As we drove to our final performance of the tour, I thought, “I’m tired.” I’d spent the break between shows packing and worrying about CWB’s end-of-year fundraising campaign. We were all quiet in the van, taking in our last views of Myitkyina, Myanmar.

Our show format includes a steady parade of volunteers joining us onstage. Anytime a child volunteer comes up, the audience gets more excited. I can feel a little bit of tension, feel the audience wonder, “Will these people make fun of the child?” That’s a fair concern. It’s our job to make sure the child feels supported and validated. It’s our job to make them the star of the show. We have to be worthy of their trust. We invite a chorus of kids onstage for the finale of each show in Myanmar. Together, we say and act out the “Safety Signs.” It’s the moment where the clowns turn the show over to the kids and the kids become the experts.

In our final audience in Myanmar, there’s a young boy with a disability that impacts his motor skills and speech. Throughout the show, he breaks away from the audience and into the circle, momentarily joining us onstage. Sometimes an adult leads him offstage, and sometimes he leaves on his own. There are whole scenes in which he provides the fourth counterpoint to our action. As I approach a section of the audience in search of my final volunteer, the crowd parts to reveal the little boy. He claps his hands and steps forward, but his caregiver holds him back. She’s protective: The earlier volunteers did challenging acts, like holding spinning plates, climbing on shoulders and making foam balls disappear. I make eye contact with her and she looks a little nervous. I feel a little nervous too. I can tell she doesn’t want to set him up for failure. “What if he can’t do it,” we both think.

I kneel down toward his eye level and hold out my hand for a high-five. The whole section of audience is watching the two of us. He eagerly taps my hands, giggling and grinning. We do it again, and the audience applauds.

I know that Leah, Andres, Hla Mo, and a whole crew of volunteers are carrying the show for the rest of the audience, but for me, it’s just about this kid. The section of audience where he had been standing is watching and laughing, acting out the “Safety Signs” along with us. When we take a bow with the rest of the volunteers, that little boy receives a huge cheer.

The UNHCR estimates there are 68.5 million forcibly displaced people worldwide: 40 million internally displaced people (IDP); 25.4 million refugees; and 3.1 million asylum seekers. There are also an estimated 10 million stateless people, or people who are denied nationality. In these terms, “displacement” means someone who is forcibly moved or removed due to armed conflict, violence, human rights violations or natural/human-made disasters. Displacement mobilizes CWB into action because our tours respond to people experiencing crisis. When a project partner asks us to come share laughter, we do our best to oblige. But as global politics shift and change, late-20th century and early-21st century displacement has started to take on a distinct quality: protraction.

Is displacement changing?

Thanks to our news cycle in the United States, it’s easy to picture acute crises like earthquakes or bombings. It’s more difficult to conceptualize protracted displacement caused by intersecting problems like lack of water resources due to agricultural mismanagement and climate change, or civil war resulting from the legacy of colonialism. The UNHCR defines protracted displacement as displacement for five years or more, yet from 1974–2014 fewer than one refugee crisis in 40 was resolved within three years. In fact, more than 80 percent of all refugee crises lasted for 10 years or more.

How does CWB respond to protracted displacement?

CWB frequently interacts with communities experiencing protracted displacement, including our 2018 tours to Colombia (Coastal Tour and The Department of Cauca), Lebanon and Myanmar. The media image of refugee camps does not reflect reality for many people experiencing protracted displacement. It’s an increasingly urban and dispersed phenomenon, with (in 2015) at least 59 percent of all refugees living in urban settings. The increasing frequency and length of protracted displacement results in migrant and IDP situations that challenge preconceived ideas of what a crisis looks like. For example, many refugee camps are essentially settled, with established systems of support both formal and informal. But does that mean people no longer live in crisis? What kind of role does laughter and levity play in situations that feel intractable instead of sudden?

We’ve found that, along with planned performances, CWB tours help carve out space for communities to come together over joy. Communities constantly build their own resilience, but play and silliness help reinforce an opportunity to forge connections within protracted displacement.