Beyond
the loss of a loved one, there may be nothing more tragic than the loss of a
family home. Never before, have I read
so many news headlines about people losing their homes to war and violence. In many parts of the world, children are
growing up in massive refugee camps, where host countries don’t exactly make
them feel welcome. According to
The New York Times Magazine, 11/8/15, there are approximately 30 million children who have been displaced by war—“longing for home, or too terrified to think of home, or trying to forget home and settle somewhere new.”
More of these children are fleeing Syria
than any other country, comprising at least half of the 4,000,000 Syrians who
have emigrated since the war began in 2011. There are also plenty of displaced
families from the Ukraine, Africa and other nations. To make matters worse,
countries like Lebanon, Turkey and Jordan have tightened their borders. Hungary
even built a wall with barbed wire. The
result? More and more Syrians are
falling prey to human traffickers, or fleeing overseas in rickety boats and
scrambling over land on long, exhausting treks, desperately attempting the
treacherous trip to Western Europe. Drowning babies washing ashore off the
island of Lesbos are no longer front page news.
However overwhelming the horror of these deaths and displacements, the
blood curdling reports eventually become mind-numbing, repetitious even—until you
read about the plight of individual children.
I applaud the New York Times for featuring the stories of three displaced
children in “a multimedia journey in text, photographs and a virtual-reality
film,” in their Sunday magazine. First,
we meet Hana, age 12, a Syrian refugee who has “lived one quarter of her life
in a debilitating state of suspension in Lebanon” in a tent. She spends her
days—which begin at 4:45 am—picking almonds, plums, and cucumbers (depending on
the season) in blistering heat to help support her family. As much as Hana and
her cousin long to go home to Syria, they no longer ask why that’s not possible. Better to be yelled at and cursed by farm
supervisors than to have their heads cut off.
Next we meet Oleg, 11, living in
the wreckage of his home in Nikishino, in the separatist area of Eastern
Ukraine. He and his family fled during
the fighting in 2014 and returned after a cease-fire to find their village
destroyed and his school reduced to rubble.
Sadder still was the discovery of Oleg’s grandfather, dead and frozen in
his own backyard, probably lying there undiscovered for months. “Before the
war, I visited him every day,” Oleg said. “Now I visit his grave.” Yet Oleg is—absurdly—“luckier” than many
other members of displaced families. He lives with his parents in the portion
of his home where the walls still stand, and he attends school in a neighboring
village. His father was able to go back to work as a coal miner and slowly earn
money toward rebuilding their home. According
to the Times, about 3.2 million
people (including Oleg and his family) now live amid shattered glass, crumbled
concrete, and burnt wood, in desperate need of humanitarian relief.
Last and perhaps most heart-rending
of all the Times’ stories is the
portrait of Chuol, now 9, from South Sudan. Two years ago, civil war reached
Chuol’s village, bringing unimaginable atrocities. Chuol remembers all the horrifying details of
men being murdered and women being raped. His father and grandfather were herded
into a small hut and burned alive. Chuol’s grandmother described to the Times reporter how a group of fighters
argued about who would rape a 12-year-old girl. Unable to agree, they shot her
dead.
Chuol, his mother and grandmother,
managed to escape that horror only to arrive in a new nightmare in the swamps. “When I was
holding onto a reed in the water, my feet not able to touch the ground, I would
think I could die at any time if a crocodile came and got me,” Chuol recounted.
“When we would find land at night, I would think about all the bad things that
happened that day.” Not only did this little boy wade through snake infested
waters, dodging crocodiles and eating mostly grass, he also worried about his
mother, who had run away in a different direction. For months, Chuol did not
know if his mother was dead or alive, although Unicef has received reports that
she was seen alive in the country. Eventually, Chuol and his grandmother
reached a tiny island (unnamed out of the Times concern for their safety) and then
moved onto another camp in Kenya to join relatives. Chuol’s grandmother plans
to go back to South Sudan to look for her daughter. As for Chuol, his dreams
have not yet died. “If I grow up and leave this place,” he said, “maybe I can
still become a doctor.”
I hope the amazing strength and
resilience of these three displaced children—and the millions of others whose stories remain untold—enable their dreams
to survive along with their bodies. At
the very least, these children and their families all deserve what many Americans
take for granted: home sweet home in a country where they feel safe. Despite
the wonderful photos, well-written text and cardboard contraptions delivered by
The New York Times for the purpose of
gaining a deeper understanding of this global disaster, newspaper profiles will
not bring a halt to the violence or help these kids and their families find
homes, rebuild their identities and create new and better memories. (Assembling the cardboard contraption in pursuit
of “a virtual reality film” was beyond my expertise and patience on a Sunday
while drinking my morning coffee, and I suspect other Times readers felt the same).
What I’m hoping now is that there
are screenwriters, producers and film makers out in the world who read last
Sunday’s Times and thought: “Wow! What a
GREAT idea for a movie (or even) television!” Might not Hollywood cast some of these
displaced people in films or on TV, or at least PAY them for their stories? Look
at the success of a TV series like Homeland
or movies like Schindler’s List. Let’s
have the entertainment industry bring these brave survivors into our living
rooms, movie theaters, and computer screens, enabling them to rebuild their family
nests (along with a nest egg for education). Over time, with artful, provocative filming, minds and hearts might be won over. Steven Spielberg and Martin Scorsese, are you listening?
Labels: Africa, children, civil war, displaced families, homes, Hungary, Lebanon, Lesbos, Marty Scorcese, migrants, movies, rape, refugees, Steven Spielberg, Sudan, Syria, Turkey Jordan, Ukraine, USA