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*All the names in this article have been changed to protect the individual’s identity and updates to the article made for clarity.

RABAT, Morocco — Gabriella was 12 when she fled war and ethnic violence in the Democratic Republic of Congo. On the second day of our Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow workshop in the central Rabat, she quietly and politely asked whether she could draw the story of her sister, instead of her own.... what she drew will stay with me forever. The now 14 year old had drawn a carefully crafted image. Her sister was in love with her boyfriend. She discovered that she was pregnant and her family forced her to leave the home. It is my understanding that she then committed suicide.

But we do not know for sure, we could not bring ourselves to ask.

After Gabriella left, I went and stood on the balcony to stare at the sea, for what seemed like forever. It was a shocking introduction the reality that migrants are facing in Morocco. It was something that, if I am a honest with myself, I was not totally prepared for.

A young migrant girl from the Democratic Republic of Congo takes part

in a "Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow" workshop in Rabat, Morocco.

Photo taken by Elizabeth Pennington

The contrast to Serbia was obvious and raw. There, stories and drawings alike were graphic, some even traumatic. In Morocco, individual's drawings made me realise the challenges within the continent as a whole and made me questions things I really did not want to confront about humanity. In the evening, we'd talk and have quiet moments of reflection. Trying to make sense of it all, even though we knew we couldn't.

The reality that I did not want to confront, was that until the wars, political unrest, ethnic violence stop - refugees and migrants will continue to come, they will continue to push, to dream and who are we to tell them they can't?

We also met Maria, a 38 year old woman. Her "Yesterday" depicted the brutal war in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Her husband had been shot and killed by militia as she and her children fled by boat. She and her children travelled through the desert in both Niger and Algeria, witnessing yet more death, more horror. Now, Maria has been living in Morocco for 10 years. As I blinked away tears, she shrugged and simply said "C'est mon histoire" (It's my story). She still dreams of crossing the Mediterranean and going to Spain. We asked whether she wanted to risk the journey - after all, thousands of migrants have lost their lives on the crossing in this year alone. Her reply: "I walked through the desert."

"Yesterday" by a 38 year old women from the Democratic Republic of Congo. Currently iving in mirant shelter in 

Rabat, Morocco. Photo taken by Elizabeth Pennington

"It is a real-world continent" a 19 year old American and aspiring foreign news correspondent told me over a coffee at Madrid airport on my return journey home. The daughter of the country music singer, she had been living in Rabat for four months, studying Human Rights and Arabic. As I told her about the work I had done in the centres and the, at times, personal challenges that I overcome, it became clear to me that this was what I was supposed to be doing. I remember saying to her in an exhausted daze that: "If we weren't there, then who would be?"

Now, it's been just over three weeks since I returned home, the reality of what I have heard since hits at unexpected moments - in the supermarket, eating breakfast, speaking with family who want to hear of my time doing "exciting work." Although to me, it's more of a compulsion, a desire to listen and to witness. To me, it is meeting people who have given up everything, some who have lost everything and everyone that they know. Yet, they are prepared to lose everything, all over again, to make a new life for themselves, and their families, and that, more than anything, is inspiring.