I am standing on a rise in Iraq, overlooking line upon line of domed blue and white tents connected by a maze of narrow rocky roads and a spider’s web of electrical cables hanging symmetrically and swinging rhythmically from metal poles.
Outside some of the tents small satellite dishes point hopefully to the sky, some sitting atop 44 gallon drums of kerosene – a family’s fuel for cooking and heating.

Water connection points dot the camp and communal bathroom facilities rise above the tents marking out the symmetry and allegiance to international standards of camp design for Internally Displaced Persons. A water tower the size of a small apartment block interrupts the view of a distant mountain.