“Our greatest fear should not be fear of failure, but of succeeding at things in life that don’t really matter.”
~Francis Chan
I recently returned from a week in Jordan, touching base with our partner organizations supporting Syrian refugees in the field, and to catch up with some of the families, new and old, who have fled the war in Syria and sough refuge in Jordan. The trip was productive from a business perspective, but it was also a sobering reality check for how much worse the situation in Syria, and in the neighboring countries hosting its 3.4 million refugees, continues to grow. As dark as some of the times on this trip were, there were glimmers of hope throughout. I share those below.
Day One: The Arrival
After arriving from Frankfurt at 3 am, Justin and I decided to just spend a few hours in Amman’s Queen Alia airport instead of having our driver meet us in the middle of the night. We set up camp in the Starbucks, buying only a coffee and a muffin while hanging out for four hours. Justin curled up in the chair and went to sleep while I stayed awake to watch our bags. We were both freezing and pulled out all of our sweatshirts and even put on hats and gloves. Most businesses would probably have asked us to leave unless we were going to buy more coffee (and would be justified in doing so!), but not these guys. Instead, they brought us blankets. Welcome to Jordan.
The moon is full, and so are our hearts in expectation of the week to come.
Day Two: A lost generation?
The distant view into Syria from Mafraq, a cruel and constant reminder of the beloved land so many have left behind. Tens of thousands of Syrians have sought refuge in this northern Jordanian community, causing the cost of living for refugees and locals alike to sky-rocket. An apartment that used to rent for 75 JD/month now can go for over 350 JD (appx. 500 USD). Though they cling to the hope of one day returning to their homeland, many of these families will never be able to return to Syria. That’s why we partner with a great organization focused not only on providing relief aid, but also on longer-term development, including a school for refugee children and adult education opportunities.
10-year-old Hassan (not posted publicly at the request of the family) wants to be a mechanical engineer when he grows up. Syria’s children are being called a “lost generation,” as millions have lost their childhoods, and their opportunities for an education, to endless war.
When our interpreter tried to explain to Hassan that Justin is a mechanical engineer who designs elevators, Hassan delivered a passionate three-minute monologue that went something like this:
“Oh he designs elevators, does he? Well, you don’t need to tell me what engineers do — I know what they do! I’ve been designing mechanical things since I was little. I have all kinds of things that I made back in Syria! I think when I go back to Syria and I grow up, he (Justin) and I should go into a mechanical engineering business together. Of course, I will be the boss, and he can work for me, because I have all kinds of great ideas!”
They later shook hands to solidify the agreement. I guess this means there’s a move to Syria in our future. Better start packing.
Day Three: Reconciliation
Today I met my match in little Masa. This 3-year-old from Homs, Syria is quite the rising star. When she saw me arrive in my sun glasses, she scampered into the other room to find hers. Her’s are way cooler, they have Spiderman; I’m a little jealous. While Masa impressed us with all the English words she knows (including but not limited to “wheel barrel” and “hippo”), her father shared a bit of his story with us. A former photojournalist, he was forced to leave Syria a year and a half ago when the fighting just got too bad and too close to home that he could not justify putting his family at risk, even if it meant giving up his career, leaving their friends, family, home, and his beloved cameras behind to come to a land where he would not be allowed to work and would have to rely on aid to care for his family. Shortly after the family arrived, his wife gave birth to their son. Born a refugee with no Syrian ID, he’s also quite the budding little ham.
I. is 10 years old and has not attended school since her family fled Syria over six months ago. She has not been able to enroll since coming to Jordan as the family does not have formal identification for her. Her baby brother (not the baby pictured), the family’s only son, suffers from a rare heart condition and recently received life-saving surgery, thanks to the assistance of another NGO. I. is very attentive to her younger siblings and is sure to make an excellent mother one day. The family fled Syria by night, making their way from Homs to the Jordanian border in twelve hours, riding in a dump truck and unable to use any lights. The ride was bumpy and the children were very scared and confused. But it is better here now that there is no war, the family says.
I.’s little brother was served by a Christian organization based out of Israel. Although the organization wishes to serve whoever is in need, regardless of their heritage or ethnicity, it is obviously quite a challenge to convince families of an Arab background to receive service from an Israeli organization. I.’s parents eventually agreed, realizing this was the only option to save their young son’s life. I.’s grandfather said, “All of our lives we have been taught that Bashar Al Assad is for us, that he will protect us, and that the Israelis are the enemy. Now it is Bashar who is trying to kill us and the Israelis who have saved our son’s life.”
Day Four: Hope for a future
Sad to leave Mafraq today, but grateful to have spent three full and amazing days with some amazing people there who spend their days reaching out to the community and loving on Syrian families. The organization maintains a regular caseload of 200 - 400 families, and the total served through aid distribution exceeds 6,000 families so far. In addition to aid distribution, case management, and home visits, they’re focused on long-term development for the refugee population. They’re in the process of building a school and community center to provide vital education opportunities for Syrian children, many of whom have not been able to attend school in over two years. Within the next few weeks, construction will be finished on the final classrooms (seen below) and the number of students served will be able to expand from the current 38 to over 70. I spent the morning hanging out with the kids who returned to school today after getting a few days off for the Muslim holiday, Eid al Adha. It was great to see the teachers and counselors working with the kids and to have a chance to love on them a bit myself. Incredible work these guys are doing and you can tell the difference in the kids’ lives already. So grateful to know them and to be able to partner with them to help impact the future of Syria — these kids. Thanks to all of you who contributed funds for several of our Syria campaigns, as much of it went toward helping to expand this school. We can’t end the war, but we can help shape the future. That’s what these guys are doing every day and it’s what you’re doing when you give. So thanks!
Day Five: A flower in the desert
I always love arriving in Zataari Village to the sight of smiles and sounds of giggles. This informal tented settlement, home to approximately 1,000 Syrian families, lies just outside the UN’s Zataari refugee camp, the world’s second largest and home to over 130,000 Syrians. Jordan is host to over 600,000 Syrian refugees, with hundreds of thousands more unregistered and uncounted, as more and more Syrians and Iraqis flood across the border each day. But behind these overwhelming and disheartening statistics are precious faces just like this one. A very special place.
The families of Zataari Village receive very little assistance from NGOs, except for our partners at Dar Al Yasmin (House of Jasmine in Arabic).
I try not to play favorites, but Khalid and his family are pretty irresistible. Khalid is blessed with five beautiful little girls and one little boy. It was great to get to see them again and see how much their lives have changed just in the eight months since we last saw them. The little ones are growing like weeds and the family is in the process of building a cement home to replace the tent they had been living in since fleeing Homs. When we arrived, the sweet grandmother, whom we adore, was in another building. When the family heard we were asking about her, they sent someone off to bring her to the house. When she arrived, she was full of love, joy, and smiles, embracing and kissing us both. We told her she is our Syrian grandmother and she asked when we were going to have a baby.
I asked Khalid and his wife what their hopes and dreams are for their family and their children and they said, “We don’t think much about their future. We just want to figure out how to live today. Will we have enough food to eat? Will we ever return to Syria? We cannot really allow ourselves to think too far beyond this.”
Day Five: Rays of Light
When I was little, sun beams would always remind me of God; it was as if he was peeking out from behind the clouds just to say hey. Still to this day, I associate them with God’s presence and provision. On a day full of difficult stories of death and dismemberment, loss and despair — stories that unfortunately offer a much more accurate picture of the reality facing these families than my previous posts may imply, a reality I generally choose not to share — this beautiful scene as we drove out of Zataari Village served as a subtle but poignant reminder that God is still present with us even in the midst of such a tragic situation facing so many in Syria, Iraq, and elsewhere throughout this world. I may not understand why any of this is happening and I will always be hurt over it, but I know that as much as I grieve over what is happening in the Middle East, it grieves the heart of God infinitely more. Perhaps you are walking through your own difficult season and can find comfort in this knowledge as well.
“I want to tell you there are two things that I hate: One is when people say to me thank you and the other is when people say to me they are sorry. If you are my friend, you cannot say to me these things,” said my Syrian friend after I thanked him for showing us hospitality by serving us tea/orange juice in his home. Perhaps a more accurate picture of what the Middle East is like than is portrayed on the news, but I can see why it wouldn’t make headlines.
Day Six: Always a reason to smile
I’m not sure, but I think the kids had fun today. One last day hanging out with the kids of Zataari Village and our partners DAY - Dar Al Yasmin. The organization focuses on emergency relief and educational development opportunities for children living in an informal tented settlement outside of the UN’s Zataari Camp. Many of the kids have not had formal schooling for years and there is much catching up to be done. The organization plans to open a new school in the coming weeks for the younger kids in the community.
In the meantime, they have a very old, dilapidated playground to play on.
How can you help?
If you would like to help make a difference in the lives of these and other Syrian and Iraqis displaced by recent violence in the region, you can learn more at Road to Mafraq.
