By Georges Budagu Makoko


“Akimuhana kaza invura ihise”
“Outside help always comes late.”
This old Banyamulenge’s proverb rings painfully true for millions of people around the world as they wait, and wonder about the future following the recent U.S. presidential election.
Now, with the outcome decided, all eyes are on the future and on what America’s choice will mean for them in the next four years.
The decision made by American voters doesn’t only impact people in the United States; it resonates far beyond its borders. For millions of people, U.S.foreign policies mean life or death. Families, especially those displaced by conflict and seeking refuge, depend on America’s role in the world to help them survive, rebuild, and thrive.
Throughout the last two decades, civil wars and political unrest have ravaged countries across the globe, from Sudan, to the Democratic Republic of Congo, to Afghanistan, to Ukraine, just to name a few. These wars have uprooted millions, creating a refugee crisis of unimaginable scale.
Many of these displaced people live in crowded camps or in host cities that barely sustain them. Most will likely remain there for the rest of their lives. Less than 1% of refugees worldwide find resettlement in a third country each year; the other 99% wait, struggling to survive as opportunities for a better life drift further from reach. Refugee children grow up in makeshift homes without access to better education, health, and security that every child deserves, and each year that goes by steals more of their future.
The number of refugees allowed into the United States each year depends on a decision by the president and Congress. The stakes of that decision are impossible to overstate. With each administration, families are either given a path to safety or shut out, left to endure extreme hardship and trauma.
For my friends and family still in Kenya, waiting with their children, the anxiety is sharp. Many are in the process of resettlement to the United States but are uncertain about the next administration’s stance. Under previous administrations, especially that of President Donald Trump, refugee numbers were drastically reduced, a record that understandably makes many families deeply concerned for their future. After the election, I had a chance to speak with asylum seekers here in Maine who, though they have reached U.S. soil, now face an uncertain road ahead.
They, too, wonder what will become of their lives, especially in light of rhetoric that too often frames them as threats rather than as people seeking safety after they have lost everything.
After 22 years here in the U.S. and participating in four presidential elections as a citizen, I have never witnessed a moment like this. Refugees and asylum seekers are at a crossroads, hoping that the leaders of this nation will acknowledge the hardships they have endured, the trauma they carry, and the potential they hold.

The refugee crisis is personal to me. As someone originally from DR Congo and with thousands of relatives displaced both internally and abroad, the heartbreak of forced migration is not an abstract issue. It’s a brutal, everyday reality.
A country like the Democratic Republic of Congo, one of the world’s richest in natural resources, remains among the poorest for its people. For decades, DRC citizens have suffered from the greed of those who strip the land of its wealth, leaving nothing for the people who call it home.
The suffering of my people is devastating. Since 1996, more than 6 million people have died in DRC’s conflict, a number that equates to wiping out the entire populations of Maine, New Hampshire, and Connecticut combined.
We must think critically and compassionately about the root causes driving people from their homes. We must consider durable peace, not just temporary solutions that delay the suffering of millions. I urge world leaders not only to stop these conflicts but to end the cycle that forces millions to abandon their lives and seek refuge on foreign soil. Leaders in conflicting countries must put their people first and find ways to bridge divisions, to bring peace from within.
I am a father of three and each night, as I kiss my children goodnight, I think of the countless children who have no peace, security, or hope for a bright future. Their childhoods are marred by the uncertainty of refugee life; each day reminds them that their future remains helpless and hopeless. My heart aches for the parents who once had stability and hope, only to now live at the mercy of foreign aid.
The international community must act decisively. This cannot be a world where the most vulnerable continue to suffer due to the indifference or delayed actions of people with more power. America’s leadership matters because, for so many, it remains one of the few lifelines left.
Let us not allow another generation to grow up knowing only loss, fear, and uncertainty. If we, as global citizens and community, can work to end the conflicts in the most affected countries, maybe one day no one will be forced to say, “Akimuhana kaza invura ihise.” We owe it to all those who watch and wait, to bring peace and stability.





