Rainy season at a refugee camp: tents flood, the mud is up to your knees, your clothes don't dry, snakes like to stay warm in your tent, textbooks in schools get wet and children are coughing and sneezing and can't hear what the teacher says because the rain is pouring so loud on the roof. And yet the kids keep laughing and make fun of these two white girls who try to entertain them teaching them songs in strange languages and do little dances and clapping games with them as there is nothing else to do and nowhere to go.
No high-level cluster meeting, no coordination meeting or joint fundraising proposal to write, but just being stuck in a classroom for hours as the rain just would not stop. At the end of the day I got into the white car, drove to my hotel full of dry, fluffy towels and felt awful and strengthened at the same time. And ashamed. My government is cutting funds that should be going to these children. Hand clapping games and silly Dutch songs will not get them anywhere in life and they deserve better. For crying out loud.
