HASAKAH, Syria (North Press) – “Born to be awesome” read the words on the faded shirt of 11-year-old Ahmad, a displaced child from the predominantly Kurdish town of Serekaniye (Ras al-Ain) in northeastern Syria. He spends his time helping his family of six, including a father with a kidney condition. “I have nothing but the heat inside the tent,” he says. He has scars on his face as a result of being burned in an accident when he was two years old, and says he will undergo cosmetic surgery when he turns 15.
Ahmad lives in the Washokani Camp, in Syria’s Hasakah countryside, for internally displaced persons (IDPs) from Serekaniye. He and his family fled the war-torn town to the camp after the Turkish invasion to North and East Syria in October 2019 forced them from their homes.
The Turkish army, along with Syrian armed opposition groups, launched the assault against the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), the military force of the Autonomous Administration in northeastern Syria and US ally in fight against the Islamic State (ISIS).
When the invasion began, the Autonomous Administration hastily set up a camp with about 1,700 tents which house nearly 12,000 IDPs, including 5,000 children.
It is impossible to describe the odor of human waste in the heat of summer. Recent spikes in temperature have led to increased cases of diarrhea and vomiting in the camp, especially because the tents are made of low-quality nylon.
Inside these plastic tent walls, the space seems too little to be called a house. There’s enough space outside to play, but what to play?
“I only have this kite to play with; a friend gave it to me,” said Ahmad, the signs of sadness evident on his entire face. “It is too hot here, it kills me. the temperature in the tent is unbearable.”
Many children in the camp are forced to accept this life as the new normal, though it lacks the most basic essentials that they as children are entitled to, such as adequate schools.
According to the camp administration, the camp includes schools divided into three shifts for elementary and secondary levels, taught by about 1,500 teachers from Serekaniye. Children receive education in Kurdish and Arabic languages, though the process has been suspended due to the precautionary measures against coronavirus.
“We receive our education in a tent, but they only teach us the alphabet,” said Ahmad, with a hint of frustration.
11 – year – old Muhammad, from the town of Serekaniye, tells North-Press that they were at the entrance of the city when the invasion began. As they were escaping to safety in the town of Tel Tamr about 35km south of Serekaniye, one of their car’s tires popped, and his father had to fix it while two aircraft flew overhead.
“My father sold his car so we can live. He is not working now, and my mother works in sewing to support the family,” he said, licking his dry, cracked lips.
In Washokani camp, it is common to see children aged 11 or 12 taking care of ones younger than them. Muhammad was holding his nine – month – old niece as North-Press interviewed him. “We all take care of her, she is so little,” he said, smiling slightly. “I miss my school and my friends in the neighborhood so much. I want to go back to them and play again. I want to go back to Ras al-Ain,” he added.
There is a side of war that children don’t know anything about – the helplessness, homelessness, and longing that continues long after the smoke clears and the guns fall silent. Overwhelming feelings of anger and sadness leave them speechless as they try in vain to remember how, in a blink of an eye, all of the tragedy and suffering took place.
12 – year – old Firyal, from the Serekaniye countryside, says that she spends time helping her mother, bringing water from the tank when needed. Firyal barely spoke, looking anxious as her hands fidgeted with a scarf covering her head and neck. The sun’s heat had no mercy on her angelic face during her daily trips to fill the jugs with water.
According to the camp’s administration, additional big tents called “reception tents” were set up with no electricity provided. Furthermore, the ground in the area is rocky not suitable for establishing a camp as the land needs to be flattened. Oftentimes, several families are forced to live in the same small tent.
Stera Rashik, the Washokani camp administrator who is also an IDP from Serekaniye, said, “We called on UN organizations for assistance, but they didn’t respond to us. The Syrian regime doesn’t allow any kind of aid to reach the camp, as the camp is not recognized by the official government.”
Rashik told North Press that the Syrian government does not consider support for the camp necessary, as they claim that IDPs from Serekaniye can simply return to their homes. She added that there is no fence surrounding the camp, because “we are the people of the region,” and that the IDPs are free to stay or leave, except for during the coronavirus lockdown.
This lack of support from both the Syrian government and international organizations severely affects those living in the camp.
Camp residents demand electricity, or at least fans, to alleviate the sweltering heat. Parts of the camp are supplied with power while others are not. Moreover, the sewage problem grows because heavy machinery breaks down while operating on the rocky ground, which must be flattened both for a sewage system and the placement of tents. To make matters worse, the influx of IDPs hasn’t stopped yet.
Children remain the most vulnerable to war, and no one knows what the future holds for them – will those children ever have sweet dreams, fly kites in blue skies, receive proper education and be what they want to be when they grow up?