One night last spring, when bombs fell on her neighbors' house, Nahla Abdul-Raheem fled her own comfortable two-story home in Dara'a, Syria, with her husband and five children, the youngest daughter just 4 years old.
"Whenever we went to class there were bombs." Razan, a young Syrian woman, had always done well in school and prided herself on her good grades. But as she took an important test, she couldn't concentrate. "Bombs were going off right nearby during the exam session.
AMMAN (Nov. 15, 2013) — Ahead of International Children's Day on November 20, CARE voices our concern about Syrian refugee families becoming increasingly reliant on child labor to meet basic survival needs such as food and rent.
When 14-year-old Khaled left his home town Dara’a in the south of Syria nine months ago, life as he knew it ceased to exist. His family house was burnt down as were most of the buildings in his village.
About a year ago, Bader was an average 15-year-old boy. He attended the 10th grade of high school, met his friends after class to practice breakdancing, played tricks on people from time to time and wanted to become an English teacher.
Abdulwahad is standing behind the counter of a small shop in Mafraq. Socks, shoes, blankets and scarves are hanging on rusty hat stands. Hair ties, nail polish and pens are piled in little baskets made out of bast. Shampoos, perfumes, make-up and hair spray are stored on shelves.
To give Syrian refugees a louder voice amid a conflict whose political dimensions draw most of the world’s attention, American photographers Robert Fogarty and Ben Reece first gave them felt-tip markers. The refugees eagerly wrote messages to world leaders on their arms and hands.
Ali lies on the ground on a brown pillow with floral print. His eyes are open, but motionless. His skinny arms and legs feebly lie beside him, as if they were not part of his body. His mother Fawsa sits next to him, softly massaging his lower legs and caressing his head. Ali does not move.