Divided by strips of plastic places between us, males sat on one side, and all females opposite them. Arabic, Kurdish, Spanish, English, and Farsi floated through our dinner conversation representing a beautiful spread of ethnic groups and colors.
We laughed at the combination of languages and hand gestures we were using to communicate. The children and father were excited to use the English they had learned in school. The eldest daughter, though veiled, was not the least bit shy. Bright brown eyes and a huge white smile, her confidence soared as she was able to converse in little patches throughout the evening. “Are you in school now”, I asked while trying to pull from Arabic I haven’t used much since Egypt. “No, school here is in Kurdish, so I don’t attend.” A difficult reality for refugee life.
I don’t understand them, but there is so much I would like to learn from them. Everyone I meet wants to go to America, yet there is so much my country can learn from people like this.