300,000
Children Who Want
To Go Home
By Anne Penketh &
Kim Sengupta
04 August 2006
The
Independent
"I
don't want to die. I want to go to school," says Jamal, a four-year-old
Lebanese boy scarred by the Israeli bombing of his country. Home for
Jamal is now a "displacement centre" in the southern town
of Jezzine, where his family fled in fear for their lives.
"We've had our picnic,
and we want to go home now," says another child,staying in a makeshift
refugee camp in the Sanayeh public gardens in Beirut. "We are bored
and afraid and we want to go home," says another.
These are the voices of the
dispossessed of Lebanon, the hundreds of thousands of children whose
world was changed forever in the seconds that followed the explosion
of a bomb. "Mummy, what is a massacre?" another child asks.
About 300,000 Lebanese children
have been displaced by Israel's three-week war against Hizbollah - a
third of the number of people who have abandoned their homes. In many
cases they were ordered out by Israeli army leaflets. They are living
in open-air camps, like the one in the Beirut park, or in schools, where
many sought refuge. Many children have been housed with host families
- in the port of Sidon, 48km (30 miles) south of the capital, 40 per
cent of the 22,700 children in temporary accommodation are doing so.
The rest are in displacement centres.
Ribka Amsale, an aid worker
with Save the Children, visited a school in Sidon yesterday. Children
were playing football as their mothers cheered them on. The children
seemed cheerful enough, but the stress and trauma are already etched
in their psyches.
"Many are undergoing
enormous stress in this situation," said Save the Children's Deborah
Haines in Sidon. "Although some are out playing, there are issues
of safety and security. Many are at a loose end, as their toys and games
have been left behind. Their parents haven't got the time or the patience
to set things up for the children."
Many of the displaced children
are behaving aggressively, getting into fights, in a sign of the underlying
pressure that also manifests itself through crying, bed-wetting and
bad dreams.
Children placed with host
families are not necessarily better off than those in the centres, says
Ms Haines. "There are tensions, they have to get used to living
with strangers."
Save the Children, which
has launched a humanitarian appeal jointly with The Independent, is
working with the Lebanese education and social affairs ministries, local
non-government partners, and donor countries to assess urgent needs.
Save the Children had received 300 telephone calls by yesterday afternoon,
pledging an average of £100 a time, thanks toThe Independent's
Lebanon appeal, which was launched on Wednesday.
Rania al-Ameri, a Lebanese
child psychologist working with young internally displaced people, said:
"They desperately need help because they are the ones who are suffering
the most. Many children have lost members of their families as well
as their homes. They are severely traumatised."
There have been discussions
on creating safe places for children to play in. It sounds straightforward,
and is relatively easy to organise in the camps, where children can
be supervised. But for the displaced living with families, the natural
caution of mothers must be overcome by house visits.
Schools have become the displacement
centres of choice because of the holidays, which run until 15 September
in Lebanon. But the water is of poor quality, the showers - if there
are any - are overcrowded, and the lavatories reek of sewage.
In addition to basic necessities
such as mattresses, the children need fresh fruit and vegetables for
a balanced diet. But "in some of the camps in Tyre, the displaced
people need food full stop," said the aid worker Jeremie Bodin
of Save the Children. "The stress means that women are no longer
breast-feeding, so we need [an] infant-feeding formula, and we need
nappies because the children haven't been changed for days." Emerging
from his basement, where he has spent the past three weeks, Ali, nine,
said: "My father and mother went with my other brothers and sisters
to another town. They said they will come and get me when the bombs
stop." After another nearby explosion, he said: "Why are the
Israelis hitting us? Do they hate us? My cousin told me nuclear bombs
are really big. Are they as big as these rockets?"
"I don't want to die.
I want to go to school," says Jamal, a four-year-old Lebanese boy
scarred by the Israeli bombing of his country. Home for Jamal is now
a "displacement centre" in the southern town of Jezzine, where
his family fled in fear for their lives.
"We've had our picnic,
and we want to go home now," says another child,staying in a makeshift
refugee camp in the Sanayeh public gardens in Beirut. "We are bored
and afraid and we want to go home," says another.
These are the voices of the
dispossessed of Lebanon, the hundreds of thousands of children whose
world was changed forever in the seconds that followed the explosion
of a bomb. "Mummy, what is a massacre?" another child asks.
About 300,000 Lebanese children
have been displaced by Israel's three-week war against Hizbollah - a
third of the number of people who have abandoned their homes. In many
cases they were ordered out by Israeli army leaflets. They are living
in open-air camps, like the one in the Beirut park, or in schools, where
many sought refuge. Many children have been housed with host families
- in the port of Sidon, 48km (30 miles) south of the capital, 40 per
cent of the 22,700 children in temporary accommodation are doing so.
The rest are in displacement centres.
Ribka Amsale, an aid worker
with Save the Children, visited a school in Sidon yesterday. Children
were playing football as their mothers cheered them on. The children
seemed cheerful enough, but the stress and trauma are already etched
in their psyches.
"Many are undergoing
enormous stress in this situation," said Save the Children's Deborah
Haines in Sidon. "Although some are out playing, there are issues
of safety and security. Many are at a loose end, as their toys and games
have been left behind. Their parents haven't got the time or the patience
to set things up for the children."
Many of the displaced children
are behaving aggressively, getting into fights, in a sign of the underlying
pressure that also manifests itself through crying, bed-wetting and
bad dreams.
Children placed with host
families are not necessarily better off than those in the centres, says
Ms Haines. "There are tensions, they have to get used to living
with strangers."
Save the Children, which has launched a humanitarian appeal jointly
with The Independent, is working with the Lebanese education and social
affairs ministries, local non-government partners, and donor countries
to assess urgent needs. Save the Children had received 300 telephone
calls by yesterday afternoon, pledging an average of £100 a time,
thanks toThe Independent's Lebanon appeal, which was launched on Wednesday.
Rania al-Ameri, a Lebanese
child psychologist working with young internally displaced people, said:
"They desperately need help because they are the ones who are suffering
the most. Many children have lost members of their families as well
as their homes. They are severely traumatised."
There have been discussions
on creating safe places for children to play in. It sounds straightforward,
and is relatively easy to organise in the camps, where children can
be supervised. But for the displaced living with families, the natural
caution of mothers must be overcome by house visits.
Schools have become the displacement
centres of choice because of the holidays, which run until 15 September
in Lebanon. But the water is of poor quality, the showers - if there
are any - are overcrowded, and the lavatories reek of sewage.
In addition to basic necessities
such as mattresses, the children need fresh fruit and vegetables for
a balanced diet. But "in some of the camps in Tyre, the displaced
people need food full stop," said the aid worker Jeremie Bodin
of Save the Children. "The stress means that women are no longer
breast-feeding, so we need [an] infant-feeding formula, and we need
nappies because the children haven't been changed for days." Emerging
from his basement, where he has spent the past three weeks, Ali, nine,
said: "My father and mother went with my other brothers and sisters
to another town. They said they will come and get me when the bombs
stop." After another nearby explosion, he said: "Why are the
Israelis hitting us? Do they hate us? My cousin told me nuclear bombs
are really big. Are they as big as these rockets?"
© 2006 Independent News and Media Limited