The Local Side of the Refugee Crisis
By Katia Lopez-Hodoyan
I vividly remember the cold. The weather would drop dramatically without notice. I was constantly shivering, lifting my shoulders towards my ears and looking down at my knees, trying to block the wind from my face. The refugees would kindly smile and offer me some tea. With steam rising from the cup, they looked at me intrigued. In broken English, they often asked: Why are you here? I just smiled back. I couldn’t begin to respond, especially when I didn’t really know the answer myself. It was December 2015. I would have a month to figure it out.