Children Will Save the World

Photos from Kurdistan.

I was on my way from Erbil to Suli, a trip I often take to visit my family. I get motion sickness, which usually makes long rides unpleasant. Plot twist: sometimes I look forward to them. Since I can’t stare at my phone or read for long, there’s only one thing left to do—look out the window.

Leaving Erbil starts with familiar sights: the same cityscape, the buildings I’ve known for years, the streets I’ve driven countless times.

The magic begins once we leave the city behind. The views grow unfamiliar, and I start noticing details – new signs, nature’s transformation depending on the season, even the expressions of drivers passing us on the road. It feels like my inner child has taken the wheel of my perspective, and I, the adult, happily give permission.

It happens every time I’m in the passenger seat: that wave of wonder, curiosity, and heightened attention to detail. But there was one time I felt this same sensation without leaving the city. It was during The Raw Society workshop last March.

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The Raw Society Workshop

I first heard of The Raw Society through my friend Hawre Khalid (his Substack is like having a conversation with him: full of adventure and reflections on life).

Hawre told me how he was working on his book with their help. The Raw Society is a photography community led by two kind, inspiring photographers: Jorge Delgado-Ureña and Christelle Enquist . I looked them up. One of their next workshops was in Kurdistan! I emailed them. They replied. I was excited. Then I lost my job. The opportunity seemed gone - until Christelle and Jorge made it happen.

Next thing I knew, I was on the rooftop of a hotel in Erbil, face-to-face with the city’s iconic citadel – one of my favorite views. I met the four other photographers, all new to the country. Jennie was one of them (check out her excellent work and our interview about Iraq and Kurdistan).

The assignment: roam around, find your topic, and create a photobook by the end of the workshop. Some days would take us outside Erbil, but the first two were in the city. I thought my familiarity with the place would be an advantage. Jorge disagreed – explaining that it can be harder to see something new in a place you already know. He was right. But there was only one way forward: hit the streets with my camera.

I was already the youngest in the group and feeling the pressure. I doubted my skills – and now, my vision. What if my photos disappointed not only me, but Jorge and Christelle too? They were supportive, but still, the doubt was there.

That night, a conversation with Christelle was the push I needed. I decided that the next day, I’d give myself permission to see with fresh eyes, and have fun!

The next morning, I woke up as if I were an expat in Erbil. I must have looked the part too, since some shopkeepers spoke to me in English. I played the role, and somehow, it worked. I began noticing the beauty of the maze-like alleys of the old bazaar, the sunlight turning them into a scene from a historical tale, people’s warm gestures and interactions, and the people – kind, open, and happy to be photographed.

It wasn’t a bad first day. The second day was even better. I was happy with many of my shots, and Jorge and Christelle’s feedback was encouraging.

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So, what do children saving the world have to do with this?

What I realized is that what happens on a car ride through unfamiliar places, or in a foreign country thousands of kilometers away from home, can happen in your own city too. All it takes is a shift in mindset – tapping into childlike wonder, wearing the foreigner’s lens. Suddenly you notice the shadows cast by buildings, the quirky things people hang on their doors, and the grass looking greener. Even your own home can seem unfamiliar, like you’re a guest discovering it for the first time.

And with that comes a priceless reward: gratitude – gratitude for your home, the small objects that fill it, your body and health, and the endless list of things we so easily overlook. Because at the end of the day, we are only guests on this earth for a little while, lingering over our belongings like pharaohs guarding treasures they plan to bury with them for an afterlife.

That is why children will save the world – if we let them teach us how to see it.