Refugee Camps Along the Syrian Border

I went to Jordan for another refugee camp visit. I am working with Lifting Hands International again who is teaming up with an incredible local organisation in Jordan, Helping Hand for Relief and Development, who are doing amazing work (Muslims helping Muslims and Americans joining in, but that is beside the point. Or maybe that is precisely the point?). We came to learn more about them, to see their work and visit refugee camps where we will be sending aid.

Jordan is home to over 2 million refugees! There are official and unofficial camps and communities of them all over. The work we saw being done today to help these people was inspiring, but once again I walk away feeling discouraged and a bit hopeless. I've learned you need to sort of adopt, among other things, a bit of tunnel vision working in this environment. You cannot solve all the problems you see in these places. They are vast and without end. So if you don't narrow down your focus considerably, it simply leads to overwhelming despair.

We visited over 5 small refugee settlements all along the Syrian border to deliver tiny mobile homes to needy, anxiously awaiting families. We were within 10 kms of Syria most of the day, and at one point we were less than 2 kms away and we could see towns across the border. These vistas only seem to taunt those suffering here who were forced out of that land. The tiny homes delivered today are cramped, two-room units that I don't think most of us would consider functional for more than a couple of days, but they are a massive improvement over what they have been working out of the last 3 plus years! They are grateful to receive them and to "move in" to their new homes, but I also often saw some humiliation in their posture and utter despair in their eyes with little or no joy to live for knowing that this tiny unit is very possibly as good as it's going to get for a very long time to come.

Day one was a day of contrasts, feeling so happy to see the wonderful work of the Jordanians making a real difference in helping these refugees, but also feeling so deeply sad for them. Their lives will never ever be the same no matter how much relief is extended to them. It will take generations to repair and rebuild what was lost.

Our last delivery was to deliver a small, mobile school room to a refugee community whose children haven't attended school of any kind in at least three years! This is a sad, but harsh reality of refugee life. Many have been deprived of education for five years or longer. The effects of war and ensuing refugee life are devastatingly far reaching. So many problems to solve in its wake. The excitement this schoolhouse and the volunteer teachers who will fill it brought to this tiny community today was a sight to behold. Once settled on its foundation, the children all crowded around the door bursting to get in. Seeing the children all settled behind their desks for the first time in over three years is something I will never forget.

Our last stop was to a small refugee camp just about touching Syria. Some of these people haven't come very far, but the distance between their former lives and the present is enormous.

The next day was hard. Really hard.

Struggling to find the words to adequately express the things we saw and what we experienced. I am not new to this. I have been to refugee camps before, but this day completely consumed my senses and emotions. We visited a few different camps, distributing food. With each camp visit I found myself becoming unhinged, losing the capacity to function. Cracked bare feet wandering around camps, newborn infants (one just four days old), unsanitary water making people sick, extreme mental illness, not knowing where tomorrow's food will come from, dirty and often foul personal hygiene, major health crises and no way to get care . . . and these are just the tragedies of the moment. Never mind the tragedies of war, torture and death that brought them here. Little by little my camera hung down by my side, unable to engage and I was simply just trying to cope. Breathing in fumes from open fires and becoming light-headed from burning plastic my head began to spin, and at one point I felt utterly destroyed.

The plight of the refugee rages on. The history books are being written on how our generation responded, and there are many chapters yet to be recorded.

Back at the HHRD office, and the men at prayer

On our last day we took the afternoon off and went to the city of Salt.  It was an interesting, historical city with a small central market.  We were the only non-Jordanians around, which was an interesting feeling. 

View of Amman from the Citadel, my favourite place in Amman.  Being here at sunset listening to the call to prayer echo off the cityscape is one of my favourite experiences.  It is just beautiful.  I feel so lucky for the life I lead and grateful for these moments.