‘I FEEL COMPELLED TO HELP’
Keeley Hawes visits a refugee camp
She’s an ambassador for the international children’s charity Unicef, and actor Keeley Hawes has seen some traumatic sights. But nothing could have prepared her for her visit to the refugee camps for families fleeing war-torn Syria. Just returned from a harrowing Jordan field trip, she shares what she learnt with Good Housekeeping readers...
The first thing that strikes me is the sheer scale of the Za’atari refugee camp. It stretches for miles. Everywhere I look, children are walking barefoot along the dusty roads, holding hands and playing with makeshift toys. No one knows when the war in Syria will end, so families have to make the most of their lives here. Many have painted flowers on their metal huts, giving a sense of greenery amid the yellow sand to remind them of home and what they have lost. It is an overwhelming experience.
When I was asked to support Unicef UK’S Safe and Warm Campaign for Syrian Children, I knew it was something I had to do. We’ve all seen the heartbreaking pictures in the press. Children who have been dragged, shell-shocked, out of
bombed buildings in Syria and those who have drowned, while desperately trying to make it to Europe. It’s hard not to feel affected by these appalling images, and as a mother I feel compelled to help.
The conflict in Syria has raged on for over five years and destroyed millions of lives. Syrian children have lost everything – family, friends, homes and schools.
I have come to Jordan to visit East Amman, which is now home to thousands of Syrian refugees. The Unicef-supported centre helps integrate Syrian children into their new communities and counsel them through their horrific experiences of the war. There are hundreds of primary aged children, not in school and newly arrived in Jordan.
The centre is bursting with colourful
decorations and paintings of animals and cartoon characters – typical children’s drawings, with ribbons glued on and dangling all over the place. Dozens of children are singing (and shouting!) an Arabic song excitedly when I arrive. At first glance it looks like any typical play centre in the UK. It is only after some time that I can tell many of the children have been deeply affected by the war.
One girl of five who has just arrived is very shy and withdrawn. Her eyes show that she has seen far too much. I dread to think of what horrors those children have witnessed to scar them so much.
I also meet children who have been here for longer. It is wonderful to see the difference – they are confident and full of energy and fun. The centre is run by
DAY TWO: ‘It’s humbling to meet people who are so warm and generous’
trained social workers and children come here to play, make friends and learn. And those that need any extra support receive one-on-one counselling. I can see the impact the centre is having on these traumatised children. Slowly they are coming to terms with their experiences and getting their childhoods back.
Brothers, Nedal, 10, and Jehad, seven, fled the city of Homs three years ago after their home was destroyed and their father was captured to make him fight in the war. Thankfully he was released, and the family escaped the bullets and bombs and made their way to Jordan. Nedal tells me he still thinks about the shooting and is sad that everything he knew is now destroyed. He cried when they left Syria because he had to leave his bicycle behind. It makes me think how children are the same no matter where they live and I wonder what my children would miss most about our home if we had to leave.
Syrian families are being forced to make the most desperate of decisions, and it is hard not to compare these children with my own kids. Ihsan is nine years old, the same age as my younger son. His father is still in Syria and his mother is in Germany – she made the perilous journey to Europe by sea to try to find a better life for her family outside the camp. She’s made it safely to Germany, to apply for residency for her family to join her. Ihsan misses his parents terribly. He introduces me to his oldest brother, Khaled, who at the age of 19 is now the sole guardian of his six younger brothers.
Having three children of my own, I know how difficult it can be to raise a family, even with everything I have in my life to make it easier. Yet here is Khaled with very little money, living in cramped conditions and doing his best for his brothers.
Before the war, Khaled dreamt of becoming an engineer. He studied hard at school and was doing really well. But then the conflict began, his home was destroyed and his school was closed. Now he has to work to put food on the table for his brothers, so his dreams have been put on hold. He is an incredibly brave young man who is putting his family first.
My eldest son is 16 and is thinking about which university to go to and what he wants to do with his life. Teenagers should be full of fun and excitement for their futures, but too many Syrian children are forced to grow up too fast and are stuck living in limbo, desperately waiting for an end to the conflict.
It is very difficult to listen to such heartbreaking stories, especially when people are being so brave. They have a right to be angry and upset, but instead they behave so beautifully and are so dignified. All they want is to be able to go back home to Syria and get their lives back.
I find it humbling to meet people who are incredibly welcoming and generous, even though they have nothing. Everywhere I go, I am greeted with huge, friendly smiles and I’m not sure where they find the strength.
BACK HOME: ‘It makes me realise how lucky we truly are’
In the UK we long for a white Christmas, but for Syrian refugees the cold will be incredibly dangerous as they struggle to stay warm. When the temperatures drop below freezing in the refugee camp there is little protection against the snow and frost. Families huddle together for warmth inside their cold, corrugated-iron huts. Thankfully, Unicef is distributing Winter blankets and clothes to as many children as possible.
Visiting the camps has made me realise more acutely than before how fortunate I am. I know Christmas will be fun for my kids and we will all be together, probably having eaten too much, but for the children I met in the camps – who are largely separated from their families – life is hard and really quite lonely.
They don’t celebrate Christmas – they are Muslim – but they do look back at other annual events and festivities with fond memories and long for their old lives back. This year I will try to explain to my own children what I have seen and who I have met – and impress on them just how lucky we truly are.