In this refugee place, I felt it was my place

My first experience as a volunteer, and what it taught me about belonging and migration

I got there a little earlier than I thought I would, and I was a little worried. A kid came up to me and asked where I was from while I was standing there, trying to take it all in. The coordinator came up just as I was ready to smile and answer.

He started giving me a tour of the building, and I was really impressed. The space was thoughtfully designed.  It was not only functional, but also warm and welcoming. A location made to make them feel at home and help them slowly adjust to their new existence.

My coworker showed up a little while later. She said that this wasn’t a really regimented place; instead, the kids would decide how we spent our time together. So I followed their lead. I played with their toys, listened to their thoughts, and let myself into their world, where their creativity and imagination led me.

I felt a special connection with the younger children, and I liked the older kids because they had so much enthusiasm. Some wanted to play football, while a small kid would just hold my hand and ask me to go for a brief walk in the garden. In his own way, he was showing me how he sees the world.

Then it was time for dinner. I felt like I was part of something as I sat with them and watched how they congregated, talked, and enjoyed each other’s company, not just as individuals, but as a group. It seemed like I was there, even if only for a time.

The kids didn’t want the day to end yet.

My coworker got creative and painted with the bigger kids while I stayed with the younger ones. I watched them ride their scooters or play with a ball with the youngest one.

Their faces, their smiles, and their sweet “Tak for i dag.” “Are you coming tomorrow?”

Saying “no” and “next week” felt heavier than I thought it would.

When you want to give up on trying to make the world a better place, moments like this might remind you why you started.

This first time volunteering will always be with me, not just because of what I did that day, but also because of everything I had to do to get there.

It also changed how I think about migration. Because migration is always difficult, but not in the same way.

I arrived with a plane ticket and a suitcase, but that’s not the same as the reality for many of these families, especially the younger ones. I’m only starting to understand their experiences.

Maybe that’s why, in this refugee place, I felt it was my place.