The road to Kakuma, in the northwestern corner of Kenya, is long and full of potholes. Occasionally, young boys spot our car approaching and quickly begin pouring dirt into these potholes, pretending to repair them — hoping we’ll give them some loose change for the favor.
“Do they ever actually fix it?” I ask our driver, John.
“No, not really.”
But for the occasional four-wheel-drive vehicle belonging to one international agency or another, the road is empty. The only time the road does fill up is when a convoy of trucks — sometimes 20 or even 30 of them — rumble toward Kakuma to deliver food to one of the world’s oldest refugee camps. On this day, all we pass is one broken-down bus, its passengers wilting beside it in the hot sun.
[For more of this story, written by Jacob Kushner, go to https://psmag.com/permanent-di...2b8cdd5c9#.ooz8qew1d]
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