Mobile Pools Offer Relief from Heat to Children in North Syria

Displaced Syrian children play in a mobile swimming pool set up by the Smile Younited charity organization, during the sweltering summer heat in the Kafr Naseh camp on July 27, 2024. (Photo by AAREF WATAD / AFP)
Displaced Syrian children play in a mobile swimming pool set up by the Smile Younited charity organization, during the sweltering summer heat in the Kafr Naseh camp on July 27, 2024. (Photo by AAREF WATAD / AFP)
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Mobile Pools Offer Relief from Heat to Children in North Syria

Displaced Syrian children play in a mobile swimming pool set up by the Smile Younited charity organization, during the sweltering summer heat in the Kafr Naseh camp on July 27, 2024. (Photo by AAREF WATAD / AFP)
Displaced Syrian children play in a mobile swimming pool set up by the Smile Younited charity organization, during the sweltering summer heat in the Kafr Naseh camp on July 27, 2024. (Photo by AAREF WATAD / AFP)

In a run-down north Syria camp, children displaced by the country's 13-year war played and splashed in volunteer-run mobile swimming pools that provided much-needed relief from the sweltering summer heat.

Volunteers from the Smile Younited charity barely had any time to finish setting up the three pools in a busy square surrounded by tents before children of all ages jumped in, dancing along to songs blasted on loudspeakers.

The pools at Kafr Naseh camp, in the Aleppo countryside, provided rare entertainment to young boys and girls whose lives have been scarred by war and poverty.

Mohammad Ezzedine, 38, said he was thrilled to see his five children so happy.

"I hope they will come back every week... because it's hot and the kids need to distract themselves and have fun" because "they live under pressure inside a confined camp," AFP quoted him as saying.

The children "had never been to a pool before. The most we could do was put them in a plastic tub and fill it with water" when it is available to cool down in the summer, Ezzedine added.

More than five million people, most of them displaced, live in areas outside government control in Syria's north and northwest, the UN says, and many rely on aid to survive.

As the conflict drags on, a lack of international funding has severely undercut the provision of basic services including water, waste disposal and sanitation in displacement camps outside government control in Syria's north and northwest.

Residents of Kafr Naseh camp say they have not had access to free, clean water in a year and a half.

"The old and the young want water because it is a lifeline... The camps are thirsty," said 65-year-old Habiba Hamdush, who has been living in the camp for six years.

Children in the camp "are deprived of everything... Some of them have never seen a pool before and don't even know how to swim," she said.

But now, they can "enjoy the pools, which are a source of happiness and relief from the heat," she said as she watched 15 of her grandchildren splash about.

Many of them were very young when her family was displaced from neighboring Idlib province and "grew up in the camp thirsty, hungry, living in tents and exposed to the sun," she said.



With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
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With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher

When a ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah came into effect last week, Lebanese hotelier Abbas al-Tannoukhi leapt at the chance to bury a dead relative in their southern hometown of Khiyam, battered for weeks by intense clashes.

Tannoukhi's cousin had been killed in one of the final Israeli airstrikes on Beirut's suburbs before Wednesday's ceasefire, which stipulated an end to fighting so residents on both sides of the border could return home.

But with Israeli troops still deployed in southern Lebanon, Tannoukhi coordinated his movements with Lebanon's army. Last Friday, he and his relatives pulled into the family graveyard in Khiyam, six km (four miles) from the border, with an ambulance carrying his cousin's body.

"We just needed 30 minutes (to bury her)," Tannoukhi, 54, said. "But we were surprised when Israeli tanks encircled us - and that's when the gunfire started."

Tannoukhi fled with his relatives on foot through the brush, wounding his hand as he scrambled between rocks and olive groves to reach safety at a checkpoint operated by Lebanese troops.

Soon afterwards, they tried to reach the graveyard again but said they were fired on a second time. Shaky footage filmed by Tannoukhi features sprays of gunfire.

"We couldn't bury her. We had to leave her body there in the ambulance. But we will try again," he told Reuters.

The ordeal highlights the bitterness and confusion for residents of southern Lebanon who have been unable to return home because Israeli troops are still present on Lebanese territory.

Israel's military has issued orders to residents of 60 southern Lebanese towns not to return home, saying they are prohibited from accessing their hometowns until further notice.

The US-brokered ceasefire deal grants both Lebanon and Israel the right to self-defense, but does not include provisions on a buffer zone or restrictions for residents.

"Why did we go back? Because there's a ceasefire," Tannoukhi said. "It's a halt to hostilities. And it is a natural right for a son of the south to go to his house."

The Israeli military did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

PEACE OF MIND

The ceasefire brought an end to over a year of hostilities between Israel and Lebanese armed group Hezbollah, which began firing rockets at Israeli military targets in 2023 in support of its Palestinian ally Hamas in Gaza.

Israel went on the offensive in September, bombing swathes of Lebanon's south, east and the southern suburbs of Beirut. More than 1.2 million people fled their homes.

After the 60-day ceasefire came into effect last Wednesday, residents of Beirut's suburbs returned home to vast destruction, and some Lebanese from the south were able to return to homes further away from the border.

But both sides began accusing each other of breaking the deal, with Israel saying suspicious movements in villages along the south constituted violations and Lebanon's army pointing to Israeli tank fire and airstrikes as breaches.

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, a father of 12, was hoping to return home to Beit Lif, about two km from the border.

But nearly a week into the ceasefire, he is still living at a displacement shelter near Tyre, a coastal city about 25 km from the border.

He tried to venture home alone last week, but as soon as he arrived, there was tank fire around the town and he received a warning on his phone that his town was in the Israeli military's "no-go" zone.

Sayyed is still stuck in displacement and wants to get home.

"I hope we go back to our town so we can get peace of mind," he said.