“FAR FROM HOME: The 13 worst refugee crises for girls.” Part 3

STORY 7

This 15-year-old Aspiring Filmmaker is Highlighting the Bonds Within Her Refugee Community

Walaa and her family used to spend time together gathered around the TV at home in Syria watching their favorite shows. Movies and TV captivated Walaa. She often filled the hours after school or before bed immersed in the worlds of Syrian TV and imagining how she might create her own productions one day.

“I have dreamed of becoming a filmmaker for as long as I can remember,” she says.

When the war in Syria began in 2011, it interrupted those dreams and transformed her reality into something much harsher than the series she watched or dreamed of creating. In early 2014, constant attacks and fighting drove Walaa’s family from their home. Soon after, a bomb exploded near Walaa’s father Mohammed, piercing his leg with shrapnel and ultimately forcing doctors to amputate it.

“Had there been better medical care, my leg would have been treated easily,” Mohammed says. “But because of the war, not only was I injured, but treating my injury timely enough was not possible, so I lost my leg.”

Four years later, Walaa, now 15, and her family live in Azraq, a small, remote, desert town 65 miles east of Jordan’s capital Amman. Mohammed works in a small coffee shop and fixes electronics. Managing the bustling coffee shop requires Mohammed to be quick and nimble, which can be difficult on one leg. He relies on his son Nasr, 12, to help him.

“He is the leg that I lean on,” Mohammed says.

The poignancy of such a supportive and loving father-son relationship hasn’t escaped Walaa’s attention or her camera lens. Walaa recently directed and produced a short documentary about her father and brother called “The Little Engineer,” so named for Nasr’s penchant for fixing electronics, a lifelong hobby Mohammed has passed to his son. Walaa created the film as part of a CARE-supported film school at Azraq’s camp for Syrian refugees. At the film camp, professional filmmakers instruct and mentor aspiring filmmakers like Walaa. She produced “The Little Engineer” with three other Syrian refugee girls her age.

“The concept behind the documentary was my idea,” she says. “I wanted to showcase an example of a Syrian refugee family struggle, especially how, due to our circumstances, a child is forced to juggle school and work. It is not easy, and I wanted to shed the spotlight on it. I am very happy with the end product!”

School is one of Walaa’s biggest joys, and her favorite subject is science. But few things excite her like making movies.

“The film school helped me technically, so I will already have an idea about production, directing and filming if I succeed in fulfilling my dream in the future.”

Walaa and her family hope to resettle in another country where she can chase her filmmaking dreams. As with so many refugees, however, resettlement is hardly guaranteed and fraught with challenges.

“I was approached by a man I thought I knew well, promising to help us resettle in Canada,” Mohammed says. “In order to help make our resettlement happen, he demanded we pay $700. ‘These fees are a mandatory deposit,’ he told me. ‘They will be returned to you at the airport before you leave Jordan.’”

Instead, the man took Mohammed’s money and disappeared, dashing the family’s hopes and leaving them in debt.

“What saddens me most is that we had hope, so much of it, and it was all taken away suddenly.”

This was not the first time the family had — and lost — hope for resettlement. Early last year they received news they’d be resettled in the United States. But that prospect quickly faded when the Trump administration banned citizens of several countries, including Syria, from entering the U.S.

Despite such obstacles, Walaa keeps her camera trained on the special moments — her brother fetching coffee for their father or fixing electronics by his side. It helps keep her dream alive, especially as it takes shape around new moments and experiences.

“One day, I will talk about the situation of Syrian refugees, and about all that has happened in Syria since the beginning of the war,” Walaa says. “Even when the war ends, the suffering of Syrians will not end soon. It will take time for life in Syria to become normal again. That is what I want to talk about. I have always believed in one thing: If you have a dream and you work hard enough, you can certainly achieve it.”

 STORY 8

Restoring Hope to Learn

“When I joined this school, I could hardly read and write,” says 12-year-old Hamdi. “Now I am the best in my class. I can even speak English. When I grow up, I want to be a doctor and help all people who are sick or hurt.”

Hamdi is one of six children. Her parents divorced and abandoned her and her siblings when she was only 6, shortly after they had fled ongoing fighting in their hometown in the Lower Shabelle region for Mogadishu. The children were left to fend for themselves. Hamdi’s oldest sister, Istar, became the only mother and father they would know.

At first, Hamdi was enrolled in a school that was providing affordable primary education funded by the U.N. But in 2013, the school was shut down due to lack of funds, and Hamdi dropped out. She had always dreamed of becoming a doctor, but with the closure of her school and her sister’s inability to provide school fees, she felt lost and disheartened.

“My life had lost meaning,” Hamdi says. She began washing clothes for other families to support the household income. She is from a minority clan in Somalia, meaning that she faces more challenges and has fewer opportunities compared with the other dominant clans, especially in terms of access to quality education and gainful employment.

Opportunities for education in Somalia are limited anyway. Only 42 percent of primary school-age children in the country are going to school. Civil war, drought, displacement and steep social and economic barriers have affected education delivery and contributed to one of the lowest school enrollment rates in the world.

CARE – with funding from the Education Above All Foundation – aims to contribute to sustainable and relevant primary education for all in Somalia. The goal is to enroll 30,100 poor and marginalized out-of-school children across three regions of Somalia. So far, CARE has constructed 155 classrooms and rehabilitated 27 classrooms in 58 schools, supported teachers with training, enrolled 13,099 children in school and provided teaching and learning materials. Due to high enrollment rates in the community schools in Mogadishu, a double shift system was introduced, one in the morning and the other in the afternoon, to ensure that all children have an equal learning opportunity.

Since the collapse of the government in 1991 and subsequent outbreak of civil war that has persisted for 25 years, Somalia has had no public schools, as all government-owned schools are privatized and some occupied by squatters. The fees for primary schools range from $10 to $15 a month per child, while the average family income is $1 a day. For most families, education remains a luxury.

In November 2014, through community outreach, Hamdi’s sister heard about the new CARE primary school constructed in their camp for internally displaced people. Excited at the prospect of re-enrolling her siblings, Istar immediately made Hamdi quit her job and sent her and three of her siblings back in school, despite the fact that they were helping support the family with daily income.

Hamdi is now in third grade. Undeterred by the sense of hopelessness experienced by the displaced communities in Mogadishu, Hamdi works very hard in school and is admired by her teachers. She has already learned to read and write Somali and basic English, and is excited about restarting her education.

“Before the opening of this school, children were roaming aimlessly in the camp,” says Istar, Hamdi’s older sister and protector. “You know the situation here in Mogadishu: Small children are easily persuaded to join militia and gang groups, especially if they are idle. Now, the children from this camp are occupied with schooling and are disciplined.” 

STORY 9

To fight or flee? The decision no 12-year-old should have to make

When armed groups invaded her village in northeast Nigeria, Hadiza, 15, had two options before they burned it down: leave or join their terrorizing force. Armed groups killed her mother and father. Hadiza fled. Three years later, she lives in relative safety in another part of Nigeria. Her message to the world? Don’t give up on educating displaced girls, as learning enlightens them and gives them the knowledge, tools and confidence to stand up for themselves, even at times when it seems no one else will. 

Now in its ninth year, the crisis in northeast Nigeria remains one of the most severe in the world. 3 million people are estimated to suffer from critical food insecurity. Large-scale displacements take place monthly. In many locations, resources are stretched too thin and security constraints pose a major challenge to the timely delivery of assistance.