up communities. Many are living in shelters designed to be temporary and yet, some have been there for thirty years, when earlier violence and persecution drove them from Myanmar.?

What struck me so much on this trip is how, for displaced people in refugee camps, there exists a paradox: their lives are simultaneously frozen, in that they can’t leave, and simultaneously unfolding, because life happens even when we’re frozen in place. We do things like: eat meals, interact with other people, learn and work. We exist, in all of our humanity.

Frozen, but not frozen.?

We all, refugees and otherwise, need our brains and hearts engaged in productive and meaningful activities in order to remain hopeful and continue evolving. Otherwise, how could we get up day after day, week after week, year after year? We must feel that our lives have purpose. I was struck by conversations I had with girls around the ages of 13-15, who shared their dreams — one wants to become a doctor, another a pilot.?

I knew about the livelihood programs that UNHCR runs, but it’s one thing to know about something intellectually, and another thing to witness your fellow human beings first-hand. Which is something I’ve been reflecting on quite a bit: how essential it is to spend time with the people with whom you partner, something I’ve been doing since my days leading reproductive rights organization PAI.

On my final day in Bangladesh, I enjoyed cultural exploration with my friend and colleague Musharraf Tansen. We visited Lalbagh Fort, attended a stage interpretation of Rabindranath Tagore's book, Achalayatan (I didn't understand a single word, but still loved it!), and enjoyed wondrous fuchka.

The cultural outing came after a powerful week with my UNHCR colleagues, including Johannes Van Der Klaauw, Yoko Akasaka, Rachel Demas, Mohamed Othman, Matthew Reynolds, Matt Pennington and many others. I’m always struck by the unique power travel has to bond us. I rode in a van with some of these folks for hours, in a monsoon. We checked in each day: How did you sleep? How's your jet lag? All of this breeds a level of connection on a molecular level that you just don’t get in any other context.?

There is a way we connect with each other in person, and on travel, that is substantively different from the way we connect online, or through secondhand accounts. That’s not to say that there aren’t meaningful ways to work or connect remotely; rather, I’m reminded of the unique and irreplaceable experience of being with another human being, in-person.?

Back in the States for over two weeks now, I’m already seeing the ripple effects of my trip. At a donor lunch, I spoke with more authority about our programs in Bangladesh. When U4U's CFO, Brian Davis , sent out a financial report, he included a brief narrative with photos I’d shared from my time in Bangladesh. He turned the distribution of financial details into a “mission moment,” because the numbers are fueling a greater cause whose reach extends far beyond our US offices.

I know the ripple effects will continue to unfold, in ways I notice and don’t notice. I’m reminded of this Ranier Marie Rilke quote:

“Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”

To some extent, as mission-driven leaders, we take trips like mine to Bangladesh out of faith —?faith that living, even temporarily, in more proximity to those most impacted, will fuel our path into the answers that they so desperately deserve.?