5 MAJOR THREATS ROHINGYA REFUGEE CHILDREN FACE IN BANGLADESH

I have been among the Rohingya for a week, and we have major work to do — especially to keep the children safe.

An estimated 340,000 Rohingya refugee children live in crowded and unsanitary refugee camps in Bangladesh. There are a handful of established child-friendly spaces, but there simply aren’t enough shelters to meet the needs of that many children. Nor are they evenly distributed throughout the sprawling camps. Some have to walk 45 minutes each way to the closest child-friendly space.

On top of that, the staff at these centers end up getting so distracted by emergency projects, such as sourcing safe drinking water and sanitation, that they simply don’t have the time or means to focus on maintaining a safe space and meaningful activities.

There needs to be more official and consistent services for children, who are already facing these threats:

1. SEPARATION FROM PARENTS
Children and parents are often separated, whether it be amidst the confusion of their village burning down in Myanmar, or a child taking the wrong turn in the massive refugee camps and becoming lost, sometimes indefinitely. One of the few services that reunite separated kids with their families is run by a refugee himself, armed only with a table and a loudspeaker. He saw the need wasn’t being met, and he took it upon himself to reunite families. The fact that a refugee had to take this on is an indicator that large orgs need to invest more in child safety and establish more centers throughout the camps.

2. KIDNAPPING/TRAFFICKING
The trafficking scene here is alive and well, and has been since the 1992 genocide saw 300,000 Rohingya flee from Myanmar to Bangladesh. This has given traffickers decades to establish their networks in the camps before this latest exodus of 600,000 Rohingya since August of this year. With no security at the camps, traffickers easily prey upon new arrivals. Literally anyone can just walk in. While there are no official figures on how many children have gone missing, 10,000 refugee children went missing in Europe over the last few years, so we can easily guess that the figure is in the thousands.

3. MALNOURISHMENT
By the time children make it to Bangladesh, they have spent weeks in hiding in the forests of Myanmar, often without any food. They arrive in Bangladesh starving, disorientated, emaciated, and thus more susceptible to disease. There are very few resources to educate families and children about basic sanitation, and even fewer that provide supplemental food until their body weight normalizes.

There are some projects that provide supplemental nutrition. For example, Neezo’s Kitchen is a grassroots project that provides 1,300 warm meals a day for children. 1,300 meals for 340,000 children is a staggering number. There are very few, if any, other projects like this.

4. TRAUMA
Rohingya children have been exposed to high levels of trauma, due to displacement, witnessing atrocities like murder, execution, torture, and rape. Without proper help, the trauma will fester and lead to chronic depression, anxiety, and in some cases, self-harm or suicide. According to Relief Web, “Safe spaces and schools are vital if huge numbers of children fleeing from violence in Myanmar are to recover from their toxic stress.”

5. LACK OF EDUCATION
While this may not seem like an immediate risk, education is one of the most sustainable solutions to trauma and preventable disease. Rohingya aren’t even allowed beyond army checkpoints just outside of the camps, let alone given the opportunity to attend school. The illiteracy rate amongst the Rohyinga is 80%. Most children have never attended school.

We need aid organizations to set up MANY MORE safe spaces for children in the camps, where staff aren't distracted by other projects and can focus on providing safety and education.

Thank you for spreading the word.

Photo credit: Shannon Ashton, who has generously donated her time and photography to the cause.

Sources:
Reuters: Amid the exodus, lone Rohingya children face dangers in camps. 
Time: Rohingya Refugee Children Are in Desperate Need of Aid, the U.N. Says
Reuters: Traffickers prey on lost refugee children in Bangladesh camps
ReliefWeb: Rohingya refugee children need urgent help to deal with their trauma

Guest Volunteer Post: "See Ya Later!"

Beth with two adorable Yazidi children in Serres, Greece

Beth (age 23 from UK) spent a large chunk of her summer volunteering for our program Serres, Greece. She was kind enough to write up her experiences to share on our blog! 

I have been volunteering in Serres with LHI for 5 weeks now. Time seems to have a mind of its own here; I feel as though I have only just arrived and yet somehow I cannot remember life outside of my journey here with the Yazidis. 

Many of our refugee friends have been granted asylum and left for Athens this week, where they will wait a month or two to be processed before their flights to their new countries. Because of this, our team has shared many tender "see you laters" with our Yazidi friends as they continue on their paths to their new lives. 

Seeing our Yazidi friends leaving off as they progress to the next stage of their journeys - Athens

I recently wished good luck to one of my students, who is one of the kindest, strongest and most genuine humans I have had the privilege to meet. He is going to Athens to prepare for his new life now that his family have been granted asylum. “Thank you, my teacher. I will miss you, my sister” are his parting words.

Sharing smiles with our Yazidi friends

In spite of all they have faced, so many of them come to class every day with a smile, ready to learn and grow. Yet they take the time to thank us for our lessons and classes. They are determined to keep fighting for a better future, despite major challenges they have faced AFTER being forced to flee for their lives. I came to Serres to teach English, but every day I learn from the Yazidis; lessons in humility, resilience, gratitude and kindness. 

Serres is a special community where the residents have found friendship and safety through their tight-knit sense of community. It is incredible that they are given a chance to move on and resettle, but their departure from Serres is not the end of their stories. The future brings another set of challenges and some uncertainty, but they can face any challenge after the trials and struggles they've been through. 

The relationships I have made in Serres will span distance and time; I can't wait to see some of my friends again, perhaps when they start a new chapter beyond Serres, beyond Greece! 

LHI Goat Project FAQ

From LHI's May 2017 distribution in Jordan. Photo by Mike Walton.

Thank you so much for your interest in and support for our ongoing goat project in Jordan. Here are some frequently asked questions and answers. 

1. Why goats?
Goats provide a sustainable food source, restoration of some parts of culture (the families are Bedouin), and eventual source of income. And perhaps the biggest reason: Family after family that we visited pled with us for goats so that they have a sustainable source of milk.

2. Why don't the refugees already have a sustainable food source? 
Jordan got hit hard by the Syrian refugee crisis. Only 5% of 2 million refugees (registered and unregistered) live in camps. There are very few NGOs supporting refugees who live outside of camps. 

3. How do you know the refugees won't sell/eat the goats?
The kind of breed we get them aren't really for food. The breed is perfect for producing milk and breeding. The families sign a contract stating they will not sell or kill their goats. Our partner org checks on the families and their goats every month. 

4. How did you select the 400 families who will get goats?
Our Jordanian parter org selected the families based on a vulnerability scale. The aid workers know the refugees and their families very well. The project has been receiving incredibly well in the area. The rest of the families who are waiting to receive goats are very excited. 

5. Why are you asking $300 per goat? That seems like a lot. Is there overhead?
Baby goats are about $80. A regular adult goat is about $180. But a milk producing female --meaning, a young, healthy adult who has given birth and will continue to produce milk for at least a year until it gets pregnant again -- is $270. Because bringing food and nutrition to the refugees is our priority, *those* are the goats we want.

We absolutely do not profit from this campaign. Like any project, there is a little overhead and admin costs. The extra money goes towards: Monthly checks on the goats (lots of gasoline and hours), periodic visits to the veterinarian, and distribution costs. 

6. Aren't there orgs that provide goats for families at a much cheaper cost?
There are some great orgs that provide livestock to impoverished families, but they don't work in Jordan. They do a lot of their work in India and other developing countries, which is why you'll see a cheaper cost. 

7. What happens if the goats get sick?
Recipient families will contact Jabal Zamzam, our partner org. Jabal Zamzam team will take the sick goats to a local veterinarian. Veterinary care for goats is government-subsidized, as goats are such a massive and important industry here. 

8. How will the goats eat? Isn't it a desert?
Jordan is prime land for grazing and has been for thousands of years. In fact, 50,000 families in Jordan still make their living by raising herds of goats and sheep. Jordan is the 3rd largest exporter of goats in the world, and the vast majority of those goats come from herds that graze in the countryside. We want refugee families to benefit from these resources. 

9. How can you make sure the goats won't get stolen?
Petty theft in Jordan is basically non-existent. The families' nearest neighbors are also Syrian refugees who will also get goats or Jordanian farmers who also already have goats. There are goats everywhere in Jordan. Goat-napping just doesn't really happen. 

10. You are only distributing female goats. What happens when the females die out?
Distributing two female goats is by design, as protein-rich food (milk, cheese, yogurt) is our top priority! Our partner org has agreed with Jordanian farmers to lend male goats from their own herds for mating. The resulting kids will belong to the refugees. We've already seen some goats have babies! Congrats to those mamas!

Guest Post: THROUGH THEIR EYES by Anna Maria, age 15

INTRO BY HAYLEY SMITH: Anna Maria was in my 8th grade Arabic 1 class in Boston a few years ago. She has kept in touch with me since I moved to Arizona and started LHI. Ever a champion for the oppressed, she has become extremely passionate about refugee work. A few months ago, she sent me a snapshot of a beautiful piece of art that she had drawn. At first, I thought maybe it had been an assignment at school or something. It wasn't. It just...came to her. Check it out and the story behind it! 

THROUGH THEIR EYES, by Anna Maria, which hangs proudly in the school's Arabic classroom . 

ANNA MARIA'S REFLECTION:

My name is Anna Maria, and I’m a sophomore at one of the few schools that offers Arabic.  I recently made a drawing depicting the truth of the refugee crisis. I wanted to show the journey of the people who are forced to leave their country to escape violence and persecution, only to be faced with fear in the countries they enter. 

After watching the news repeatedly on the crisis, I was presented with the basic facts of the crisis. Syria is falling apart, people are fleeing, panic everywhere. The general idea. I thought about the people who have to make the journey, who risk everything for a hope of a future. I thought about the people who endure the hardships and bad conditions of the camps that they’re forced into.

With all of this going through my head, I took out my sketchbook and pencil, and planned everything out (see above). As soon as I came home, I took out paper and the large board that was sitting in my room and got to work. I still can’t fully describe the feelings I experienced that day. I felt that I had to make it, for everyone. For their voices to be heard. I drew the events that most people know of, Syria and Iraq being ravaged by ISIS, but I also drew individual people, witnessing their homes being destroyed. Witnessing their world being turned upside down. I drew the side of things the media misses. It isn’t just a crisis in some part of the world that Americans can just ignore. It’s a crisis that affects us all, and shows humans in the best and worst way.

Interjection by Hayley: Not only is Anna Maria a skilled artist, she also sent me this lovely poem of hers in December of 2016. Again, not an assignment. Thank you for sharing your talents and passion with us, Anna Maria! 

Lift up their hands

Lift up their hearts

We are the lights in their world, now so dark

We give them hope

We give them care

We do what countries won't even dare

The crumbling economies

The world surrounded by corruption

The world afraid for even the slightest disruption

They don't seem to know that they aren't the cause 

They don't seem to get who is really flawed

Leaders, you try and leave your homes

Go into a world that you don't know

It doesn't feel the same

When you are in the shoes of the ones you blame

The lone fighters

The givers

The accepting and the real

We do our best to help wounds heal

The refugees. They do not steal

They give a reason to have a world that's ideal

They trudge to other boarders

After crossing dangerous waters

They have lived 

They have seen

What you see only on a screen

Guest Blog: Tawna

Well, it has been just over a week since I left my yazidi friends and fellow volunteers in Northern Greece, to do a little traveling and then return to home to the states.  I’m struggling to put to words what I want to say about my time there, but know that I mostly want focus on the people that I was blessed to meet.  They are my new heroes, some of my new best friends, and just all around good people, Knowing these faces as individuals has helped me separate them from just the blanket title of “refugee,” with all its connotations that we so easily glean from the media, and to instead see them as friends.  Though these friends certainly are refugees, and have experienced much of the sorrow and horror that you might expect from one in their circumstance (and usually worse than we’d imagine), I know more certainly that such a title does not define them.   It is an experience they’ve been forced into, and one that is greatly shaping their future, but it is not who they are.  This is something I knew before going, but is something I feel and know more deeply and honestly, now. 

            One of my early experiences in Greece helped me to come to understand this a little more.  A few of us were visiting with a young family there—a man and his wife, two of their children, and an 18-year-old nephew.  We were talking and eating, smiling, and trying to share a nice evening together despite our great language differences affecting communication.  I don’t remember the exact context, but as the nephew and I began to talk, he mentioned that he loved photography.  He began to show me pictures that he’d taken on his phone—of him posing in different settings, of friends and family, and then many of the sunrise, which he’d sometimes wake up for very early in the morning. (He did so with the intention of taking such photos and appreciating the calm and beauty.)    It was such a simple thing—showing me some of his photography—but it helped me to know him more personally, to know him more as an individual, as Hashim.  Hashim and I then had that connection of photography, as jetlag had “helped” me wake up long before sunrise earlier that week, and I too had ended up taking many photos as the sun rising over the sea.  It was so lovely to see that slow, steady reminder of beauty in the world, and of consistent hope despite the chaos that was ensuing around the world.   Starting that day, Hashim and I were becoming friends, and I was able to see and know him more as himself and not just his circumstance.  I’ll be forever grateful for that.

            Some of those I was able to get to know and love the best, were the students in my Advanced English class.  I took over the task of teaching this class of 8 girls, and it was one of the best experiences of my life. Those girls are amazing, and are now some of my best friends.   I could regal anyone who is interested with hours of stories about my time with each of them, about how quick they were to pick up new words and how they begged for homework every day, how deeply they ache for learning, about the poems they wrote, or about our fun and silly walks and inside jokes, or about their deep desire to share and feel happiness.  But because no one will read an entire novel on a single blog, I’ll just share a few random memories that stand out to me at this moment.

            After one of my first classes upon arriving, my student Widian and another volunteer and I decided to go walking down the beach to enjoy the unusually warm day.  Widian immediately grabbed my arm as we walked, and down the beach we went, with Widian laughing at me because of how excited the sunshine and outdoors were making me.  The sunshine was making me a little giddy, and I told them that I was so happy to be outside that I felt like doing a cartwheel on the sand.  Widian did not know what a cartwheel was, so my teammate Leah and I began to teach her.  It was hilarious to see us all trying desperately to do cartwheels in the sand with our heavy boots—and Leah and I’s poor teaching skills.  It led to a lot of sitting in the sand, laughing, and to the building of a strong friendship. Widian may still struggle with doing cartwheels (she tried again just last week), but the memory is something we laugh about when we think of how we first became good friends.  She has become one of my best and dearest, since then.

            Another memory that sticks out to me—perhaps because it is so recent—comes from one of my last nights there with my friends in Greece. As one of my girls and I walked home from a dinner we had attended, hosted by friends from another local nonprofit, we got to talking a little about her experience that led her being a refugee there in Greece.  She said she had only told her story 3 times, because it was very difficult, but she was willing to tell me anything if I wanted to know.  I assured her she did not ever need to speak of it to me unless she felt the desire to, and so we walked down the dark street, watching the ocean waves and trying to hold onto the fun memory of the evening we’d just had.  But as the waves continued to crash alongside us, she began to speak to me about her experience crossing from Turkey, about being shot at by the Turkish military, about her fears of the large waves, and also fear of what would happen if the boat would have to turn back.  I told her how brave she was—to be where she is now, to keep up such a bright hope and willingness to smile and give love and to laugh after all she has seen and suffered.  But she denied being strong.  “I am not strong,” she said, “not strong at all.  I cry everyday. What good does that do?  I am not strong.  Others in the class, they are strong because they can talk about this, and because they smile.  But me, what good does it do that I still cry everyday? Nothing.”  This was coming from a 13-year-old girl who has shared her story with a few media outlets to help try and improve the situation of her people.  And even if she hadn’t?  This is a girl who has seen death and suffering, who has moved from country to country trying to seek a better life while fleeing some of the greatest and most malicious evil in the world today, and yet who I still saw with a smile on her face each day.  This is a girl who wakes up each day and eagerly attends classes to learn English and guitar, who is obsessed with football, who asks for books from Einstein and Stephen Hawking because she wants “to learn everything!!”, who babysits other family’s children to give them a break, who offered me her shower when our hotel’s water was shut off, who laughs daily, who likes to run and wanted to participate as a virtual racer in a race halfway across the world, who dreams of moving to Canada and attending university, and who is fighting everyday within her circumstances to maintain hope and to build a future for herself, wherever she is.  She is strong.  She is brave.  She is one of my heroes.  

            Each of the girls in that Advanced English class could have the same said of them.  Each of the residents I met and associated with each day could have the same said about their amazing resiliency and maintained human decency and hope and kindness and strength.  I am so humbled to know them, and to call them my friends.   Another of these young girls wrote me a paper about herself.  She ended it with these words:  “I don’t hate anyone, and I can’t hate anyone because my heart is full of love of my family and my friends and I don’t have any place in my heart to hate anyone.  Why don’t we love each other instead of hating each other? “

            I’ll just finish with a poem another of my students wrote:

They still ask me: ‘how much do you love your friends?’

            And I tell them,

            How many drops of water are there in the sea?

            They say, ‘That is not an answer,” and I tell them

            My love for my friends is like this:

            All the words in the world are not enough to express

            My love for my friends.

                                    --Shirin K.

I love these, my yazidi friends.  I hope to never forget what they have taught me.  I hope the world will start to see them as people, just like you and me, and that we reach out to help them, like our brothers and sisters that they are.

A Year of LHI

We'll let their voices and beautiful faces show you how we feel about the one year LHI has been around. 

An update from Greece

Hi all. This is Hayley. I've been back in Europe for a few weeks, first visiting Syrian family newly resettled in France, and then on to visiting the Yazidi group that LHI helps provide aid for, and popping over to Lesvos to check out the conditions on the island and see where we can fill some gaps. Refugee work is kinda like an energy drink -- it gives you the highest highs and the lowest lows. It's pouring rain outside here in the port town of Mytilini, which is both lulling me to a restless sleep and also making me crazy worried about the 8,000 refugees living in flimsy tents and abandoned squats around the island. More on Lesvos soon (I haven't quite processed the desperation I witnessed today to write it down yet). So, in the meantime, here's an update on our main project in Greece.

Serres camp, the camp we normally are based in and provide aid/services to. Currently home to 500+ Yazidis from Sinjar, Iraq. 500+ survivors of a horrific genocide. 500+ people who are full of grace and gentleness. The actual camp has been temporarily closed for much-needed improvements to infrastructure. Where are they now that the camp is closed, you may ask? They have been moved to various hotels in a small, sleepy seaside town in Northern Greece where locals don't actually obey the one traffic light in town. They've finally got heated rooms, hot water, and actual beds, which is so necessary, as it has been an extremely cold winter. The transition back to the camp will naturally be tough, but let's not think about that right now. 

We've rented a space from a sweet Greek couple in the town, where we continue to provide hygiene and food distribution, as well as hosting English practice, music sessions, and trauma-informed yoga for children, men, and women. Yes yoga. And yes, men's yoga. In fact, men's yoga is one of our most in-demand classes. As survivors of genocide, I can only imagine how soothing mindfulness can be to them. And it's not just that -- waiting and waiting to find out where you will be assigned resettlement without knowing when is enough to rattle anyone's cage.

We are so grateful for all of the residents. They are beautiful, gentle, patient people. They've become like family to us. Every time we try to help them, it's actually they who are helping us. I am in constant awe of their kindness. 

We host an advanced English group to a handful of interested teenage girls. We can't believe how much they've improved since LHI started working with this group of Yazidis in early August of last year. They are legitimately becoming fluent in English. Every time I visit, I'm shocked at their progress and passion.

Tawna F. is one of our current volunteers who runs the advanced English sessions. Here are some of her pictures and thoughts:

---

"Teaching these girls is a ride. (A good one.) They are so full of energy and excitement and they just want to eat up anything I can teach them. They are the best part of my day.  We did a picture scavenger hunt for fun (and to test vocab comprehension) and these girls probably ran a full mile just to get an authentic photo of cheese and a boat. :) They were incredibly into it."

"After class one day, my Advanced English students and I decided to take a walk. Seeing these girls run so freely, laughing as they kicked up the sand behind them, was an image I never want to forget."

"One thing I love about this work is the people it brings together from all over the world. In this photo we had 3 Iraqis, an American, Mexican, Frenchman, Egyptian, and an Irish lass, jamming out to an Iraqi Saz and a Bolivian guitar. All in one small room in Greece. :)"