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Food, Water, Sanitation, and Housing in Refugee Camps

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Food, Water, Sanitation, and Housing in Refugee Camps

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In a refugee camp, getting more children in school and more schools for children | Mauritania | UNICEF

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In a refugee camp, getting more children in school and more schools for children | Mauritania | UNICEF

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UNICEF | Children's Rights & Emergency Relief Organization

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In a refugee camp, getting more children in school and more schools for children
By Anthea Moore and Brahim Ould Isselmou
As the crisis in Mali carries on, refugee children in Mauritania need space to learn.

MBERA CAMP, Mauritania, 20 May 2013 - Although he is only 15, Malal Guisse has already had a hard journey. When crisis arose last year in his native Mali, he moved from his village of Léré, in Timbuktu Region, to the region of Segou in the south, where he lived with his aunt in Niono. He then moved across the border to the Mbera refugee camp in Mauritania.

In Mbera, Malal lives with his grandmother, Fatimata, who raised him after he lost his parents. Fatimata is in her 70s, weakened by age and illness. Her grandson is a source of hope in her life.

"He goes to school, and that fills me with joy!" she says.

Education and opportunity

Mauritania is the largest recipient of refugees fleeing the crisis in Mali. There are around 74,000 Malian refugees in Mbera camp, 58 per cent of them children under 18. With continued insecurity as well as a food crisis in northern Mali, many have been in Mbera for over a year.

"I am happy to go to school, because we have shoes and exercise books. We don't need to buy pens. We don't buy anything - we just come!" Malal says. "School has opened my mind with lessons so I can work."

UNICEF and partners are providing formal schooling in the Malian curriculum for 6,294 primary school students and 249 secondary school students. Girls make up 49 per cent of primary school students, but only 22 per cent of secondary school students. However, many more girls than boys are attending the youth literacy programmes targeting 13- to 17-year-olds - 527 youths, 71 per cent of them girls, are taking advantage of the chance to 'catch up' by learning to read and write. In addition, preschool children are welcome in child-friendly spaces, where they benefit from recreational activities and psychosocial support.

Big achievements, big gaps

Moulaye Dahmane, a French teacher in the school, says, "UNICEF has been very helpful for children by providing all the school furniture, the guides and manuals for the teachers."

Nonetheless, underfunding means that demand for educational resources continues to outstrip supply.

"So far, we have set up six schools which cater for only 7,000 children out of around 30,000 school-age children in the refugee camp," says UNICEF Education Officer Taleb Bouya. "We need to do much more to offer education to 23,000 children through school creation, equipment, teacher recruitment and training."

With additional funding, UNICEF plans to expand the number of schools, provide tables and benches and build semi-permanent school structures.

"Our main concern is shelter," Malal's teacher Mohamed El Hadi says. "We have temporary school shelters that cannot withstand the wind and the bad weather. We already have overcrowded classes with 70 to 80 pupils, and because of the lack of shelter we have to put classes together. It becomes impossible to work in those conditions."

In partnership with Mauritania's Ministry of Education, UNHCR, Intersos, Lutheran World Federation, local NGO ESD and the Mauritanian Red Crescent, UNICEF will expand its interventions to cover more children and add job training for youth who complete the literacy programme.

"Education is what remains after everything is gone," says Hama Ould Baba, the school director. "If you lose everything, knowledge remains. The future of our community lies in education."

Fatimata, too, knows that the key to her grandson's future - and her own - lies in education. So far he has done well in school.

"If he succeeds at school, he will understand everything. If he knows nothing - I am old, I can't do anything," she says. "When he completes school, he will be able to work and take care of me."

UNICEF Photography: Makeshift classrooms

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focus area 2: basic education and gender equality

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In a refugee camp, getting more children in school and more schools for children

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MBERA CAMP, Mauritania, 20 May 2013 - Although he is only 15, Malal Guisse has already had a hard journey. When crisis arose last year in his native Mali, he moved from his village of Léré, in Timbuktu Region, to the region of Segou in the south, where he lived with his aunt in Niono.

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Myanmar refugee camps: This is what daily life looks like | CARE

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Myanmar refugee camps: This is what daily life looks like | CARE

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This is what daily life looks like in Balukhali camp, Bangladesh. Makeshift shelters made from plastic sheets and bamboo - not enough to protect people from the scorching heat nor the daily rains. Rudimentary toilets and washing facilities - women often wait until nightfall to relieve themselves in the open fields. There is a real threat of a disease outbreak.
Balukhali camp hosts the majority of over half a million people who have fled from Myanmar to Bangladesh. Many have suffered horrific trauma as they fled from the violence that forced them from their villages in search of safety.

These three refugee siblings (above), like so many refugee children, have witnessed scenes no child should ever have to endure. Armed men entered their home in Myanmar, raped their mother, then killed both parents. After the armed men left, their uncle found them and brought them with him to Bangladesh. They are still deeply traumatised and hardly speak to anyone. The youngest (in the middle), too young to really comprehend what has happened, still asks about her mother.

Begum (above; not her real name) says it's easy to identify the worst three days of her life. They are her last three days spent in Myanmar. She is one of countless refugees from Myanmar who have suffered or witnessed rape or were at risk of other forms of gender-based violence before fleeing to Bangladesh. Find her full story here on the New York Times website.

This five-year-old boy (above) received bullet wounds in his hips when armed men attacked his village in Myanmar. His father Hafizulla (above) immediately carried him on his shoulders and took a boat to Bangladesh to get medical care at a hospital. He still cannot walk properly and stays in the tent most of the time. The rest of the family is still back in Bangladesh and could not come with him. He misses them dearly.

Almost 150,000 refugee children are malnourished. Toyoba's one-year-old son (pictured above) is one of them. CARE International is working at Balukhali and other refugee camps to help identify and treat cases of severe acute malnutrition in children under five. So far, more than 13,000 children have been screened in the camps, out of which more than 11,000 will be treated with nutritional supplements over the next six months.

It's this young girl's second time in the malnutrition centre (above). She, her mother and her four sisters fled to Bangladesh from Myanmar a few weeks ago after their house was burned down. She has been suffering from diarrhoea and requires treatment to not lose any more weight.

Despite these hardships, refugees like Abdulhakim (above) are doing what they can to try and cope in their new situation. Abdulhakim fled from Myanmar with his two-year-old son and wife - the only two family members he has left. The rest of his family died when armed men burned down their house. He is struggling to provide for his family but earns some occasional money by repairing umbrellas.

"Still, my own country is better and we would like to return one day," he says, despite losing almost everything in the place he calls home.

Tayab (above) sold his mother's earrings to open a shop in Balukhali camp. He fled to Bangladesh with his mother and siblings as their village was burned down. As he is too afraid of violence back in Myanmar, he wants to stay in Bangladesh and rebuild their lives. He now makes the equivalent of about 8 US dollars per day selling sweets and snacks at his small shop.

Kairul Islam (above) is from Bangladesh and has lived around Balukhali for many years. He is pictured in front of his food stall in Balukhali camp where he mostly sells fried food to local people. When the refugees began arriving, he gave half his land to people who had been struggling to find space in the crowded camp.

"I feel good about them coming to Bangladesh and it is our obligation to help our brothers and sisters as fellow Muslims," he says.

Mohammed (above) is one of about 100-150 camp commanders in Balukhali camp. Mohammed is a refugee himself. He fled from Myanmar after his uncle was killed in front of his eyes and his village was burnt. Although aged only 20, he has taken on the responsibility for looking after 100 families, making sure they receive support. But there is not enough aid available for all, so he often has to divide food rations between the families.

Abdulmannan (above) is another of the camp commanders in Balukhali camp. He says that the biggest problem in the camp is the lack of toilets. Most people are forced to go to the open fields to relieve themselves - something that is particularly difficult for women and girls, who often wait until nightfall, causing discomfort and potential health concerns, and putting them at greater risk of gender-based violence.
But although the situation in the camps is extremely challenging, Abdulmannan says he is grateful for all the support they are getting.
CARE is on the ground in Balukhali and other refugee camps in Cox's Bazar district, where most refugees have sought shelter. Our teams are distributing food, household essentials, and shelter materials. We are creating women and adolescent-friendly spaces and providing counselling and a referral service for survivors of gender-based violence. We are supporting local partners to deliver community-based assessment and treatment of acute malnutrition. We are assisting with refugee camp management and the coordination of emergency responses in the refugee camps.
Please donate now to help provide food, shelter, clean water and other support to refugee families from Myanmar. Photos and interviews by Jennifer Bose, CARE Emergency Communications Officer

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Myanmar refugee camps: This is what daily life looks like

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This is what daily life looks like in Balukhali camp, Bangladesh. Makeshift shelters made from plastic sheets and bamboo - not enough to protect people from the scorching heat nor the daily rains. Rudimentary toilets and washing facilities - women often wait until nightfall to relieve themselves in the open fields.

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Schools in refugee camps

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Refugee relief is typically thought about in the acute stages of a crisis, when water, sanitation, housing, security and disease threaten lives. Because assistance in such circumstances focuses on keeping people alive, relief is often described as an apolitical humanitarian project. But refugees by their very nature are the products of a struggle over power and authority – that is, a product of politics. Nowhere is this more evident in relief programmes than in the provision of schools. Basic schooling has emerged as a humanitarian 'right', just like water, sanitation, food, security and shelter. Yet education programmes for refugee children have longer-term political significance, as well as immediate humanitarian consequences. Education pushes humanitarian action beyond a medicalised endeavour to 'save lives' to a project that also shapes futures.
Unimagined past, unimaginable future
Political theorist Benedict Anderson famously called the modern nation an 'imagined community'. By this he meant that, while the members of even the smallest nation will never know, meet or hear about their fellow-members, 'yet in the minds of each lives the image of their communion'. This communion takes place in large part because vast numbers of people are exposed to common schooling. In modern societies, education's core function is the creation of citizens able to imagine themselves as having both a past, and a plausible future as part of a wider national community.

Refugees do not have a common past or a future; there is only a 'present' as a refugee in a camp full of people with the same problem of homelessness. One consequence of this is that, in refugee camps around the world, education programmes are often confronted with questions largely resolved in peaceful settings. What language should be used? Who is qualified to teach? What is a respectful relationship between teacher and student? Are rote learning or group-centred activities best? These are big questions, often going to the root of seemingly intractable political problems. Whose history, language, music or literature is taught in primary school – Israeli or Palestinian; Catholic or Protestant; Hindu, Sikh or Muslim; mujahedin or Royalist; Hutu or Tutsi – has much to do with expressions of power.

Faced with these difficult questions, humanitarian relief agencies often reduce schooling for refugees to a logistic problem. The result is that education packages for refugee camps, like food reserves, are 'borrowed' from a stockpile in the host country or elsewhere, and little attention is paid to broader questions to do with the kind of future children will have. In refugee camps, the core function of schools – the creation of citizens – is often ignored. It is perhaps not surprising that, as a result, refugee camps often have confusing mixes of curriculum, which leads to inconsistencies in educational policies. Such inconsistencies stem from the political compromises that both internal and external actors must make in refugee situations. Some examples are:

In Indochinese refugee camps in Thailand in the 1980s and 1990s, instruction was in a general Thai curriculum, even though the government's policy was that no refugees would stay in Thailand. Chinese, English and French curricula were also offered at different times and places. Despite explicit policies for repatriation, few refugees in fact ever went home, and hundreds of thousands resettled abroad, or stayed in Thailand illegally.

Mozambican camps in Malawi in the 1980s offered a Malawian curriculum in English to facilitate integration. However, in the 1990s repatriation came to be seen as more important, and the Malawian curriculum was replaced with a Portuguese Mozambican one.

Camps for Burundians in Tanzania in the 1970s and 1980s focused on a Tanzanian Swahili curriculum, and many Burundians remain in Tanzania today. However, refugees from Burundi in the late 1990s were educated by the international community in a mix of French and Kirundi, under an official 'repatriation only' policy. Meanwhile, refugees established their own schools, with teaching in Swahili and English.

In camps for Afghan refugees in the 1980s, the international donor community funded conservative Islamist political parties to establish schools which promoted political ideologies, including an insistence that females be excluded from schooling. In the meantime, the UN and Western NGOs developed their own programmes promoting gender equity.

Perhaps most notoriously, schools in Palestinian refugee camps in Jordan, Lebanon, the West Bank and Gaza promote a distinctly Palestinian identity. Palestinian children have been taught that they are both dispossessed, and foreigners in the Arab lands to which they fled. As a consequence, today's Palestinian curriculum, which teaches that Jewish people unjustly seized Palestinian land, is a focus for the on-going Israeli–Palestinian conflict.

The role of schools in refugee populations
In administering schools, humanitarian organisations make decisions which have consequences for how power is distributed. Teachers are identified and promoted, a language of instruction is chosen and specific norms of deference and respect are enforced. The question that educators in refugee camps should ask is: what will such policies mean for a refugee population in one, five, ten or 20 years? This is a question that technicians focused on food rations, curative medical care or water systems can ignore, and still do a good job by keeping daily mortality rates under control. The questions that educators must ask, by contrast, are inherently political. Educational administrators in refugee camps ignore such political questions at their peril. This is because, in their decision-making in seemingly technical areas to do with curriculum, pedagogy and school administration, they plant the seeds of a future. This future may see repatriation, resettlement, the end of an old identity, or the beginning of a new one. But the identity cultivated may also be the basis for continued armed struggle. Education choices may also reveal something about the priorities of donors. In Afghan refugee camps in the late 1980s, for example, the US provided textbooks as part of what became known as the 'Cross-border Humanitarian Program'. By the time educational support was wound down in 1994, over $50 million had been spent by the US and UNICEF. The goal of the programme was to give political legitimacy to the mujahedin commanders fighting the Soviet-led Afghan armed forces. The textbooks were also intended to promote powerful political messages. These are two quotes from a textbook prepared for the programme:

1. The Mujahedin laid 260 anti-tank mines for Russian tanks. Out of that 180 mines exploded. Now find out how many mines are remaining.

2. 15 Mujahedin attacked 100 Communists from one side. 17 Mujahedin attacked from the other side. Out of 100 Communists, 14 were arrested and 72 were killed. Find out: a) how many Mujahedin were involved in the attack and b) how many infidels fled.

This attempt to deliver political statements through the medium of numeracy is an important example of how and why national identity becomes embedded in a curriculum, even a seemingly benign subject like basic mathematics. By funding these militarised anti-communist textbooks, Western donors made a statement that opposition to communism was more important than humanitarian principles. When Thailand insisted that Indochinese refugees must be repatriated, rather than settle in Thailand, while at the same time insisting on a Thai curriculum, the decision made short-term political sense, even though the long-term consequences meant that many refugees in fact did not repatriate. Today in Chad, choices are being made by donors and the Chadian government about the future identity of refugees fleeing Darfur. Decisions are being taken about who will be schooled, and what the curriculum will be about. In northern Uganda, where children are housed in separate villages away from their parents to protect them from kidnapping, new relations are being established. A new 'us' is being created, and a new future imagined.

Kim LeBlanc is a graduate of California State University, Chico's MA programme in Social Science.

Tony Waters is Associate Professor and Chair of the Department of Sociology, California State University, Chico, and author of Bureaucratizing the Good Samaritan (Boulder, CO: Westview, 2001). Emails: kleblanc@csuchico.edu and twaters@csuchico.edu.
References and further reading
Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities (London: Verso, 1991).

Lynellyn Long, Ban Vinai: The Refugee Camp (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993).

Gonzalo Retamol and Ruth Adeo-Richmond (eds), Education as a Humanitarian Response (London: Cassel, 1998).

Francisco O. Ramirez, 'The Nation-State, Citizenship, and Global Change: Institutionalism and Globalization', in International Handbook of Education and Development: Preparing Schools, Students and Nations for the Twenty-First Century (London: Elsevier, 1997), pp. 47–62.

Elizabeth Rubin, 'Prep School', The New Republic, 225(25), 2001, pp. 16–19.

Tony Waters and Kim LeBlanc, 'Refugees and Education: Mass Public Schooling without a Nation-State', Comparative Education Review, 49(2), forthcoming, 2005.

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Schooling in refugee camps - Humanitarian Practice Network

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Refugee relief is typically thought about in the acute stages of a crisis, when water, sanitation, housing, security and disease threaten lives. Because assistance in such circumstances focuses on keeping people alive, relief is often described as an apolitical humanitarian project. But refugees by their very nature are the products of a struggle over power...

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A Day in the Life of Joseph * in Boroli Refugee Camp, Uganda - Save the Children

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A Day in the Life of Joseph * in Boroli Refugee Camp, Uganda - Save the Children

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Joseph *, a 7-year-old South Sudanese refugee, now lives with his mother and two siblings in Boroli Refugee Camp, Uganda. He is one of over 400,000 refugees who have fled South Sudan, seeking refuge from the brutal conflict that has engulfed the world's youngest nation. Over 120,000 of these are currently residing in settlement camps, like Boroli, in neighbouring Uganda. New arrivals continue to cross the border daily, often arriving exhausted, nutritionally weak and in poor health.

Joseph * attends one of Save the Children's child friendly spaces, which provides a safe environment for children to play and learn in the camp. He described his daily routine in the camp to a member of staff from Save the Children.

"It was very bad in South Sudan. We had to run because there was lots of fighting and people were being killed. I was very scared. Here it is a lot better. There is no fighting here. It is cold in the morning when we wake up, colder than it is back in South Sudan. Sometimes I don't want to get out of bed. I have to do my chores before I can go and play with my friends. First I have to dig our land so that our crops will grow. In a few months we will have our own food to eat and sell. Once I have finished digging I go and fetch water so that I can wash myself. The water is heavy but I am strong. Sometimes I practice the alphabet or my drawing outside. I use the straw from our house's roof because I don't have paper or pens. I go to the Child Friendly Space everyday and it's lots of fun. We play games and swing on the swings. I like it here a lot but I want to go back to my old village in South Sudan. I love my old village."

Currently over 350 South Sudanese children attend Save the Children's Child Friendly Space in Boroli Camp, Uganda, where they are able to play, learn and receive the support they need to move on with their lives.This is one of five child friendly spaces run by Save the Children in refugee camps in Adjumani district in Northern Uganda.

It is estimated that, if the current trend continues, as many as 300,000 South Sudanese refugees could be sheltering in Uganda by the end of the year. Over 65% of the new arrivals are children and hundreds are arriving unaccompanied after being separated from their parents or caregivers during the fighting. In response Save the Children is helping to register separated and unaccompanied children and then reunify them with their family members. The child friendly spaces include Early Childhood Care and Development Centres within them, to provide refugee children in Uganda with a safe and nurturing environment in which they can play, learn and receive the support they need to move on with their lives.
* after a name indicates that the name has been changed to protect identity. This must be reflected in all usage.

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A Day in the Life of Joseph * in Boroli Refugee Camp, Uganda

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Joseph *, a 7-year-old South Sudanese refugee, now lives with his mother and two siblings in Boroli Refugee Camp, Uganda. He is one of over 400,000 refugees who have fled South Sudan, seeking refuge from the brutal conflict that has engulfed the world's youngest nation.

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A Day In The Life Of A Syrian Refugee Like You've Never Seen Before | HuffPost

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A Day In The Life Of A Syrian Refugee Like You've Never Seen Before | HuffPost

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Picture this: You are in a boat in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. It's freezing. As you close your eyes in an attempt to get away from the misery surrounding your life, you think of your destroyed home in Damascus. Home, the term seems so foreign. You wonder, will I ever find a safe place in America that I can finally call home?

Screaming, you hear screaming. Too small to fit its 70 passengers and so weak that it succumbs to the merciless waves, your boat has begun to capsize. Before you know it, you are all in the freezing water.

As you cling to your lifejacket, begging it to help you stay afloat, you realize that half of you don't have one because they had to be bought in Libya and the smuggler promised that the boat would be safe. He promised.

As you struggle to locate your family members, you notice that people are now clinging to dead bodies. You see your wife yet as you reach out to grab her desperate shivering hand, you are both separated by a wave.

With each wave you see your children disappear. You are now screaming. Several hours pass and you are finally rescued. Your wife and children were never located, they remain lost somewhere between life and death. You are brought into Greece only to hear that Syrian refugees are now a demographic threat to the United States.

Warsan Shire, a Somali-British poet writes, "You have to understand, no one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land." According to the UN Refugee Agency, it is estimated that there are over 4.8 million Syrian refugees, each one fleeing the same terror that the world is unjustly accusing them of.

I can talk about how you are more than seven times as likely to be killed by the KKK than by a terrorist that happens to be Muslim, or how there have been no fatal terror attacks in the U.S. by immigrants from the seven Muslim countries that Donald Trump has hatefully banned, or how it has been factually proven that Muslims are not terrorists, but this isn't about that.

This is about showing you a glimpse into the life of a Syrian refugee so that you can better understand why banning these people from escaping the terrors that are killing them is a crime against humanity in every shape and form.

Now, I would like you to meet Ahmad. This is his story:

This short film was made by the talented Ahmad Asaad. His film has won multiple international awards for both it's incredible cinematography and the power in the message this documentary conveys. You can see more of Asaad's work here.

If there is one thing I ask of you, it is this: The next time you hear or see the words "Syrian refugee", think of the family you saw in this film. The next time you hear or see these words, let your heart be the means through which you react.

At the end of the day, we will always be best defined by what we are willing to do for those that can do nothing for us. The Syrian refugees need you now more than ever. Be the hero they so desperately need.

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A Day In The Life Of A Syrian Refugee Like You've Never Seen Before

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Picture this: You are in a boat in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. It's freezing. As you close your eyes in an attempt to get away from the misery surrounding your life, you think of your destroyed home in Damascus. Home, the term seems so foreign.

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True stories: a day in the life of a refugee camp – British Red Cross – Medium

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True stories: a day in the life of a refugee camp – British Red Cross – Medium

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In a windy field in northern Greece you'll find a camp called Nea Kavala. Around 2,000 people call this camp home, including Syrians, Iraqis, Palestinians and Lebanese. Many of them have been living in these tents for more than eight months.

Around 25 people from the camp volunteer with the Red Cross, helping to identify health and hygiene issues that could affect their community.
Six of the volunteers took a disposable camera out to document their lives. This is what they saw:
"You would have to climb a mountain to see how big the whole camp is," said Issa Alkehdar, who took this picture on his disposable camera.

As winter approaches, the Red Cross is increasingly concerned about conditions in camps. We are working with other humanitarian organisations to improve shelter in the camp, and to provide winter clothing and stoves for people like Issa.

People fleeing war and violence have not only left their homes behind, but also - for the time being - their professions. Red Cross volunteer Rawan photographed this barber, who now lives in the camp, using his old skills in a very different setting.

People who have registered for asylum in Greece are allowed to work. But it's very difficult to find a job: unemployment levels are high across Greece following the economic crisis.

"They're losing their young lives. They should be at school, living somewhere safe," said Saleh Barakat, who took this photo. Many children live in the Nea Kavala camp.

Saleh volunteers for the Red Cross to promote good hygiene alongside members of Red Noses International. They dress up as clowns and visit the camp to bring a little fun and light relief to families, spreading the word about waste management and health care with their shows.

"I was just wandering by with my camera and this little girl poked her head around the corner of the tent to say 'hi'," said Saleh. The Red Cross is providing emotional and psychological support to children and their parents in the camp, many of whom have experienced trauma.

Waste management is a critical issue in refugee camps. Rubbish can attract flies which bring disease, rats and mice. In turn, these attract snakes.

The Red Cross works with volunteers in the Nea Kavala to encourage children and adults to keep the camp clear of rubbish. We provide equipment for rubbish collection.

A little girl carries a heavy bucket of water from the taps to her tent. She has to stop every few metres to take a break. This picture was captured on a disposable camera by Issa Alkehdar, a volunteer with the Red Cross's hygiene promotion team.

The Red Cross is working with camp authorities to ensure everyone can get safe water for drinking, washing and bathing. Teams are installing and maintaining water points in the camp.

War, conflict and the journey through numerous countries to reach Europe have separated families and loved ones. There are a number of elderly people living at Nea Kavala who have made the strenuous journey.

"This woman is about 70 years old, and she lives in the camp by herself," explained Khadija Toghaji, who took this picture. Khadija is one of a group of volunteers who are helping the Red Cross keep the camp clean and hygienic.

The Red Cross is advocating for alternative housing solutions so that people can move out of the camp. Conditions are poor and no one knows how long people will have to live like this.

Please support out work by donating to our Europe Refugee Crisis Appeal.

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True stories: a day in the life of a refugee camp - British Red Cross - Medium

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In a windy field in northern Greece you'll find a camp called Nea Kavala. Around 2,000 people call this camp home, including Syrians, Iraqis, Palestinians and Lebanese. Many of them have been living in these tents for more than eight months.

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Life as a refugee: Spend the day with Nour | Mercy Corps

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Life as a refugee: Spend the day with Nour | Mercy Corps

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Daily life as a refugee

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"When we left Damascus, my father told us we would only be gone for a month. But after we were here for 6 months, I knew we were not going to be going home soon. I was devastated. I thought I had lost my life, my future. I just wanted to die."

Thirteen-year-old Nour has been living in Jordan's Zaatari refugee camp for the last year, along with her parents, four siblings, grandmother and cousins. The family fled Syria when bombs started falling in their neighborhood; their house was destroyed just days after they left.

I spent a Friday last week with Nour and her family to see how a typical day in a camp is for a young refugee. It was the weekend in Jordan, so Nour, an aspiring nurse, was not in her classes at the Zaatari school. But her school days are similar - living as a refugee in a tent takes a lot more work than her comfortable life in Damascus, and her many chores make it a challenge to keep up with the top scores she earns in her studies.
Scroll through the photos above to see how Nour spends her day.
What I learned is that it is a very hard life, but also one with occasional joys and moments of tenderness. I also learned that Nour is a very special girl, as are so many of the Syrian children who are struggling to maintain hope in the face of this terrible crisis.
Learn more about our response to the Syria crisis and how you can help ▸

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Life as a refugee: Spend the day with Nour

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From dawn to dusk, every hour with Nour, 13, and her family in Zaatari refugee camp shows the hardships millions of Syrians endure every day, three years since the war began - and the occasional joys they hang on to far from home.