At dawn they despaired

What if we had not rushed to that open field in Jamam as the cloud darkened the sky? The  atmosphere of that UNHCR tent... the rain pouring outside, refugees too tired and hungry to speak, 19 uncomplaining children, mostly toddlers...

Later I remarked about the emotion to a colleague. He said to me, Terrie, those were just 35 refugees. Usually there are several hundred or several thousand. In May we had 32,000 arrive in one go! 

This evokes an entirely different scenario.

I documented the events and my musings on three Facebook albums:
(1) At dawn they despaired
(2) By dusk hope restored
(3) What if... there was nothing for the refugees?

* * *

Huddled inside this UNHCR tent with 35 refugees
we had just rescued from a field, the torment
these 9 women, 7 men and 19 children had endured during
the uncertain journey that brought them to Jamam was
almost palpable. Outside it was pouring with rain.
They were mostly silent. Small children were hidden
in the folds of their mothers' clothes.
  [Photo: UNHCR/T.Ongaro].

At the small (300-capacity) UNHCR transit centre in Jamam I came to witness the anguish of refugees who, having abandoned themselves to an unknown fate, were visibly wearied by the experience of long walks to an uncertain destination and of sleeping out in the open without proper food or clean water. 

That journey was not for the faint-hearted. Those who were afraid had put aside their fears. Literally there was no choice, only the knowledge that others had gone before them and the faith that it could be done.

For refugees who walk the 70km distance from the border to Jamam, the UNHCR transit centre is where they get their first inkling that organized help is at hand.

I rode with the advance party as they went to organize the
convoy. In the car they discussed with section of Jamam
camp they would work on later in the day, informing
refugees how they should prepare for the relocation to
Gendrassa and telling them what they should expect.
[Photo: UNHCR/T.Ongaro]

Monday 27 August was a typical workday for UNHCR staff in Jamam. One team was headed to the larger (1,000 capacity) UNHCR transit centre, complete with tents, latrines and showers. Their first task that morning was to see off a convoy transporting several hundred refugees and their belongings to Gendrassa, the new camp that had been established almost 70km away. 

I jumped into the ambulance with the advance party. They were going to prepare the persons with special needs, mostly persons aged over sixty years as well as pregnant mothers or persons who were ill. 

When the team arrived with the bus, it was immediately
decided that the family would not leave. The bus was
despatched to join the convoy, the boy was immediately
rushed to the nearby hospital [Photo: UNHCR/T.Ongaro]

My colleagues dropped me off at the smaller way station. I had come to say goodbye to a family that arrived the previous day in the morning. They had spent the night there. They were going to Gendrassa to start a new life. They were having breakfast. However, I could see all was not well. One of the sons lay on the ground; the mother squatted next to him. He was not feeling well. He was feverish. His head hurt. The day before we had taken him and his younger brother to the hospital. They were both told to return if they did not feel better. 

As soon as my other colleagues arrived the young man was taken to the nearby hospital.

I was getting ready to return to the office when suddenly we were informed by radio that a group of over 30 refugees (referred to as "new arrivals" in UNHCR parlance) had been spotted in a nearby field. We turned around and headed for the intersection between the main road through Jamam and the 70km road to the border.  


Sure enough we spotted the refugees as we approached the junction. My colleagues Grace and Yasmeen went straight into action.

They told the women and children to get into the vehicle that had brought us, and radioed
for a second vehicle carry the men and the belongings which were scattered on the ground.

As the women and children scrambled into the vehicle, it started to rain.

The refugee women and children were visibly dazed, as the men gathered the belongings.

This coffee urn, passed on in the middle of the drama, evoked thoughts about precious belongings.
What would you cling on to if you had to leave?

View from inside the UNHCR tent.

The children... mostly toddlers. Everyone had spent many nights in the open,
the mothers warding off mosquitoes with their clothes.

Uncomplaining children. They just sat close to their mothers.

The boy's eye was swollen. Others who were not well had been taken to hospital.
No doubt relativizing his discomfort to the threats they had all faced,
his parents said it was ok... just an insect bite.

 This mother will have carried the youngest; the other two would have had to walk.

Hungry? Tired? Afraid? Most likely... all of the above.

His eyes is still swollen. Yet, he is silent.

The men arrive with the personal belongings.

Women's sticks to carry food and water, jerry cans; farming implements for the men.

 

Chicken

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Precious grinding stone.

Cold and wet, the men enter the tent.

Grace explains UNHCR's work as we wait for drinking water and
high energy biscuits to arrive.

The refugees are visibly exhausted.

It is pouring outside. They would have been drenched. 

 

The team arrives with high energy biscuits and water. The young lad must go to the hospital.

Outside the ground is a mess. No way to avoid the gluey mud.  

The young chap is hoisted into the air and taken to the waiting car.

Everyone perks up with the energy from the biscuits.