Hada, Omar and Fatima in front of some of the vegetables which they spend all day packing and loading into a ute to be sold. They fled Syria three years ago. Photo / World Vision
Hada, Omar and Fatima in front of some of the vegetables which they spend all day packing and loading into a ute to be sold. They fled Syria three years ago. Photo / World Vision
We need you to help The Forgotten Millions. The Herald and World Vision are running a major campaign to raise funds and help the millions of children left homeless by war in Syria. With your help we can make a difference to the children and their families in desperate need throughout this region
World Vision's Dominica Leonard travelled with Rachel Smalley to the Middle East to meet Iraqi and Syrian refugees for our Forgotten Millions campaign. Here she tells the story of three young children who stole her heart in the midst of a refugee camp in Lebanon.
In the Bekka Valley of Lebanon, next to a farm, there's a field that's almost completely turned to mud. In that field are a row of makeshift tents where 12 Syrian families have been living for the past three years.
Not far away there is snow on the mountain range that acts as a border between Lebanon and Syria. In the foreground, there are rows upon rows of grape vines. Bekka Valley's wineries have a reputation for creating some of the best wine in the world, and the juxtaposition between such wealth with some of the poorest refugees I've ever met, is stark.
Two-thirds of the way down the row of tents three kids stand, packing onions and potatoes into sacks and loading them into a ute.
Fatima sits and packs onions and potatoes. She does this every day from dawn to dusk to earn money to help support her family. Photo / World Vision
Their names are Hada, Omar and Fatima and they're aged between nine and 12. The farmer who owns the land next to them is sympathetic to the plight of the Syrian refugees. After he harvests his fields with tractors, he allows the refugees to pick through the fields and collect the leftovers.
From there, it's up to Hada, Omar and Fatima to pack the vegetables into sacks and stack them into the ute, driven by an adult to sell on the side of the road for half of the price they would be in shops.
The children tell me that they don't like onions, but they think potatoes are ok. However they don't eat the vegetables they pack, instead they are sold so that the children have money to buy cheaper food such as flour for bread.
The work takes all day. It's just past 10.30am and half of the ute is already full. The children have been working since 7am and will continue until around 5pm - or sunset.
As they work there is an eerie silence, and I realise there isn't any child-like laughter, playing or singing coming from the kids. Hada, Omar and Fatima don't sing while they work. They tell me that it's been so long since they sung that they've forgotten the words.
Our translator begins to sing the words to a popular Syrian song and a light of recognition shines in their eyes. The children attempt to mumble a few words and then trail off. The interpreter does too, sadly giving up.
World Vision aid worker Dominica Leonard took these Syrian refugee children away from work, to play. Photo / Jo Currie / World Vision
Songs aren't the only thing these three struggle to remember. Fatima remembers that she liked maths at school, and that she finished the first grade before the conflict started. She knows she misses her friends, her house and her grandmother, but beyond that she can't remember the details of her old life. They have faded in the shadow of her new life, packing vegetables every day.
Between every question I ask, Hada, Omar and Fatima run back to the sacks of onions they are packing. I call them back, assuming they are running away because they are shy. Later, our translator tells me they kept running back because they had to get back to work.
With the permission of their parents, I take Hada, Omar, Fatima and other children living in this settlement to play - just for half an hour.
I teach them the few songs that stand out to me from my childhood - Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes, as well as Baa Baa Black Sheep and Incy Wincy Spider. We even manage to squeeze in a game of hopscotch, carved into the mud.
After a while, the children go back to work, buzzing from the excitement of the break in routine. It's now time for me to leave, and I try to think of the ways we in New Zealand can make a difference in these children's lives. As I walk away, my thoughts are interrupted by the faint humming of Heads, Shoulders, Knees and Toes coming from Fatima, as she's crouched down in the mud, stuffing onions into a sack.
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