Refugees
The Most Important Thing
Photography by Brian Sokol
What would you bring if violence or persecution forced you to flee your country?
28 May 2019
Refugees
The Most Important Thing
Photography by Brian Sokol
What would you bring if violence or persecution forced you to flee your country?
28 May 2019
Some fled with no warning at all. Others had weeks or months to anxiously weigh their options – until mounting danger finally forced them to leave their homes behind.
Over the past seven years, UNHCR has worked with photographer Brian Sokol on a refugee portraiture project called The Most Important Thing. Through images and interviews, it reveals some of the anguished decisions refugee families face when they are forced to flee their homes.
The things they carried offer insight into their lives and cultures – and provide clues about the circumstances in which they fled. The Sudanese people featured here mainly prioritized objects that could help keep them alive during their difficult trek to safety: a pot, an axe, a water jug, a basket. For Syrians, the objects were largely sentimental: an old ring, a torn photograph, the key to a door that may no longer exist.
Those who fled Mali often took objects reflecting their cultural identity, while those from Central African Republic tended to bring practical objects, like a sewing machine or a pair of crutches. Many of the Angolans preparing to return home still possess the items they fled with – some as long as 50 years ago. The Rohingya, forced to flee so suddenly, tended to carry whatever they had with them as they were going about their daily lives.
To date, more than 60 refugees from six different countries have taken part in this project. The selection below features 11 of them. While these stunning images illuminate the experiences of people forced to flee, they also challenge viewers to contemplate what they would take with them if they had to make such a perilous journey.
Over the past seven years, UNHCR has worked with photographer Brian Sokol on a refugee portraiture project called The Most Important Thing. Through images and interviews, it reveals some of the anguished decisions refugee families face when they are forced to flee their homes
The things they carried offer insight into their lives and cultures – and provide clues about the circumstances in which they fled. The Sudanese people featured here mainly prioritized objects that could help keep them alive during their difficult trek to safety: a pot, an axe, a water jug, a basket. For Syrians, the objects were largely sentimental: an old ring, a torn photograph, the key to a door that may no longer exist.
Those who fled Mali often took objects reflecting their cultural identity, while those from Central African Republic tended to bring practical objects, like a sewing machine or a pair of crutches. Many of the Angolans preparing to return home still possess the items they fled with – some as long as 50 years ago. The Rohingya, forced to flee so suddenly, tended to carry whatever they had with them as they were going about their daily lives.
To date, more than 60 refugees from six different countries have taken part in this project. The selection below features 11 of them. While these stunning images illuminate the experiences of people forced to flee, they also challenge viewers to contemplate what they would take with them if they had to make such a perilous journey.
Omar, 37
“It gives me some relief from my sorrows.”
Omar holds a buzuq, or long-necked lute – the most important thing that he was able to bring with him to Domiz refugee camp in the Kurdistan region of Iraq. Omar decided it was time to flee his home in Damascus, the Syrian capital, the night his neighbours were murdered. “The killers came into their home, whoever they were, and savagely cut my neighbour and his two sons,” he recalls. Omar says that playing the buzuq “fills me with a sense of nostalgia and reminds me of my homeland. For a short time, it gives me some relief from my sorrows.”
Omar, 37
“It gives me some relief from my sorrows.”
Omar holds a buzuq, or long-necked lute – the most important thing that he was able to bring with him to Domiz refugee camp in the Kurdistan region of Iraq. Omar decided it was time to flee his home in Damascus, the Syrian capital, the night his neighbours were murdered. “The killers came into their home, whoever they were, and savagely cut my neighbour and his two sons,” he recalls. Omar says that playing the buzuq “fills me with a sense of nostalgia and reminds me of my homeland. For a short time, it gives me some relief from my sorrows.”
Dowla, 22
To help her children reach safety, this young mother had to manage a balancing act.
Several months before this picture was taken, repeated bombing raids forced Dowla and her six children to flee their village in Sudan’s Blue Nile state. The most important object she was able to bring with her is the wooden pole balanced over her shoulder. She used it to carry her six children during the 10-day journey to Doro refugee camp, in South Sudan’s Maban County. At times, the children were too tired to walk, forcing her to carry two on either side.
Dowla, 22
To help her children reach safety, this young mother had to manage a balancing act.
Several months before this picture was taken, repeated bombing raids forced Dowla and her six children to flee their village in Sudan’s Blue Nile state. The most important object she was able to bring with her is the wooden pole balanced over her shoulder. She used it to carry her six children during the 10-day journey to Doro refugee camp, in South Sudan’s Maban County. At times, the children were too tired to walk, forcing her to carry two on either side.
Abdou Ag Moussa, 34
Two wheels and a tank of petrol carried Abdou to safety.
Abdou’s family fled Mali after his mother and four other women were kidnapped, taken to the desert and shot. When Abdou learned what had happened, he waited until dark and escaped with his wife and two children into the desert. He returned to bury his mother a few days later. The most important thing Abdou brought with him was the motorcycle he’s sitting on in this family portrait, taken in March 2013 outside of their shelter in Mentao refugee camp, Burkina Faso. After burying his mother, Abdou put his wife and children into a car and he and his father followed on the motorcycle, which he says saved their lives.
Abdou Ag Moussa, 34
Two wheels and a tank of petrol carried Abdou to safety.
Abdou’s family fled Mali after his mother and four other women were kidnapped, taken to the desert and shot. When Abdou learned what had happened, he waited until dark and escaped with his wife and two children into the desert. He returned to bury his mother a few days later. The most important thing Abdou brought with him was the motorcycle he’s sitting on in this family portrait, taken in March 2013 outside of their shelter in Mentao refugee camp, Burkina Faso. After burying his mother, Abdou put his wife and children into a car and he and his father followed on the motorcycle, which he says saved their lives.
Elizabeth, 72
“It was a gift from my pastor on the day of my baptism.”
Elizabeth says her Bible is the most important thing she brought with her when she fled war in Angola. It’s the only thing she has from that journey 52 years ago. “It was a gift from my pastor on the day of my baptism,” she says. Although she found safety in the country now called DRC, living in exile has been difficult. The mother of seven children, she has been separated for years from various family members and struggles with the feeling that she doesn’t have a real home. “In this world, bad things happen, but in the Bible you can find words which help you.”
Elizabeth, 72
“It was a gift from my pastor on the day of my baptism.”
Elizabeth says her Bible is the most important thing she brought with her when she fled war in Angola. It’s the only thing she has from that journey 52 years ago. “It was a gift from my pastor on the day of my baptism,” she says. Although she found safety in the country now called DRC, living in exile has been difficult. The mother of seven children, she has been separated for years from various family members and struggles with the feeling that she doesn’t have a real home. “In this world, bad things happen, but in the Bible you can find words which help you.”
Hafaja, 60
“When the light is on, I feel more safe.”
Hafaja was outside of her house when attackers came to her village, in Myanmar’s Rakhine State. “If I’d had even one minute to choose something else, I would have brought our money,” she says. “We had 500,000 kyat (about US$375) that was our family savings, but it is lost.” Hafaja watched her house burn from a nearby forest, across a field littered with the bodies of her neighbours who did not manage to flee in time. She then walked for three days with the panel in one hand and a walking stick in the other. “Solar is important because when night comes, the light allows me to pray and cook,” she says from Bangladesh. “When the light is on, I feel more safe. I lost my land, my money and my house, but it doesn’t matter. I still have my husband and my children. Others weren’t so lucky.”
Hafaja, 60
“When the light is on, I feel more safe.”
Hafaja was outside of her house when attackers came to her village, in Myanmar’s Rakhine State. “If I’d had even one minute to choose something else, I would have brought our money,” she says. “We had 500,000 kyat (about US$375) that was our family savings, but it is lost.” Hafaja watched her house burn from a nearby forest, across a field littered with the bodies of her neighbours who did not manage to flee in time. She then walked for three days with the panel in one hand and a walking stick in the other. “Solar is important because when night comes, the light allows me to pray and cook,” she says from Bangladesh. “When the light is on, I feel more safe. I lost my land, my money and my house, but it doesn’t matter. I still have my husband and my children. Others weren’t so lucky.”
Aboubacar Ag Ahmadou, 45
“The goat brings me hope.”
Aboubacar fled Mali with his wife and two children on a donkey cart, taking with them a single goat. He says that, apart from the clothes he was wearing and a little money, the goat was the one thing he could not leave behind. It reminded him of all the things he had worked hard to acquire back home. “The goat brings me hope, joy and a sense that things can change for the better,” said Aboubacar, who was photographed with his family near their shelter in Goudebou refugee camp, Burkina Faso. He also hopes it signals to others that he was a man of some means back in Mali.
Aboubacar Ag Ahmadou, 45
“The goat brings me hope.”
Aboubacar fled Mali with his wife and two children on a donkey cart, taking with them a single goat. He says that, apart from the clothes he was wearing and a little money, the goat was the one thing he could not leave behind. It reminded him of all the things he had worked hard to acquire back home. “The goat brings me hope, joy and a sense that things can change for the better,” said Aboubacar, who was photographed with his family near their shelter in Goudebou refugee camp, Burkina Faso. He also hopes it signals to others that he was a man of some means back in Mali
Magboola, 20
This cooking pot was small enough to carry, yet big enough to feed her family.
Magboola and her family weathered air raids for several months, but decided it was time to leave their village of Bofe, in Sudan’s Blue Nile state, the night that soldiers arrived and opened fire. With her three children, she travelled for 12 days from Bofe to the town of El Fudj, on the South Sudanese border. The most important thing she was able to bring with her is the cooking pot she holds in this photograph, taken at Jamam refugee camp, in South Sudan’s Maban County. It was small enough she could travel with it, yet big enough to cook sorghum for herself and her three daughters during their journey.
Magboola, 20
This cooking pot was small enough to carry, yet big enough to feed her family.
Magboola and her family weathered air raids for several months, but decided it was time to leave their village of Bofe, in Sudan’s Blue Nile state, the night that soldiers arrived and opened fire. With her three children, she travelled for 12 days from Bofe to the town of El Fudj, on the South Sudanese border. The most important thing she was able to bring with her is the cooking pot she holds in this photograph, taken at Jamam refugee camp, in South Sudan’s Maban County. It was small enough she could travel with it, yet big enough to cook sorghum for herself and her three daughters during their journey.
Omar, 102
“If hadn’t had my lati, I would have crawled to Bangladesh.”
The most important thing that Omar, who is 102 and blind, brought with him is his lati or walking stick. He and his fellow villagers fled their homes after witnessing a horrific attack on the neighbouring village and several brutal murders. Omar found his way by following the voices of the other refugees and using his lati. At one point, after hopping off of a fisherman’s boat, he was lost in a mangrove forest for seven hours, up to his neck in water. He weeps as he recounts the harrowing tale. Eventually he found his way to shore but was exhausted after the ordeal. Omar says leaving his village was the hardest thing he has ever done, but now that he is safe and reunited with his family, he is happy and at peace. “If you laugh, others will laugh with you. And if you stop laughing, you will die.”
Omar, 102
“If hadn’t had my lati, I would have crawled to Bangladesh.”
The most important thing that Omar, who is 102 and blind, brought with him is his lati or walking stick. He and his fellow villagers fled their homes after witnessing a horrific attack on the neighbouring village and several brutal murders. Omar found his way by following the voices of the other refugees and using his lati. At one point, after hopping off of a fisherman’s boat, he was lost in a mangrove forest for seven hours, up to his neck in water. He weeps as he recounts the harrowing tale. Eventually he found his way to shore but was exhausted after the ordeal. Omar says leaving his village was the hardest thing he has ever done, but now that he is safe and reunited with his family, he is happy and at peace. “If you laugh, others will laugh with you. And if you stop laughing, you will die.”
Iman, 25
“As long as I have it with me, I’m connected to God.”
Iman – seen here with her son Ahmed and daughter Aishia, in Nizip refugee camp, Turkey – fled her home in Aleppo after months of conflict. She felt compelled to flee when she heard accounts of fighters sexually harassing women in her city. The journey from Syria to Turkey was full of danger, and Iman lost five relatives. The most important thing she was able to bring with her is the Koran she holds in this photograph. She says the Koran inspires a sense of protection. “As long as I have it with me, I’m connected to God.”
Iman, 25
“As long as I have it with me, I’m connected to God.”
Iman – seen here with her son Ahmed and daughter Aishia, in Nizip refugee camp, Turkey – fled her home in Aleppo after months of conflict. She felt compelled to flee when she heard accounts of fighters sexually harassing women in her city. The journey from Syria to Turkey was full of danger, and Iman lost five relatives. The most important thing she was able to bring with her is the Koran she holds in this photograph. She says the Koran inspires a sense of protection. “As long as I have it with me, I’m connected to God.”
Fideline, 13
“I want to study so that I can become someone.”
Fideline holds one of the school notebooks she was able to salvage when she and her family fled for their lives and boarded a boat and crossed the Oubangi River from Central African Republic to Batanga, Democratic Republic of the Congo. The final straw was when the teenager and her friends saw a businessman being summarily executed. Fideline recalls screaming as she sprinted home. Her father decided they had to leave immediately. “I couldn’t take my school bag, my shoes or the coloured ribbons for my hair, but I did bring my notebooks and my pen,” says the top student. “We have suffered so much,” she says, adding: “I want to study so that I can become someone.”
Fideline, 13
“I want to study so that I can become someone.”
Fideline holds one of the school notebooks she was able to salvage when she and her family fled for their lives and boarded a boat and crossed the Oubangi River from Central African Republic to Batanga, Democratic Republic of the Congo. The final straw was when the teenager and her friends saw a businessman being summarily executed. Fideline recalls screaming as she sprinted home. Her father decided they had to leave immediately. “I couldn’t take my school bag, my shoes or the coloured ribbons for my hair, but I did bring my notebooks and my pen,” says the top student. “We have suffered so much,” she says, adding: “I want to study so that I can become someone.”
Sebastian, 65
“My father gave me his jacket to keep me warm.”
Sebastian was seven years old the night that his family, having fled Angola’s war of independence, arrived in the country now known as DRC. Some 60 years later, he recalls, “It was cold, and my father gave me his jacket to keep me warm. I was wearing it as we crossed the border. When I see that suit, even now as we’re talking about it, I think about Angola. The day I can cross back into Angola, I will have it on me, and I will remember my father. I will wear it because I am now a father myself.”
Sebastian, 65
“My father gave me his jacket to keep me warm.”
Sebastian was seven years old the night that his family, having fled Angola’s war of independence, arrived in the country now known as DRC. Some 60 years later, he recalls, “It was cold, and my father gave me his jacket to keep me warm. I was wearing it as we crossed the border. When I see that suit, even now as we’re talking about it, I think about Angola. The day I can cross back into Angola, I will have it on me, and I will remember my father. I will wear it because I am now a father myself.”