When “Temporary” Becomes More Than a Childhood

After more than two decades of working in humanitarian contexts across Africa, Asia and the Middle East, one observation continues to challenge me:

Many refugee situations are described as temporary, but for millions of people, displacement lasts a lifetime.

I have visited refugee camps and settlements across different countries and continents. I have met children who have never seen the villages their parents still call home. I have spoken with mothers who arrived as young women and are now grandmothers. I have met young people who were born in displacement, attended school in displacement and are now raising families of their own in displacement.

The world often views refugee response through the lens of emergency. Yet for many communities, displacement is not an emergency measured in months. It is a reality measured in decades.

This raises an important question:

What does it mean for a child to spend their entire childhood in a place that the world still considers temporary?

For a child, childhood is not temporary. It is life itself.

A child cannot postpone growing up until a conflict ends. They cannot put their dreams on hold while political solutions are negotiated. They need education today. They need healthcare today. They need protection today. They need opportunities today.

The greatest lesson refugee children have taught me is that hope does not wait for certainty.

Over the years, I have met children studying under trees, young people determined to pursue higher education despite immense barriers and parents making extraordinary sacrifices to create opportunities for their families. I have witnessed communities establishing businesses, supporting one another and building social networks that create a sense of belonging even in the most difficult circumstances.

Their resilience is remarkable.

But resilience should never become an excuse for the rest of us to lower our ambitions for them.

Too often, refugee communities are defined by what they have lost. Yet when I spend time with them, I am reminded of their aspirations. Parents want the same things every parent wants: safety, education, dignity, opportunity and a better future for their children.

Children dream of becoming teachers, doctors, engineers, entrepreneurs and leaders. Their dreams are not temporary simply because their displacement status is.

This has changed how I think about refugee response.

Humanitarian assistance remains essential. Food, shelter, healthcare, water and protection save lives and must continue.

But when displacement lasts 10, 20, or even 30 years, we must think beyond survival.

We must invest in education that prepares children for the future. We must create pathways for livelihoods and economic participation. We must strengthen systems that allow children and families to thrive, not merely endure. We must support host communities that generously share resources despite their own challenges. And we must recognise refugees not only as beneficiaries of assistance but as contributors, innovators, workers, parents and leaders.

The reality is that many refugee children will spend significant portions of their lives in displacement. Some may never return to the places their parents once called home.

That reality demands a shift in how we think and how we act.

Every year on World Refugee Day, we speak about displacement, resilience and the urgent need to support people forced to flee their homes. Yet for me, this day is a reminder that behind every statistic is a child growing up, learning, dreaming and building a future despite uncertainty.

The refugee communities I have met over the years have taught me many things, but perhaps the most important lesson is this:

Human dignity is not temporary.

Neither should our commitment to protecting it be.

By Lilian Mumbi, Food and Cash Programming Director, World Vision Ethiopia