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