Isabel dos Santos, the daughter of Angolan President José Eduardo dos Santos and the richest woman in Africa, owes her wealth to the oil industry. Delfina Fernandes, a woman living in abject poverty in the village of Kibanga, uses gasoline as an anesthetic to dull the sheering pain of her rotting teeth.

With a new peace process underway between the Colombian government and leaders of the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) in Cuba, the spotlight is back on this long-troubled South American country. But decades of civil conflict have overshadowed an incredible fact: Colombia is among the four most biologically diverse countries on Earth.

Given that there have been three major peace processes in Sudan’s troubled western province of Darfur, the current escalation of violence indicates that perhaps something about existing approaches is failing to hit the mark. Identifying what is missing is vital – not just for Darfur, but for other areas with similar challenges of state fragility, poverty, and competition over natural resources.

If you’re a government pondering the development of newly discovered natural resources, how do you avoid the so-called “resource curse” – the tendency of high value extractive resources, like oil, gas, or minerals, to, instead of prosperity, bring corruption, entrenched poverty, and even violence?

Earlier this month, the United Nations released a final report on the Millennium Development Goals (MDGs), the framework that has guided global development efforts for the last 15 years. The document examines each of the eight MDGs and finds that “despite many successes, the poorest and most vulnerable people are being left behind.” As one of the first global poverty reduction movements nears its end, the report calls for better data collection practices to create a post-2015 development agenda that can overcome the MDG’s shortcomings.

In my tiny, half-an-island country of Timor-Leste, cemeteries smell of jasmine and come to life on All Saints’ Day. Families have picnics and kids roam wild over the tombstones. Here, stepping on somebody else’s family tombstones is not seen as an offense but as the norm; after all, since there isn’t enough land to hold so many graves, not stepping on one is impossible unless you have mastered levitation.

Fifteen years ago last month, I was brought to America through the U.S. Refugee Resettlement Program after having lived in refugee camps in Ethiopia and Kenya for more than a decade. As I reflect on my experience, it is my hope that it will inspire others and help inform dialogue on forced migration so that refugees are perceived not just as victims, but models of resilience.