Martian Tourist: behind the magic of the modern first-world

"A Refugee Camp in the Heart of the City," is how they billed it: Medecines Sans Frontiers (Doctors without Borders) sent a traveling exhibit of a typical refugee camp (though not typical in any sense, since in each city where this camp was situated, there was actual access to clean water, plumbing, vitamins found in nature and food not pounded into cake, and a not so desperate fear of cordite stinging your nose hairs). A few American cities toured this excursion de douleur. Here in Los Angles, it landed in Griffith Park. Not to far from the steady thrum of the 5 freeway and the thack of the 9-hole. This was a life-sized diorama of the typical elements found in a refugee camp-- but without the very real horror. I have assembled a few visual details below... Donate now!

Upon entering the camp, your infants are weighed, catalogued and the necessary care and feeding is outlined. Like most of our first-world attempts to convey the direness of the third-world (is this this fourth world?), it feels a bit disney meets performance-art. But it is effective nonetheless. People around the world are being driven out of their homes, 42 million have fled armed conflicts and are searching for safety.

Proper procedures for weighing your child will ensure adequate nutrition is provided.

I don't think I was prepared for these. The actual drawings of the children in the camps. As this first one demonstrates... you see a pretty boat. A pretty, blue band of water. Pretty, green leafy trees... and a soldier assassinating who is most certainly your father, or brother-- the only available male still on hand who might pose resistance. But as the two children tucked into the right of the frame are blood red, it would pose that this is perhaps your neighbor. And you made it to the camp, and thus retained your facility to record as such. Click on the images to see them larger and realize the magic of our first-world: we sit. we flush. it disappears. Man we are blessed.

These kids are six....

... and eight

... and five...

... hug your own children. Pray they never discover Crayola red, unless identifying roosters or sunsets. And here we have a toy car made of tin from a industrial-sized tin of insect repellent. Kids. They have a funny way of finding the fun. It's not a gift or a talent. They just don't know any better. Silly kids. Don't they know, tricks are for kids.