It is hard to describe how the invitation to play, banjo music, and giant bubbles can transform a space. As the artists played after the show, Tara Azizi, spoke to adults and recorded their comments.
“Thank you for coming, this was a golden day for our children”
A parent’s comment after a performance in a refugee camp for Iranian-Kurds
“This is the first time we have had anything like this for our children. We didn’t know how to set up because no other NGO has come to our camp.” Community Organizer.
“This is so fun, I could sit all day until night” – Adult audience member
“We have never seen this before and we like it.” – Adult Audience member
“I feel so energized, I feel like I could jump.” – Adult Audience Member
“When we came here we used to say Inshallah [god-willing, or hopefully] we’ll get back to our home in Iran soon. Now we don’t say Inshallah anymore. We say we WILL go back home.”
A teacher who welcomed us into her refugee camp for Iranian-Kurdish families told us about their will to someday return to their homeland, when it is safe for Kurdish women and children. The camp we visited is made up of beautiful, concrete homes, it has a small park and playground too. The architecture feels permanent in many ways. But no one wants to live their lives out here—there is a deep need to go home.
When asked how she felt about the show, a teacher said, with a huge smile on her face, “Overwhelmed.” She went on to say how the children in this camp had never seen anything like this and that they welcomed us back anytime. Levity and playfulness is contagious, as is hope, as is creativity, as is the opportunity to still see a positive future even when violently swept from homes home, robbed of ones rights, and torn from one’s dignity.