"The Lost Boys of Cairo", Caroline Moorehead

The Prologue to Caroline Moorehead's "Human Cargo" is called "The Lost Boys of Cairo." It documents her interactions with mainly Liberian refugees who are hiding in Cairo. It is a powerful piece of writing, with incredible snapshots of the stories of individuals who have lost everything and whose future is generally bleak:
"Fear, memory, expectations, endlessly deferred, rule in the quicksands of Cairo's refugee world. Psychiatrists say that it is important for peace of mind to live in the present, to come to terms with daily existence, and neither brood about the past nor attach too much meaning to the future; but the refugees trapped in Cairo today, haunted by terrifying memories of loss and savagery, seduced by a longing for a world they perceive as stable and fulfilling, cannot accept the present. Cairo is a prison sentence, to be endured because there is no option. They simply wait...
Cairo is not just one of the most polluted cities in the world; it is dirty, intensely overcrowded, broken down and full of rubble, with roads built up on legs above other roads in an attempt to dispel the traffic jams that paralyse the city for all the day and most of the night. Occasionally, between the brick and the cement, you catch glimpses of filigreed minarets, delicately carved porticoes and arcades, stately facades and the traces of sumptuous courtyards, earlier Cairos of the Islamic mastercrafstmen and Coptic merchants, when the city was a splendid place of pleasure garden and cool palaces, civil servants in their red fezzes strolled along tree-lined avenues and visitors drank sherbet in famous tearooms. It is the utterly derelict nature of the city today that partly makes possible its absorption of so many refugees - 200,000? 500,000? No one can say for sure. Around the city's edges, entrepreneurs keep constructing identical breeze-block buildings in ever-widening circles, leaving the top floor unfinished so that other floors can be added year by year. From the top of the buildings along the Nile, on the rare moments when the smog evaporates and the setting sun lights up the horizon, you can see the Pyramids of Giza, framed by the jagged edges of yet more unfinished blocks. Wherever the buildings are most derelict, the electicity supplies most sporadic, the water least reliable, there the refugees live." (pages 8-9)

A Refugee Story from "Human Cargo" by Caroline Moorehead

One day a man in a country in Africa was arrested and accused of belonging to an illegal opposition group. He was sent to prison and tortured. In his cell was a very small window. By standing up very straight in the far corner of the room, he could just see a field outside. From time to time, cows came to graze in it. As the weeks passed, he grew to recognise their shapes and colours. One in particular pleased him, and he gave her a name. From that day on, whenever she passed his window, he talked to her. He told her about his wife and children who had disappeared, about his house and his parents, and the village where he grew up.
The day came when he was freed. He left his African country and went into exile, taking his cow with him. In his new country, he was offered an appointment with a doctor to talk through his experiences. On the first day, he arrived in good time, leading his cow behind him. When the receptionist ushered him into the consulting room, he made sure the cow had plenty of room to follow him. Week after week, the man and his cow attended sessions together.
Several months went by. One day, the doctor suggested that the moment had come for the man to bid farewell to his cow. He replied that it was too soon. Several more months passed. Then the morning came when the man accepted that he could keep the cow with him no longer. That day, he was extremely sad. He brought the cow with him as usual, and then, crying, told her that the time had come for her to go home. Saying goodbye to his cow made him weep more than he had wept for many years.