Beyond Your Door Step: Orphaned by War

A Syrian orphan in class at Baraem Al-Shouhada Orphanage School

Antakya, Turkey - The mission of the Baraem Al-Shouhada Orphanage School is to provide a safe, nurturing learning environment for Syrian refugee children whose parents have been killed in the Syrian civil war. Nestled in an urban residential community, and situated on a small plot of land wedged between two neighboring houses, this modest, brightly-colored three-story school is fitted with narrow hallways and small, stuffy rooms, crammed with 220 plus students. As the sound of the afternoon call to prayer falls away, the residential street fills with the noises of children at play. Children proceeding between classes form a line by placing their hands on the shoulders of the child in front of them, giggling as they snake their way down the staircases toward their next classroom. The youngest of the children are allotted more free play time with their teachers in the back section of the school, while groups of elementary-aged students are rotated outside for recess and exercise.

Children proceeding to their next class

Each child attending the Baraem Al-Shouhada Orphanage School is exactly what the establishment's name suggests: an orphan. Every child has lived through the terrors of the Syrian civil war, has had their family violently taken from them, and is now left to face their own ordeals. "Every child here has trauma," an Arabic language teacher told me. "We do the best we can to comfort them, but you can see memories of the war on the each of their faces." Some of the children lost their fathers in combat—those who picked up a gun to fight in the revolution against the Assad regime—but most lost their families during the endless bombing campaigns around the country. This is the case for 12-year old Hassan, a Syrian boy who took refuge with his family in an underground shelter. After getting his family to relative safety, Hassan's father ran back into the streets to help others find cover, and to aid those who had been wounded in the bombardment. Then another round of shelling fell, and Hassan's father never returned. When the dust settled, and people ventured out from their hiding places and back into the streets, it was Hassan who recognized his father's body, and who dug him out from the rubble with his own hands.

A Syrian girl anticipating recess

This is but one of more than 200 stories carried by the school’s orphaned children. All across Turkey, Jordan, Lebanon, and inside Syria itself, thousands of these stories will continue to go untold. Although these children have survived through the violence physically unharmed, their wounds are deep, and their traumas are clearly visible. Students occasionally break down in tears, crying uncontrollably for their deceased parents, and an entire class of children will instinctively cower under their desks for fear of bombing when the sound of an airplane is heard overhead. "Every child needs our help," the program coordinator for the school explained to me. "We try to provide them with psychologists to talk about their problems, give them games to be happy, or read from the Quran to help them relax. We don't have much money. Like other Syrian schools, we have been working for over two years without being able to pay our 25 teachers. But we cannot leave these children. If we [teachers] cannot afford to buy shoes, then we will teach barefoot, and hope that God will provide for us. We must look to the future, not the past. Too many children have suffered, and we must look to find a way to make their lives better."

A girl in studying during her Arabic language course

Leaving Baraem Al-Shouhada, the school principal thanked me for coming to be with them. Looking back at a class making art with their teacher, at the child in the far corner sobbing uncontrollably for his family, and at the children congregated to say goodbye, I asked the principal if there was anything he wanted me to tell the outside world. Placing one hand on my shoulder, he replied, "The world needs to see how we live. Most people are good, but before they will want to help us, they must understand our lives. Tell them. Put them in our shoes. How would they feel if their father was taken from them, if their mother was killed, if there was no future for their child? What would they think then? What would they want the world to do?"