KIDS GOING TO SCHOOL IN SYRIA RISK DEATH
The war has taken its toll on children and many are now fighting to reclaim their future
IN my six years as a full-time humanitarian worker, I have encountered many incidents that don’t fade from my mind. One was during a trip to Syria in the summer of 2018.
It was scorching hot that day as our driver drove us across the town of Jarablus in the suburbs of northern Aleppo on the first day of Ramadan. Earlier on, we had spent more than six hours preparing 1,000 packs of iftar food for new refugees who had just arrived in the area.
Though the kitchen had just been set up, everything was managed smoothly by our experienced chef and workers. The workers had previously worked for us in their hometown of Eastern Ghoutah.
Although only 10km from central Damascus, the town has been besieged for more than five years.
Despite the bombardments, our organisation stood by the townsfolk, providing food, shelter and also winter aid at any possible opportunity.
More than 400,000 people were trapped in an area just over 100 square kilometres and have survived chemical attacks that killed thousands of people. The trauma they experienced was immense.
But what inspires me is that even with all the pain they have to endure, they try their best to adapt and continue life by serving others facing the same fate. From the smile on their faces, no one would have guessed the trauma they had gone through.
As we travelled along the small busy town, our driver drove out into the countryside. We passed many fields and olive farms. And we also had the sad view of tents in between olive trees. Ruined buildings and houses were everywhere.
Our van stopped in front of a house. It had a large metal gate — something that’s quite common in Syria. Our guide, Abu Muhammad, told us we will be visiting a family living here. We had brought rice and chicken from our kitchen that will be their iftar for that day.
As he knew the people in the area, he walked ahead of us and gave salam before entering. It was past noon and the heat was becoming quite unbearable as we waited for his signal to go in.
When we stepped into the house, a girl was sitting in a wheelchair. She is Zainab, aged 10. Her mother must have pushed her right in front of the metal gate because she looked restless and scared. Abu Muhammad tried to calm her down and talked to her.
“Don’t be scared, Zainab. These ladies came from far to see you. You shouldn’t be crying, my girl. Look! They brought you rice for your iftar. You are fasting today, right?” he asked. She gave him a slight nod.
I asked Abu Muhammad the reason for her fear. He informed us that the noise from our van was overwhelming for her. It reminded her of the aircraft that dropped a barrel bomb near her.
“Zainab was on her way to school with her cousin when the incident occurred,” Abu Muhammad told us.
Her cousin died in front of her and Zainab lost both legs. It’s no surprise that as soon as she hears a vehicle, Zainab will start crying. She, like many others who go through the same experience, are traumatised for life.
I brought the warm rice to her. “Don’t be scared. I am a friend. We are here to bring you this delicious food,” I said, trying my best to calm her with my Syrian Arabic dialect.
My past experience has helped me to converse with them better.
She timidly lifted her head up to look at me. Her mother, who is beside her, helped eased her anxiety too. She still looked afraid but had stopped crying.
I laid the packed rice on her lap and she finally gave us a faint smile. It made our day. All the exhaustion we faced seemed to fade away instantly.
Zainab, like many children of this war-torn country, has faced more than we can ever imagine.
The war in Syria has been taking its toll on children for nine years, their lives forever marked by the conflict.
Hundreds of thousands of children are now fighting to reclaim their future.
In Syria, children are risking death to go to school. And those injured have a less chance to continue their education. Schools should not be a death trap. It should be a place where children are protected and able to learn, grow and develop their skills.
That’s why although I’m quite relieved that our organisation strives to provide education to children, especially orphans of the war-torn country, until today, I can still remember meeting Zainab and feel sad for what she had gone through.