The fall semester of my senior year of college was spent on a three-month wilderness course. This was done in the southwestern United States. Over 90-plus days we slept outside, carrying all our supplies. The course was split into four sections, and, as an example of the break from normal amenities, only between sections was there a chance for a shower.

After that course, my spring semester was spent in Indonesia, in a part considered third world. Despite being in the tropics, there was no air conditioning. A shower meant pouring a hand bucket of cold water over myself.

I could go on about the comforts given up during this year, one which I consider among my fondest. And I’ll admit there was an adjustment upon returning to standard American living afterward.

Truth is, as great as that year was, and as distinct as it was from my usual American-style living, I can’t imagine what the people described in the article experience. As much as I enjoyed my time, I knew the conveniences I’d sacrificed were only temporarily absent. On top of that, the health risks these people have no choice but to accept are above and beyond what I physically risked.

Worst, I think, is that these people probably have little reason for hope.

It’s all so unfathomable to me—their circumstances, the slow rate of improvements, the amazing ways people endure under immense hardship.