President Trump is vowing to send the military to stop migrants trudging from Central America. Europe’s leaders are paying African nations to block migrants from crossing the Mediterranean — and detaining the ones who make it in filthy, overcrowded camps. But Solomon Osakan has a very different approach in this era of rising xenophobia. From his uncluttered desk in northwest Uganda, he manages one of the largest concentrations of refugees anywhere in the world: more than 400,000 people scattered across his rural district. Click here to continue reading from the original source
The United Nations refugee agency warns that a rising number of people are fleeing conflict and persecution around the world at a time when more and more countries are closing their doors. U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees Filippo Grandi says global displacement was at record levels when he took office in January 2016, but the number of displaced has since increased to 68.5 million — with 28 million of them refugees. The crisis affects nearly every region of the world — the Middle East, Africa, Central America, Asia and even in Europe, in Ukraine — and while neighboring countries largely have kept their borders open to refugees, some have not, Grandi says. He notes that most of the burden falls upon poor, developing countries that host 84 percent of the world's refugees. "Yet, further afield, often in rich countries, the trend is toward making it difficult for people to seek asylum — even by closing borders and pushing people away,"…
From the sky, the Dadaab Refugee Camp in Garissa County looks like a tuft of green hair in the balding savannah that is the northern part of Kenya. Sporadic clouds throw black splotches that look like burn scars on the pale peach-hued earth. To the sympathetic eye, the camp looks like an oasis in the middle of the parched land that stretches to the Kenya-Somalia border where terrorism has interrupted the rhythm of life. That Dadaab looks like an oasis is no accident of history or geography. Humanitarian organisations have teamed up to sink boreholes that can produce over a million cubic litres of water at short notice. An intricate arterial network of invisible pipes distributes this water to various blocks in the refugee camp. Click here to continue reading from the original source.
The brokenness of Pauline Chelang'at, a mother of four, captures the extent of the anguish and dejection that has ravaged families trapped in ethnic clashes at Nessuit in Njoro, Nakuru County for more than a week now. The suckling mother of a four-month-old baby has not eaten for two days. Her lips perform a dance as she struggles to speak, her voice tremulous and feeble. Two ripe veins cut across her temples, signs of starvation and helplessness. When she tries to rock her baby, her hands bumble involuntarily. Click here to continue reading from the original source.
The road leading to Hagadera in the Dadaab Refugee Complex is wide, straight and dusty. Inside the camp, where tin and mud-walled houses are shielded from the wind by dry twig fences, the road narrows as it winds its way to the block E6 dispensary in the heart of the camp. This is the first day of the round one vaccination campaign against polio in 12 high-risk counties, including Garissa. The latest round targets children under five years, who will get the bivalent oral polio vaccine. This morning, 29 teams, each comprising a team leader, a community health volunteer and a vaccinator, have been dispatched throughout the refugee camp. Click here to continue reading from the original source.