TORN FROM HOME

Stacey Mann works as an exhibit and education experience designer. She consults nationally with museums and cultural institutions on how best to engage audiences both onsite and online. Her areas of expertise include the pedagogical (and playful!) design of learning environments, public interpretation of human rights and social justice issues, social and cultural capital in museums, and the intersection of civic engagement with media literacy.

When I was first approached about developing Torn From Home, a children’s exhibition about refugee rights, I was intrigued, although not all together convinced that it was a good idea. I mean clearly, it was feasible – all it takes to build an exhibition is time and money. But was it reasonable? Was it responsible? Anyone who has spent much time in children’s museums over the past decade (as I have) can sometimes have trouble distinguishing one from another: grocery store, check; doctor’s office, check; water table, check; music room, check. But then it occurred to me that what I missed most in the contemporary children’s museum landscape was recognition that kids are a lot smarter than we give them credit for. Why couldn’t an exhibit about what it means to be a refugee be designed to target young audiences and allow them to start exploring and understanding the world as global citizen?

Our intrepid development team consisted of me; Linda Quinn, the Executive Director of Lied Discovery Children’s Museum; Elaine Bole, former spokesperson for United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees; and Pamela Omidyar, founder of Humanity United. Each of us brought to the project a range of personal and professional experiences that would help shape the exhibition over the course of almost two years. Our earliest conversations were perhaps some of the most influential as we began to challenge the notion of what is “appropriate” for children to learn about in today’s world. Emotional safety was critical, as was a narrative that focused on the resilience of the

TORN

human spirit. Yes, to be a refugee meant to lose one’s home, one’s belongings, and sometimes one’s family members. But, the story was also about survival, working together, and defining universal human rights: safety, food, clean water, shelter, health care, education, and play.

As a novice to the global refugee crisis, I had never been to a camp or, honestly, even met a refugee, at least not a recent one. At first, play seemed to me like an odd addition to our project requirements. But with every research interview I conducted, I heard similar stories from aid workers and refugees alike of seeing joy and hope in the broad smiles of children at play in these camps, surrounded by squalor. They spoke of a love of football (soccer) and singing, and the creativity of children crafting toys and musical instruments from anything from wood, to mud, to grass, to cans, to clothing, to flip flops. In order to accurately and honestly tell the story of these children, we set about collecting artifacts, stories, and reference materials – whatever we could find to serve as inspiration for us and for our audience of young learners and their families.

We worked with agencies in the United States to locate refugee children here who might be willing to share their stories and be included in the exhibition. Espoire Habimana (whose essay is featured here) was one of those children. Working with Espoire (whose name means hope in French) and his brother, Patrick, helped me better understand the complexity of emotion and experience that many of these families and in particular the children go through not only in their country of origin, but also in the uncertainty of the camps and the unfamiliarity of a new home in a new place. In our first conversation, Espoire spoke of his love of soccer. At the time Patrick was still very withdrawn and quiet, but with the introduction of a soccer ball to the exhibit photoshoot his eyes lit up and the brothers relaxed into a familiar banter. It was nothing less than beautiful.

As we continued our research, I had the honor of traveling to the Kyangwali Refugee Camp near Hoima in Uganda, home to several thousand refugees from South Sudan and the Democratic Republic of Congo. Through the coordination of UNHCR and the generosity of three local primary schools we were gifted with incredible toys, each crafted by one of the students. Some toys were sobering, carved machetes or finely detailed machine guns made of reeds and wood. Others

from Home

Stacey Mann

mirrored their new surroundings, replica cell phones, cameras and cars, like those used by aid workers and visitors to the camp. But the most precious were those that reflected a remarkable creative spirit and inspired pride in those that had created them. Many of the girls presented us with delicately constructed dolls and intricately woven mats. Many of the boys had constructed beautifully made balls from plastic bags and handwoven rope. One remarkable boy engineered a fully-functional steering wheel and drive shaft connected to a series of wheels that he could drive around the school yard. It was difficult to accept such gifts knowing how few resources these children had to begin with but they were pleased to know that their toys would be shared with children in another country as part of a project that would help share their experience as refugees.

With our exhibition nearing completion, we invited the resettled families we worked with during development out to Las Vegas for the opening. We wanted them to see the final installation and get some honest feedback about whether we had accurately captured the key aspects of refugee life in a way that honored their experiences but still allowed visitors to engage meaningfully and safely with the content. As the families moved through the exhibition and were introduced to one another, there was suddenly a quiet commotion over near the Toys display. Espoire and Patrick had discovered the collection and were excitedly pointing at the phones, the cameras, and the balls describing the toys they had made when they were in the camps. Even more exciting was when they discovered we had an activity set up nearby to make soccer balls from plastic bags and rope. The withdrawn Patrick from months before was nowhere to be found. He and Espoire wasted no time schooling us in the proper ball-making techniques and showing off their remarkable skills; skills that were hard-earned and enabled them to create new worlds for themselves when their own was shaken to the core.

This experience taught me more than I ever could have anticipated – about resilience, compassion, the capacity of the human spirit, and above all the power of play. Although I began the project as a play enthusiast (never met a puddle I didn’t love); I came out the other side a play advocate and play evangelist. Too often we see the benefits of play “ outweighed” by a perceived need for “real learning.” But exploratory and inventive play is the most real, born out of a curiosity about the world around us and a need to better understand it. Play helped the refugee children we met not only make sense of the world they were in, but also escape it when that was the only safe emotional outlet. It hardly seems hyperbole to argue that play can save lives.

LONG LIVE PLAY.