The 'Forgotten' Camps Where Syria War Displaced Languish

Girls stand next to a tent at the Al-Yunani makeshift camp in Syria's northern province of Raqa
Girls stand next to a tent at the Al-Yunani makeshift camp in Syria's northern province of Raqa
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The 'Forgotten' Camps Where Syria War Displaced Languish

Girls stand next to a tent at the Al-Yunani makeshift camp in Syria's northern province of Raqa
Girls stand next to a tent at the Al-Yunani makeshift camp in Syria's northern province of Raqa

Thousands of people displaced by 12 years of war are stuck in squalid, unofficial camps in Syria's Kurdish-held northeast, languishing in extreme poverty and largely cut off from international assistance.

"We've been completely forgotten," said Rahma al-Hammud, 33, standing at her tent -- a shoddy patchwork of worn-out fabric, tarp and old fertiliser bags crudely sewn together.

"Our children get sick over and over again. They get fever, diarrhoea and vomiting," said the widowed mother of four, AFP reported.

She lives in the Al-Yunani camp in the northern province of Raqa, where ISIS group had set up its de facto capital before its defeat in 2017 by US-backed Kurdish-led fighters.

Located near the Euphrates River, it is one of many informal camps inside Syria for people displaced by the conflict.

Women can be seen carrying heavy buckets of water from communal tanks in heat that can exceed 40 degrees Celsius (104 Fahrenheit), while children in filthy clothes and bare feet play in the dirt.

Sheikhmous Ahmed, an official in the semi-autonomous Kurdish administration, said tens of thousands of people live in dozens of informal camps in north and northeast Syria.

Only 16 camps, housing around 150,000 people, are formally recognized and have access to international aid, including Al-Hol and Roj, which host suspected relatives of ISIS militants, he said.

While living and hygiene conditions can be dire even in official displacement camps, the situation in informal settlements is sometimes worse, with no semblance of organization and little or no humanitarian assistance.

Tanya Evans of the International Rescue Committee said such informal camps "can be considered the 'forgotten camps' of Syria".

"Increased attention, funding, and sustained efforts by the international community are crucial" to ensuring such camps "receive the assistance they desperately need", she told AFP in a statement.

Hammud, who is displaced from elsewhere in Raqa province, said aid was "scarce" and that international organizations "do not recognize" the Al-Yunani camp.

"Even if they helped us every two or three months, people would have" better lives, said Hammud, a day labourer in the agriculture sector.

Three of her children also work in an industrial area nearby to help make ends meet.

Syria's war has killed more than half a million people and displaced millions since it broke out in 2011 with the regime's repression of peaceful protests.

It spiralled into a deadly conflict that pulled in foreign powers and global militants.

According to Sheikhmous Ahmed, Kurdish authorities are working "on a plan to transfer residents from informal to formal camps" in a bid to improve their living conditions.

If this were to come true it could improve the life of residents of Sahlat al-Banat, a makeshift camp which sits next to a landfill on the outskirts of Raqa city.

Residents spend their days scavenging the rubbish tip for anything of value, such as scrap metal and bits of plastic, which they hope to sell. It is their main source of income.

"The situation in the camp is tragic," said 30-year-old mother Shakura Mohammed, who was displaced from nearby Deir Ezzor province.

"People search through the rubbish for things they can sell in order to buy bread and earn a living," she said.

"No aid comes to the camp," she added.

According to a report by the United Nations humanitarian agency OCHA, 79 percent of settlements in Raqa province are informal.

A UN cross-border mechanism allowing aid to enter northeast Syria from neighbouring Iraq was halted in early 2020 after pressure from regime ally Russia at the UN Security Council, worsening conditions for those in need.

Umm Rakan, who lives at Sahlat al-Banat, said she had given up on the idea that things would improve.

"We no longer count on anyone's help. We lost hope years ago," said the woman in her 40s, who was also displaced from Deir Ezzor.

"We are destined to live trapped in this hell forever."



'We Don't Want to Die Here': Sierra Leone Migrants Trapped in Lebanon

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
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'We Don't Want to Die Here': Sierra Leone Migrants Trapped in Lebanon

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP
Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon -AFP

When an Israeli airstrike killed her employer and destroyed nearly everything she owned in southern Lebanon, it also crushed Fatima Samuella Tholley's hopes of returning home to Sierra Leone to escape the war.

With a change of clothes stuffed into a plastic bag, the 27-year-old housekeeper told AFP that she and her cousin made their way to the capital Beirut in an ambulance.

Bewildered and terrified, the pair were thrust into the chaos of the bombarded city -- unfamiliar to them apart from the airport where they had arrived months before.

"We don't know today if we will live or not, only God knows," Fatima told AFP via video call, breaking down in tears.
"I have nothing... no passport, no documents," she said.

The cousins have spent days sheltering in the cramped storage room of an empty apartment, which they said was offered to them by a man they had met on their journey.

With no access to TV news and unable to communicate in French or Arabic, they could only watch from their window as the city was pounded by strikes.

The Israeli war on Lebanon since mid-September has killed more than 1,000 people and forced hundreds of thousands more to flee their homes, amid Israeli bombards around the country.

The situation for the country's migrant workers is particularly precarious, as their legal status is often tied to their employer under the "kafala" sponsorship system governing foreign labor.

"When we came here, our madams received our passports, they seized everything until we finished our contract" said 29-year-old Mariatu Musa Tholley, who also works as a housekeeper.

"Now [the bombing] burned everything, even our madams... only we survived".

- 'They left me' -

Sierra Leone is working to establish how many of its citizens are currently in Lebanon, with the aim of providing emergency travel certificates to those without passports, Kai S. Brima from the foreign affairs ministry told AFP.

The poor west African country has a significant Lebanese community dating back over a century, which is heavily involved in business and trade.

Scores of migrants travel to Lebanon every year, with the aim of paying remittances to support families back home.

"We don't know anything, any information", Mariatu said.

"[Our neighbours] don't open the door for us because they know we are black", she wept.

"We don't want to die here".

Fatima and Mariatu said they had each earned $150 per month, working from 6:00 am until midnight seven days a week.

They said they were rarely allowed out of the house.

AFP contacted four other Sierra Leonean domestic workers by phone, all of whom recounted similar situations of helplessness in Beirut.

Patricia Antwin, 27, came to Lebanon as a housekeeper to support her family in December 2021.

She said she fled her first employer after suffering sexual harassment, leaving her passport behind.

When an airstrike hit the home of her second employer in a southern village, Patricia was left stranded.

"The people I work for, they left me, they left me and went away," she told AFP.

Patricia said a passing driver saw her crying in the street and offered to take her to Beirut.

Like Fatima and Mariatu, she has no money or formal documentation.

"I only came with two clothes in my plastic bag", she said.

- Sleeping on the streets -

Patricia initially slept on the floor of a friend's apartment, but moved to Beirut's waterfront after strikes in the area intensified.

She later found shelter at a Christian school in Jounieh, some 20 kilometres (12 miles) north of the capital.

"We are seeing people moving from one place to another", she said.

"I don't want to lose my life here," she added, explaining she had a child back in Sierra Leone.

Housekeeper Kadij Koroma said she had been sleeping on the streets for almost a week after fleeing to Beirut when she was separated from her employer.

"We don't have a place to sleep, we don't have food, we don't have water," she said, adding that she relied on passers by to provide bread or small change for sustenance.

Kadij said she wasn't sure if her employer was still alive, or if her friends who had also travelled from Sierra Leone to work in Lebanon had survived the bombardment.

"You don't know where to go," she said, "everywhere you go, bomb, everywhere you go, bomb".