Goodbyes are never easy, but this one was especially tough. It’s a juncture where we begin reflecting on what has passed and how we might carry it forward. This is how I spent my sixth week at Migrants Organise.
I began by finishing the work we’d been building up over the last five weeks—completing the stories I had been working on. I was fortunate enough to record a 20-minute video interview with one of our volunteers, who leads a walking group I’d joined twice before. It was inspiring to hear about her life and be motivated by the resilience and strength of her personality.
I acknowledge and embrace that it took me five weeks of continuous presence and connection to earn the opportunity to interview a volunteer—someone whose immigration story is deeply moving but whose life now feels relatively stable. Building trust is not easy, but it’s possible. We’re all human. If we converse long enough, we’ll find common ground. And trust often comes from mutual respect for one another’s experiences and suffering.
Reflecting on my internship, I believe I connected with members well enough for them to trust me, and for me to trust them. But sometimes it’s not just about trust—it’s about vulnerability.
One of the projects I was really proud of came to an end when the member featured in the film shared that they didn’t feel safe having the video go public due to their precarious circumstances. They acknowledged that they appreciated the short film and the effort behind it but wasn’t comfortable sharing it publicly. At first, I felt sad—I thought I’d done everything right. I remembered how comfortable they was with my camera and how they trusted both me and the organization. But ultimately, it was about more than trust. I realized it wasn’t about me. If someone doesn’t feel safe sharing their story, it doesn’t mean I did something wrong. It simply means there are visible and invisible barriers that require more effort to overcome. Feeling safe isn’t just about the people involved—it’s also about the environment we exist in.
On Thursday, a Palestinian member cooked Maqlouba, a cherished Palestinian dish, for a large group of attendees from diverse backgrounds. A lovely woman from Gaza—who had lost 180 members of her family—graciously shared a piece of her home through cooking, then quietly left to attend her son's primary school graduation. If that’s not resilience, I don’t know what is. The members of Migrants Organise are some of the most giving, cheerful, and considerate people I’ve ever met.
The perfect way to end my sixth week was by joining the football community group for the third time. After spending time filming, getting to know the members, and understanding the game’s dynamics, this group became my favorite. I don’t play football, though I did earn some praise—when I stopped a fast-moving ball, the coach said, “Oh, nice touch.” I find the game fascinating in its simplicity. You don’t need many words, especially when facing language barriers. You just play and have fun—a kind of joy everyone understands.
Those few days were filled with selfies and snapshots. One of my most cherished photos is a group shot with the football team and another of me where they were playing in the background.
Now, as I pass the time during a dull wait at the airport by writing this blog, I keep thinking about how I’ll move forward—with all the people I’ve met, the stories I’ve heard, and the lessons I’ve learned. It’s a heavy package—heavier than my luggage. And yes, I had to pay extra fees for this one.