Decisions, decisions, decisions...

We’re home again – somewhat exhausted and disorientated after Storm Doris’s activities.  Yesterday we got up at 3.30am for a 7.30am flight (two hours ahead of UK time).  After an uneventful flight we approached the runway. The plane began rocking and bucking, my Lebanese breakfast jumping nauseatingly in my leaping stomach.  The wheels hit the tarmac then lifted again, eventually bouncing to a standstill.  We naively thought we’d drawn the trainee pilot.

Baggage claim - tick, tube to St Pancras – tick, snacks for lunch - tick., departures board – tick. Then we saw a string of delayed and cancelled trains.  A very helpful train services person told us about the storm.  I’m giving you the outline!  We went to Kings Cross - we’d been told Virgin lines might be OK.  We bought tickets to Doncaster.  Then all trains were cancelled until further notice.

We legged it to Victoria coach station, thankfully securing a seat on the 4.30pm Megabus before the stranded hordes descended. By now we were suffering from our sleep deprivation and dehydration (we were rushing about a lot) , and I had a migraine – the low point of the journey was falling asleep on the filthy floor of the coach terminal, my head on my rucksack.  After a 5-hour coach ride, we arrived in Sheffield.  Smiling up at us was the welcoming face of our lovely friend Lucy, and nearby her husband, waiting in a warm car.  Before long I was snuggled in bed, head on familiar pillow, enveloped by warm duvet and sinking onto our very comfortable mattress.  I was home.  Safe, warm, secure.  In familiar surroundings, feeling incredibly grateful for family and friends who’d been keeping in contact all day to make sure we were OK.

This morning we remembered the people we met in Lebanon.  The Syrian refugees who are strangers in a foreign land, and becoming more unwelcome throughout the middle east as they take scarce low paid jobs, and drain already limited resources.  Our ‘guide’ told us that in Lebanon, refugees now make up 1 in 3 of the population.  These people travelled through unbelievably hard conditions, leaving behind their friends and family. They fled from fighting and constant bombs, only to be shot at for days as they tried to escape. Others fled Isis occupied areas when they were accused of collaborating with the government and had all their possessions confiscated. They were in fear of their lives. Families don’t know whom to trust. They don’t want us to take their photographs in case people know they’ve been talking to us. They don’t want people to know their children go to a school run by a Christian charity.  They still live in fear for their lives.

At the end of my journey, my home was waiting.  My friends were waiting.  The families we met have no homes to go back to, and many of their friends and family have been killed. They live in tented refugee camps, at the mercy of the elements. In summer the stifling heat and smell are overbearing.  In harsh cold wet winters, camps turn to mud.  Children miss school when it rains - at the shack school they can’t get dry so would be cold all day.  We watched children tramping across fields after school – some of them live in camps a kilometre or more away. They can’t go to government schools because either their parents can’t afford the transport, or they are unregistered refugees.

When we travelled to the Bekaa valley, the stunning mountains distracted us from the suffering in the valley. The breakfast knafeh (sweet cheese in a sesame bun) from a roadside pasty shop, filled us up for hours – unlike the woman who said, ‘What should I do? Feed my children, or send them to school?’  

I am incredibly privileged to be able to make these trips, and grateful to Global Care for giving me the opportunity.  I’m trying to never underestimate how fortunate I am (I haven’t mentioned healthcare/ clean water/ sanitation…).

As a wise man once said, ‘You can’t do everything, you mustn’t do nothing, you can do something.’

I’m going to carry on doing my ‘something’ through Global Care. This trip has shown me that whatever the circumstances – and Lebanon couldn’t be more different from Uganda - Global Care works with dedicated, committed partners to support the most vulnerable communities.  I know this, because I’ve seen it, and in the last few days I’ve met people whose lives have been given unexpected hope through the work of Global Care.

For more information about the Global Care project in Lebanon see: Global Care: Lebanon  

Happiness is...

Today we went over the mountain to the Bekaa Valley again – but this time for a meeting with Global Care local partner staff.  I spoke at Junior assembly at our host school, just outside Beirut, before we left. We’ve been thinking about Joseph (of the ‘technicolour dreamcoat’) over the last two mornings.  We thought about people walking a long way to a foreign land when they didn’t really want to leave their homes, how we feel when bad things happen to us...  and what makes us happy.

Over the last two days I’ve met some fantastic teachers and local NGO workers. I’ve seen them in action, educating and caring for children who are a very long way from home – they’ve left a bad situation, and many are in a bad situation now.  And what makes the teachers happy? Seeing illiterate children learn to read and write, watching a child from their tented roadside ‘shack school’ attend government school because they have reached sufficient educational standard.

Today we listened to them talking about their aims, and how they can report back to Global Care UK, both for accountability, and to keep donors informed.  It was humbling and challenging to share their delight at describing a child who is able for the first time to string letters together to read a word, or a child who suddenly realises the world is being opened up through reading and writing.

There are a few standout stories from this whistlestop visit:

• The lady we met yesterday who told us the terrible story of her life in Aleppo 5 years ago, and now in Lebanon, and that recently her brother, his son and their neighbours were killed in Syria in a bomb attack. She then proceeded to be thankful that she is alive and at the shack school her children have a chance of an education
• The lady who welcomed 11 of us into her tented home, and made us coffee in her immaculate ‘main room’, furnished only with UNHCR plastic, mattresses and cushions – and a stove
• The little boy who was really too young to go to the shack school – but the teachers recognised his potential and now at 5 he can read and write - unlike his parents
• The girl who goes shopping with her mother so she can read the names of the spices for her
• The boy who went to the doctor with his father so he could read signs and his father could get to his appointment
• A family whose children missed 4 years of school in Syria – but are now at the shack school and catching up their peers

• The fantastic couple who have been Tom and my hosts.  Their commitment to caring for those who are in vulnerable situations.
• The man who once fought the Syrians as a teenager in the militia, but now travels to Syria taking humanitarian aid
• The local partners whose aim is to provide education and love to children who had no hope, and help them believe in hope again.

The small parts of this country that I have seen are beautiful. The food is amazing. The people are welcoming and generous. But – and here’s the rub – what makes me happy?

Is it having the opportunity to visit Global Care projects first hand? Is it working as a volunteer for GCare? Is it the food on this trip? Is it the challenges and questions the trips raise?

And whatever the answer to those questions, should it be ...
supporting this project, and knowing I'm supporting and encouraging the partners here, helping them achieve their aims of creating opportunities for traumatised and desperate children to become a generation of literate and numerate people, who can help to rebuild their nation - when they get the chance to return home?

For more information about the project, go to: https://www.globalcare.org/projects/20

In the Valley of Broken Dreams

I tried not to have any preconceptions about Lebanon – it’s just as well! After one day, my main sense is of a country of contrasts. There are beautiful snow topped mountains, huge conurbations, check-points between areas of concrete jungles, and cosmopolitan shops and restaurants (like McDonalds, Starbuck’s and Pizza Hut). There are fertile valleys and barren hillsides; abandoned tourist areas, and multiple construction sites.
The people however, are universally welcoming and hospitable. Our hosts are fabulous, making sure we are well cared for all the time.

We started our day at a private school – Tom and I both leading assemblies. Tom the seniors (including the 3 children of our hosts who tell me he was good) and I was very lucky and spoke to the Juniors. Bring out the puppets….  I spent time with the lovely Head of the Junior School (more tea and cake) and we chatted about the facilities they have for children with special needs - exceptional.

Our party of 8 left the school in 2 cars to travel over the mountains to the Bekaa Valley.  Climbing higher and higher away from the city, we were awed by the spectacular view. High snowy mountain ranges were breath-taking over the top. Down below we could see fruit tree terraces and tiny villages clutching the hillside.

We entered the Bekaa Valley, passed through Kahle and turned right, down a rough potted road, catching glimpses of refugee camps in the distance and through the trees. Then we started seeing clothes hung from barbed wire, and a larger area of white tents, with tiny passages between the homes. Children peered out as they played at the roadside. We had arrived at the first Shack School Global Care supports.  We briefly visited the school, chatting to staff and pupils, amazed at the high standard of pictures and writing in this tent by the roadside.

Then we travelled further into an area dotted with camps, and arrived at the ‘new’ school being supported by Global Care. The children (all Syrian refugeess) were playing outside, laughing and shouting, so we spent time meeting the staff and finding out about the school.  Then it was my favourite time – playing with the children. Out came the parachute, and half an hour later, dusty, hot and tired, we packed it up when they had begun to get carried away. In other words, I lost my translator and at the same time, control…

As well as spending time at the school, we visited a couple of homes. My fourth head-teacher of the day was a major contrast with the other three. We entered his home, a two-roomed tent, where he, his wife, and their 4 children live. He left Raqqa in 2014 when it became too difficult to live there. I can’t tell you why... 1 married daughter lives in Lebanon, 1 in Turkey, and he left another girl studying in Homs in Syria.  2 children go to the Global Care shack school, a third was at school but she became sick and died. 2 of the children have jobs as metal-workers – the family’s only source of income.  

We sat in their home on their mattresses spread around the floor. There was a carpet in the middle, and a stove.  They gave us coffee. They looked worn and sad. But they welcomed these strangers into their home and told us their story.

We left – ate more food, and are going out later for a meal.

I am shocked and saddened once again. It’s easy to forget about Syria and its people. It’s easy to pretend they don’t need our help. They need help from someone. These parents are so grateful that their children can have the opportunity for an education. And hope that one day they can return to Syria and help to re-build their country.

No more pencils no more books, No more teacher's dirty looks

Alice Cooper, the 1970’s, my teenage years. My rebellion - hanging out with local ‘bike boys’, going to a youth club in town (Dad lurking outside in the car to take me home), gate-crashing student discos. My parents waiting up if we were walked home by, heaven forbid, a boy. 

On reflection, we had lots of freedom, and loving care. I know my parents wanted the best for me, looked out for me. I was encouraged to look to the future, think about what I wanted to do long-term, become independent. I had a teacher who thought girls shouldn’t do A’Level Maths - my parents paid for a maths tutor when it was clear I wasn’t going to pass. And guess what? I got a ‘B’. Thanks Mum and Dad for not giving up on me.

Imagine you’re a child who can’t go to school. You live under constant attack in a war-torn city.  You manage to escape, via a hazardous and scary journey, to a neighbouring country.  Still no school. No education. You’re growing up in an environment where you feel everyone has given up on you. No-one wants you – you have to live in an unregistered tented settlement with limited basic facilities and rights…. like water, food, sanitation, healthcare, education, safety and security.

You and your family are illiterate and innumerate. Your parents have limited access to daily work because they are unregistered refugees with no employment rights. Is it any surprise that if there’s any work for children you’re sent out to help family finances? What’s the point in education? Its even harder if you're a woman or girl.. less freedom, less work, less education.

What do I know? Only what I read online. The media seems to have forgotten the 1.5 million Syrian refuges living in Lebanon (not to mention 30,000 Palestine refugees from Syria). Lebanon has over 500,000 Syrian refugee children, and up to 70% are not in school. 70% of Syrian refugees in Lebanon live below the poverty line. What can Lebanon do? The Lebanese are remarkably resilient, but they have to live with extra pressure on jobs, schools and healthcare. If you want to know more, try the UN factsheets.

Amazingly, I’ve got the opportunity to see first-hand how Global Care helps Syrian refugee children in Lebanon access education. Working with local partners, GC supports 100 refugee children at an informal 'shack school' in a roadside settlement. Providing basic education to these children increases their potential to either access formal schools or go on to vocational training. They know someone cares about them.  They know there are people who believe they have a future and that one day they may be able to contribute to the rebuilding of Syria.

That’s the theory. Next Tuesday all being well, I’ll meet some of these children. I’ll see what their lives are like, how different from my childhood. I never expected to be travelling to the Bekaa Valley, in eastern Lebanon, but I can’t wait to meet the local partners and visit the school. And yes, there is a little spark of anxiety – but I trust GC and know they’ll look after us!

I’ll try and blog when I’m there, schedule permitting. We arrive Monday evening and leave Thursday morning. There’s more about GC work in Lebanon, on their website