 Life often haunts us, and we submit to its tests. It crushes us down, where anxiety triumphs over our hopes. A montage features clips from a Burundi refugee camp that hosts people fleeing the Democratic Republic of the Congo. We always come from somewhere. What is impressive is the story. Your neighbor is an example. He gets ahead. He proved to you that when we want something, we aim for it. That when we look for something, we can find it. Failure. Take control of your life and rewrite your future. In a classroom, a male teacher who is black addresses his students. My name is Patience, and I fled my country due to the lack of security. As the law says, children have the right to education. We do not have access to educational resources. Outside, a black woman meets with young black children. When I first found out that Nelson Mandela was dead, four days had already passed. I find myself to be abandoned, as if in a grave, but I am not buried. It is true. My name is Consolada. I am a political refugee. I am separated from everything. We have no access to information or training. There is no internet. There are not even computers. Consolada poses with a group from the camp. A young black man looks directly at us. My name is Dumz. I fled the atrocities committed by rebel groups in the Congo. I like reading. I like writing. I am a slam artist, and I am also a journalist. We pass our days mostly at home, but we wander in the camp without anything to do. In just a few minutes, our lives changed. We had a life and responsibilities in the Congo that we no longer have here. We are isolated from the world. What we miss the most is culture. White people build in a workshop. The dream is all the more important when we have lost everything. That is why the approach of libraries without borders moved me so much. It is really the good approach. This is the first and the last thing we should give to people who have lost everything. All of a sudden, there should be people coming out of nowhere, carrying colorful suitcases, raising up tents, and inside each suitcase there is wonder. Colorful wooden cases are built, locked, and wheeled into a van. A truck drives down a wide dirt road lined with interested onlookers. The truck stops, and its canvas cover is lifted. Looking on, children point and smile. In the back of the truck, black plastic wrap is peeled off of several colorful cases. Later, the cases sit in a row inside a brick building. The cases are unlocked and opened. Each one separates into different components. Components are unpacked in fast motion, filling the large open room with tables, chairs, workstations, and floor mats. Later, black teenagers sit and watch a black man present a graphic novel. E-readers are pulled from cases and read by the men and women of the camp. Consolata is shown a tablet. Our children will become intelligent with this, just like the children where you are from. Tomorrow, or after tomorrow, our country will be at peace. Patience shows kids and atlas. These children will help the Congo. Dumbs turns the pages of a book and swipes through a tablet. This can really help me. It must, because I work a lot and I'm proud of it. I give it my best as long as the conditions are right to do so. The unpacked boxes outfit a classroom where children read with adults and laugh at picture books. Finger puppets are slipped onto fingers and groups of children play board games. Camp residents gather at digital tablets, wearing headphones as they scroll. Ideas box, libraries without borders. With the support of A.S. Foundation, Association Pierre Ballon, Marie de Paris, République Français, Ministière des affaires étrangers, in partnership with Stark, U-N-H-C-R, a video made by video, shaping ideals into videos. www.ideas-box.org