A drop in the ocean

This Christmas, half my family got “in your name donations”… meaning I bought winter gloves ($1 / pair) and fuzzy socks/slippers ($1.50 / pair) in Jordan for kids in Za’atari I know need them. I put this together with some photos, and it made for a touching gift.

I was discussing this with a friend, and she relayed a common sentiment: the love of donations like the above, where you see the result (50 girls got a pair of mittens and socks for the winter), and the lackluster other option, “donating to big organizations that already have so much money.”

I think this is a pretty common opinion.. and all the more frustrating because its patently false. I watched the below video — images of refugees walking across the Jordanian border, story of a paralyzed 2 year old heading with her family to live in Za’atari Camp — and was reminded again how massive the need is, the need that these “big organizations” are seeking to respond to.

UNHCR recently appealed for a record high 6.5 billion in funding to deal with the Syrian crisis. That’s a huge amount of money… but in the 4th year of this tragic war, its expected that the humanitarian community will be providing aid to 3/4ths of the Syrian population. That’s a shocking number – 3/4ths of a population in need of help.

To make it more clear, the same friend hands me a “Christmas gift” check for $120 for the kids in our programs. I am overjoyed (that’s a lot of money coming from a recent grad), and thank her, “It seems like something small, but $120 is 240 pairs of mittens.” My friend laughed, “No need to spend it all on mittens.” But the follow up response, of course, put it in perspective: there are 100,000 Syrians in Za’atari Camp.. 60,000 children… and 240 pairs means that 59,760 children – in Za’atari Camp alone – don’t receive any.

Anyway, the fact of the matter is the reason these organizations appear to “have so much money” … is because they need so much money… and then some.

Another common opinion, it seems, is that the need is so huge, what’s the use of a small donation? Again, an idea that couldn’t be farther from the truth. For one great donation idea, check out this new campaign – a partnership between Mercy Corps and a grassroots volunteer group in Jordan – We Care About Syria.

To imagine how far the money can stretch:

• $3 will provide a child with art materials and toys wrapped in a bright bag to look like a gift rather than a hand-out.
• $5 will provide a family with a hygiene package of essentials
• $15 will provide a mattress
• $30 will provide a whole kitchen cooking and eating set for a family of 6
• $35 will provide three blankets
• $100 will provide a child’s wheelchair; so many children have suffered injuries in this war
• $850 will buy a house – yes, we can buy and install a prefabricated house for a refugee family living outside of the camps in make-shift tents. A farmer has donated some land and the families in need identified.

Anyway, I suppose my other point all along has been, a drop in the ocean is still a drop.

Spread love everywhere you go.

Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.

– Mother Teresa

Winter Ups and Down

Well, it snowed in Jordan!

I can’t help but feel constant ups and downs about the early start to winter.

I’ll share some of them in attempts of explanation..

1) Being snowed in for an all-night Christmas party at Dan’s house.

2) Watching little kids building a snowman in a neighborhood of Homs in Syria – which has been blockaded by the regime for 500, thus left to face the early winter storm with no gas or electricty.

As the citizen journalist describes the dire situation in the neighborhood, the kids interrupt, talking amongst themselves “Now put the eyes! Yeah, just use the snow.”

More at: Syria Direct

3) Venturing out in the snow to gather the necessary supplies for 3 days of movies, hot chocolate and kahlua, and snuggling.

4) Thinking of friends in Zaatari sitting in caravans, or worse, in tents without heaters or winter clothes as strong winds and heavy rain rips through the camp.

More at: Syria Direct

5) Arriving in Boston, happy to be home for a White Christmas.

6) Reading about refugees in Lebanon, who are all the more worse off from snowfall and lack of resources.

A flock of small boys trotted by. “Bring us clothes!” one shouted. “We are cold!” called another.

More at: NY Times

I guess its inevitable that I couldn’t be happier or sadder that winter is finally here. It seems appropriate to return back to some favorite lines from Mahmoud Darwish, Think of Others:

As you return home, to your home, think of others
(do not forget the people of the camps).

As you sleep and count the stars, think of others
(those who have nowhere to sleep).

One of my favorites from Zaatari wearing his new winter hat – which he chose himself during our distribution of over 4,000 donated hats.

He was pretty happy with himself and, needless to say, warm.

You can donate to the UN emergency response here

You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future.

You have to trust in something – your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.

– Steve Jobs

Female Slam Poetry in Jordan

Nadine, as per usual, writes a compelling piece about Jordanian women in Amman’s Spoken Word scene.

Its further proof of Jordan’s confusing identity; the reality of so many different types of people and lifestyles darting across this region that make it impossible to speak about Jordan – the Middle East – or Arabs in any sweeping generalizations.

As tonight’s poetry reading draws to a close, Aysha speaks her own manifesto of youth. The emotion is raw, but no one looks away as her piece crescendos.

“It was my friends who hugged their canvases and wept for brothers killed in the doom of Arab revolution, and guilted over the fire exit of their breath,” she raps, her words echo within the narrow walls.

“But I still have my dictators falling, as the Arab Spring fireworks into a festive autumn. So for all I care me and my friends are the sunrise.”

Read all here —> Jordan’s Underground Female Slam Poetry Scene

“Few will have the greatness to bend history; but each of us can work to change a small portion of events, and in the total of all those acts will be written the history of this generation … It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is thus shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring, those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”

No one feels the pain, except he who is injured

Well, its clear how much I love Reem and Shadi’s family … as I am compelled to write another post about them. The two fell in love and married, despite families’ misgivings, when they were 19 and 20 respectively. Now they have their own beautiful family with two small girls and a little boy all under age 4.

If its true what they say about one’s real character showing under adversity – well, then I’d imagine its hard to find better people than Reem and Shadi. There’s a lot that could keep them sad or bitter.. but you never heard a bad word from them, instead they are constantly buried in work serving the community.

The other day, I gave Shadi some permanent markers to use to decorate his caravan. I came back today and my heart melted – two messages with such simple honesty that made me happy.. and sad.

An expression of love..

Shadi — “Every beat of my heart says I love you” — Reem

Paired with a sad truth…

Don’t complain to people of your injuries

No one feels the pain, except he who is injured

Even the strongest of families in Zaatari have been injured. One thing I’ve learned from working there … you rarely find something happy without being reminded of something sad.

Education in Zaatari

Often, critics come down hard on education in Zaatari. There are three official schools in Zaatari, meant to serve the 60,000 children living in the camp. However, only 1 out of 3 children aged 6 to 14 attends school. There are many different reasons — some students have been out of school for over a year, some children are focused on working or helping their family, some families don’t want their children walking across the camp alone, and there have been more than a few problems in the schools that has cost them designation as a “safe space.”

However one opinion I hear a lot is: “They don’t like to read.”

Most Syrians in Zaatari are from Deraa and the surrounding countryside. I’ve met many who cite the culture and upbringing of the Syrians of Zaatari Camp as the reason for the lack of interest in school. I’ve heard it inside the camp, from aid workers, and outside the camp, from Jordanians. These voices constantly speak about a the lack of interest from the parents and children themselves in learning.

I could (and have) argue against such an opinion for hours.

Parents are uninterested in forcing their kids to attend school? Maybe because they just watched their families killed and normal life destroyed – and are left dazed, with little hope for the future. Children are unmotivated to attend school? Maybe because they were just forced from their own schools, where they had friends, a curriculum they understood, teachers they loved and hated, and a community they called their own.

However, now I will add a new story to my argument: a wonderful family I have been working with through IRD’s Zaatari soccer program.

Shadi and Reem are a young couple from Deraa who fell in love – and despite the hesitations of their family – got married and started a life together. They left Deraa seven months ago, when the violence became all-encompassing and they feared for the safety of their three young children.

Sitting in their caravan, I watch their oldest daughter, Gazel, put on her bright blue UNICEF backpack and listen to her regale the family with stories from 1st grade.

“Today I learned….kaza kaza kaza.” Shadi and Reem have been teaching her since she was old enough to talk – now on command she can recite the English shes memorized (“toufah APPLE bisa CAT mouza BANANA ab wa im FATHER AND MOTHER”).

Today in conversation with Reem, I asked her to remind me – “Forgive me for forgetting, but how old is Gazel again?” Without missing a beat she responded, “4 years old.”

I nodded… then thought about it for a minute. Wait.. 4 years old? isn’t she in first grade?

With a smile Reem responded… “Sa7… kiberna’ha schway”

Which literally translates… “Yes, we grew her up a little bit”

Meaning this family, in addition to constantly teaching little Gazel, whether in Syria or in Zaatari Camp, also consciously stretched her age a bit — to allow her to go to school every day for 5 hours and benefit from the resources UNICEF is providing in the camp.

Thanks to her parents, when Gazel goes back to Syria she will actually be ahead of her peers by two years… because her parents really care about her education and take conscious steps to ensure she learns and develops each day – despite entering school for the first time far from home in a crowded refugee camp. These uplifting stories are more common than not – and sustain my faith in the people of Zaatari.

Nizar Qabbani

 

I love her when she drinks her morning coffee,

and she drinks me

I love her more when she assures me she’ll take over the world,

and she takes over me

A Photo Update on My Life

Travelling the Wadi Rum Desert: Katy and our Bedouin Guide

High School Flashback: Basketball Clinic for Baqaa Girls

Arts and Crafts Mailed From Mom: Ban and Jeelan Kidnap Me

Carnivale at Baqaa: King Mohammed

Peace in Zaatari: New Girls’ Sports Program

And.. that’s all! Sorry for disappearing. Can’t promise I won’t do it again, but I am going to try to resume my good blogging skills this Eid vacation!