Washington DC

Indonesia’s Krakatoa may have had its most historic explosion in August 1883, but thanks to years of civil conflict in Sri Lanka it managed to find its way back into the news this week. “About 260 Sri Lankan asylum-seekers detained in Indonesia have threatened to blow up their wooden boat if the navy forces them to disembark,” reported the AFP. Their vessel, which had been en route to Australia, was stopped in Indonesian waters near Krakatoa.

Reading this story—and any number of other stories about people undertaking dangerous journeys out of desperation—may remind one that many of the world’s travelers aren’t backpackers, explorers, or jet-setting businessmen; they are refugees. Other writers have pointed out the etymological connection between the words “travel” and “travail”, but surely few understand the link better than refugees. Travail, according to one dictionary, is

1.    painfully difficult or burdensome work; toil
2.    pain, anguish or suffering resulting from mental or physical hardship
3.    the pain of childbirth

The UNCHR annual report released earlier this year put the worldwide refugee population at 42 million. Most are internally displaced, meaning they’ve not left their country of origin but have had to move within the country. For example, there has been mass displacement in Pakistan this year because of internal conflict.

The photo above wasn’t taken at a refugee camp, on an overcrowded ship, or in a war zone, but it does represent the pain of displacement, the pain of travel when it is not entirely a voluntary undertaking. The girl is Tibetan, protesting outside the Chinese embassy in Washington DC on a spring day in 2008. I don’t know the story of her own experiences, but she was protesting with other Tibetans who would have known that travel isn’t always cruise ships, beaches, and the occasional stomach bug. For some more than others—for at least 42 million people this year—travel is firmly rooted in the word travail.

For a quick overview of the current global refugee situation, click on Mapping out refugees and asylum seekers worldwide.

On January 20, 2009, Barack Obama was sworn in as the 44th President of the United States.

Also on that day, and in the same city (Washington DC), the man in this photograph was selling newspapers on 14th Street, just outside the Columbia Heights metro station.  It was bitterly cold, but neither he nor the rest of the city really cared about that.  People were outdoors, flowing enthusiastically and en masse toward the center of town to watch a man who, had he been born at a different period in American history, could have been bought and sold like a piece of property.  But on this day, on this day, he was instead being sworn-in as president—President of an ever-evolving nation.

Whether one was heading to the national Mall for the history or the hope (i.e., the first black president or a change in U.S. policy), one thing was certain: we were a lot of imperfect people who, in this moment, felt on the cusp of something significant, something that made us feel better about our corporate selves. There were many parts of Obama's inaugural speech that drew a nod of approval (or a downright roar) from the crowd.  Here was one:

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds.

And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to the suffering outside our borders, nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

Inaugurations are the high point of many presidencies, lush with hopes that time and circumstance will soon enough level.  But whatever the future holds, the inauguration itself will remain a day to remember and celebrate.  For on that day history was made.

(If interested in seeing more images from inauguration weekend, visit my “Obama Inauguration” gallery on Imagekind.)