Who exactly is a refugee? Refugees are people who were forced to flee
from their country because of persecution. We typically see these refugees
as numbers and statistics, but they have faces names
personalities tears and smiles, just like the rest of us. They're men, women and children... fathers, mothers, sons and daughters, each with a difficult past, a complex
present, and hopefully a bright future. Within these gazes are the many
traumas, fears and ambitions, that make each of them individu
als. These are their faces. These are their eyes. This is their story. You've seen these images before, boats arriving on a shores have repeatedly
been shown on television around the world. Refugees are people who flee their
country of origin for various reasons: from wars, persecution and conflicts. They're often persecuted due to
their religious and political beliefs. The majority of these people have
left many things behind: their homes, their families and friends,
their jobs and their lands.
They've taken this decision to journey
towards new countries and a safer place. In the last couple of years,
the main migratory flows where many Civil Wars are still ongoing. As well as in Asia and in countries
such as Iraq, Afghanistan and Syria. The Syrian Civil War began in March 2011,
during the Arab Spring, a series of anti-government uprisings in
the Middle East and the north of Africa. The Syrian people were protesting to try and force the president at the time,
Bashar Al-Assad, to resig
n. A massive protest that took place
in the city of Dar'a, and the violent repressions that followed are believed to have been the
last straw for the Syrian people. From that day the uprising
spread to the whole country. Damascus, Homs and Aleppo. For the following months, these protests
occurred every Friday, often ending in bloodshed. Meanwhile, many
people within the military and the police force
began joining the rebels. This led to the formation of
the Free Syrian Army or FSA, on the 29th o
f July 2011. In 2012, the FSA led a powerful attack
on Assad's regime in the city of Homs. In the same period, jihadist militias
began fighting the government, and in January 2012, Al-Qaeda, together with the Al-Nusra Front,
announced their entry in Syria. Al Qaeda's reason for going to war
was different to that of the FSA. As a Sunni Muslim group, the FSA saw the Syrian
crisis as a chance to overthrow the government
of Assad, an Alawite. They could then establish an
Islamic State based on the S
haria. As a reaction to the
advancement of the Rebels, the governments militia massacred
more and more civilians. In the Houla village
massacre, a hundred and eight people were
killed... in cold blood, about 50 of them were children. Two major battles of the Syrian
conflict took place in 2012: the Battle of Damascus
and the Battle of Aleppo, which would go on for four years
causing over 31,000 deaths. In the first months of 2013,
the conflict became more Regional as the political group Hezbollah
, supported
by Iran, joined the war in Assad's side. At the same time, Isis
entered Syria from Iraq, led by Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. He too wished to use this opportunity to
promote Jihad and rebuild the caliphate. On the 21st of August
2013, in the Goethe District, 1400 people were victims
of a chemical attack. Among the many casualties were
members of the governments militia, civilians and mostly rebels. In 2014, Isis declared the Islamic State, and led an attack on the city of Kobane, which at t
he time was occupied
by Kurdish militia of the YPG. A few months later,
the Kurds were able to get it back. In August 2014, the United States, France, the UK
and other Western States, carried out an international military
intervention against the Islamic State. They dropped bombs in the north of the
country on several Isis targets. In 2017, with the battles
of Raqqa and Deir Ez-Zor, the government put an end to
the lands of the caliphate by conquering its most
important strongholds. Isis was vir
tually defeated. But in the first few months of 2018 the government, turned to
fighting the rebels again. Amidst this chaos, political
instability, and violence, millions of people keep
searching for a safe haven in neighboring countries
like Turkey, Jordan and Lebanon. Lebanon is a small country
overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. It's a country with an ancient turbulent history and it's endured
a lengthy Civil War, the end of the 20th century. While walking around, feeling amazed by all
the his
tory and culture of this place, is inevitable. The capital Beirut, is a
perfect example of this. Some of its buildings tell the
story of the country's troubled past, while others, the shiny
skyscrapers of the future. The country rich in
tourism, life and serenity is home to both Christians and Muslims, who peacefully coexist here. Walking around in this peaceful
atmosphere can feel strange. We're only a few miles from one of the most
dreadful conflicts of the last few years. Beirut is located on
ly a couple of hours
from the Syrian border. The civil war in Syria has forced
around 7 million to flee elsewhere, many of them here in Lebanon. Lebanon has a population
of about 6 million, and as of 2020, around 1.5 million
of these are refugees... at least, those are the ones we know of. As a result of governmental policy
prohibiting formal refugee camps, most of the Syrian refugees
live in cities and villages. The remaining fraction live in temporary
settlements throughout the country. The re
gistration of Syrian refugees
by UNHCR and Lebanon, were suspended by the government in 2015. Admission to Lebanon
is currently restricted to those who can provide
valid identity documents, and proof that their stay in Lebanon fits
into one of the approved reasons for entry. Lebanon is the country with the highest number of refugees
per citizen in the world. These refugees are located all over the
country in temporary, informal settlements. As we continue along this road, we decide
to stop at on
e of these settlements, where we get to meet Maria and Gheed, two girls working for the
UNHCR here in Lebanon. While walking around the tents,
we begin to reflect on the desperation that could have led these people
to run from their home and come and live in
such difficult conditions. We tend to assume that finding shelter
means finding a safe, peaceful place, but this isn't always the case. Finding shelter is only the
first step towards a new life. Just imagine... it's nighttime, and while you'
re sleeping in bed, you're suddenly awoken by
the sound of an explosion. It's a bombing, and in a split second
you must make a decision: staying and dying or running away
to try and survive. You find yourself leaving your home with
the very few things you can carry. You walk for days and days. You're trying to reach the closest
border knowing you may not reach it, and may not be able to cross it if you do. You're a father, you're a mother,
you're a grandparent, and you walk desperately on,
with
your kids on your shoulders, or clutching onto your mother's dress. And while you walk,
in the pitch-black night towards a border you hope you can cross, all you think about is
everything you've left behind, everything you might never see again. And you keep asking yourself "why me?", "Why is there a war
that forces me to flee?". - My name is Anna Maria, from Beirut. - His name is Adib.
- Itab. - Itab. Adib and Itab are two young Syrians
who invite us to their home. Their story is like that
of m
any other Syrian families. They have five kids. They come from Homes, the city
they left seven years ago. In Syria they were
farmers and lived in a house with four rooms, a
kitchen and a bathroom. Now they live in a fairly open tent, and their bathroom is a latrine shared
with the rest of the settlement. The two decided to flee after
months of doubts and discussions. What finally got them to make a decision was seeing their farm
and everything else they owned taken away from
them because of the
war. They couldn't work anymore. They couldn't live a decent life. Adib tells us he has five brothers, one is still in Syria,
while the other four are in other settlements
scattered across Lebanon, But he doesn't know the exact whereabouts. Itabs brothers are also in Lebanon, while
her elderly parents remained in Syria. - Tell us about your marriage. (Laughter) (Adib) - Itab's mother came to me, - and she said "Would you
like to marry my daughter?" - And I said: "It would be an honor." (Itab) -
Would you like
to see some pictures? When Itab shows us her
family photos, we're shocked. Whereas before we could only imagine
their life in Syria, now we can see it, bringing his face to face with reality. In these pictures we
see their childhood, their days at the pool,
their hikes and picnics, their birthdays, their
wedding, their friends. In these pictures, Adib
and Itab look just like us. Their photos are just like the
ones in our family albums. Itab has decided to keep them in a tin can, o
ne of the few objects she took
with her when she fled. In all that confusion, she was able to
have a clear mind and take their album. It's as if Itab, in that precise moment, realized she would be
leaving her life behind, and thought the most important
thing to do was to take her past, So as to never forget she ever had one. Adib tells us he like to return to Syria,
as soon as it gets safer. "Inshallah" he says... "God willing". Ayoub and Zahra are younger than us, He's 24 and she is 22 and they
fled from
Syria when they were 18 and 16. Their kids were born in this settlement. Like many other parents,
they too fear for their safety. The weather conditions can
get extreme in Lebanon. In summer, the heat is
unbearable, especially when living in a tent
made out of plastic sheets, and during winter temperatures
can drop below zero. The settlements can get completely
covered in snow. The snow has to be removed to prevent
the tents from collapsing, dampening or blocking the entrance. It turn
s into mud or melts into water
leading to dangerous floods. (Coughs) We listened to Ayoub and Zahra breathing
in courage and concern, love and fear. For now, their new home is here,
a series of tents in the mountains. The refugees live almost isolated,
far from any town or village. Living in a foreign
country can be difficult, and unpleasant discriminations
have occasionally taken place. - And you told us yesterday that they're
going to have to pay rent for staying here. - Yes, so since Lebanon
doesn't
have a formal camp policy, - refugees, on personal capacity,
rent land from landlords, - and they set up their tents...
construct their tents. - So they pay around
$50 for a shelter plot... - This one?
- So... Yes! - This is out of their monthly expenses. The refugees in this
settlement have to pay rent. These settlements are on private land, which would otherwise be used
to farm olives and other plants. Because of this, the
refugees must make up for the lack of profit
by paying $50 a mo
nth. A huge some, especially
if you have nothing. Walking around the place
everything feels... absurd, and yet incredibly real. The tents, the plastic sheets,
the heat, the land... we can feel them, as they can... these people who used
to have a roof over their heads, who now pay $50 a month for a tent. They could be us, their
children could be ours. One of them even looks
like one of ours, and noticing this, sends a
shiver down our spines. Abdel Karim has been living here
since 2013, the year h
e left Syria. He lives here with his wife Siham,
and their four children. Abdel and his wife often tell the
children stories of Syria, of their home, to give
them memories to hold onto. It must be strange to have roots and
memories of a life you never lived. Refugees face several
barriers for obtaining civil status documentation in Lebanon, especially birth registration which jeopardizes children's
rights to an identity, and could create a heightened
risk of statelessness. Not existing means not
having right. It means not being able to study, work,
travel or go to the hospital. It means being a ghost. UNHCR and partners continue
to work with the government to support refugee communities to
access birth registration procedures. Abdel hopes his children can go to school
and become doctors and engineers, but he doesn't know if he can afford it. The future of these children is uncertain. Will they change the world around them? What Ambitions will they have? Some of them dream of becoming f
ootballers. Their match is as intense
as the World Cup finals, but today there are no winners or losers and the match finishes with a drop
a handshake and no penalties. But not every child has the same dream. At the age of 16 some of them
have different priorities, - All my children are married and safe.
I'd like him to get married too. - Each morning, when I
wake up, I think of my mother... - I don't want her needing anything. - I want to be sure that she's fine. (Happy laughter) On the opposit
e side of the country
is the border with Jordan. With Amman, Petra, Jerash, the Wadi Rum,
the Red Sea and the Dead Sea, Jordan is becoming one of the main tourist
destinations of the Middle East. Located in the Fertile Crescent, Jordan is a country of desert
landscapes and vast highlands. In this land, rich in
culture and tradition, natural and man-made wonders are
found throughout the country. It's a land with many faces and
ten thousand years of history. A land of mosques, incredible
landscape
s, archaeological sites, and breathtaking sunsets. It's visited each year
by millions of tourists, but what most of these people
don't know is that every year the country also hosts hundreds
of thousands of refugees. In the capital of Jordan, Amman,
we find the Nuzha Community Support Center. Founded in 2013, its main purpose
is to include refugees in the local communities
via several activities. Among these is an English course which
allows the kids to learn a new language by meeting people fro
m other cultures, and also provides them with the
tools to build their own future. In the center, we meet Lily, a UNHCR worker who's been
in Jordan for about a year, as well as Hajj a man from Sudan, and Amitab, a Christian voluntary
worker with Iraqi Origins. Hajj and Amitab are refugees
who had to leave their homes due to political instability in the region. - I left my country and especially
my hometown because - the situation there...
they are killing and torturing, - and they are burning th
e village homes. - So there are no
circumstance to being alive. - In order to be alive you have to leave
there... many people they are being killed - and my family they are killed
and my uncle they are killed. - I watch them and I buried
them... so, it is very bad. - Very bad situation. - It is not allow me to be there. - I have to leave, I
decided I have to leave. - I am... I was attacked more than three
times by the militias in Sudan, in my home. - You know, sometime
in the middle of the night
and sometime in the day,
in front of many people. - There is no one you could ask... there
is no one, you know, there is no justice. - There are no, you know... security
there, so I decided to leave. - I receive a call from UNCHR, - to join this big Community Support
Center for all multi-nationality. - We have 6 nationalities
in the... in this building, - from Somalia, Sudan,
Yemen, Iraq, Syria... - Also the Jordanian people. - You know, this is a big chance for me. - How do you work for
all th
ese different culture? - I feel the sense of responsibility
to be a volunteer for some issues, - to help the refugee whether they are
from, they are Sudanese or other refugees. - So I feel that...
my absurdity to be a volunteer... - my absurdity to work with... with my brothers, so that is why
I decided to volunteer. - First time, as I mentioned, it was very
hard for me to work with these refugees, - but as I am a refugee,
I know how these people are feeling. - That's why we are connecting... be
tween
a volunteer, UNHCR and Jordan. - So we are like a project... between us. - So, we feel what the refugee is feeling. - We work as one team,
as one family, in this center. - When I am here, it is really...
it is very painful for us, - because... you know, I
need to be gentile, I need to... - the story could be
omitted and written again with a empty paper,
with a good empty paper. - Really, it's the story of the
refugees that cannot end... - They are many who suffer
about their story, and it'
s painful. - In my hopes, believe me, first of
all I want that all Arab countries, - especially the ones who have the war,
to feel like and live in peace. - But for this situation, it's very hard, - and I hope for me that I get
to meet and enjoy my family - because it's been a long
time since I've seen my family.. it's like 14 years
that I haven't seen them. - My family is actually now in the United
States and they will have a citizenship. - Only me now has not joined my family,
because they are
far away from me, - and as you know, the new information
on the situation in the United States, - is that Trump has banned
a lot of countries, and that's why now it's very
hard to enjoy my family. - I spent 10 years in IDP
camps, internal IDP camp, - paying, hope and praying for
peace to come but unfortunately, - they are... you know, the circumstances
going from wars to wars, - so, I hope that in the incoming
future to be... to bring peace... peaceful, - and there to be peace, so that I will
b
e back to my home. - I don't feel the calm and
the warmth... anywhere else. - My home could be
the best place to be alive. - Yeah, of course, we miss our country because I love... we
have a lot of memories, - but after the war believe me,
you have a lot of bad memories. - That's why I don't like to go back
to this places especially, - because If you've
lost a lot of friends and uncles and someone
you knew and loved him, - who after the war you find out
they were killed by militia or by the war,
- It's very hard to go back and
remember all those bad memories. - Because you have a lot of
problem in our country, Iraq. - As I mentioned, now, it's very bad
or very hard to me to go back again, - because I don't have anyone in Iraq. - I hope to like... to find one good
country to accept me as a human. It's hard for us to imagine what it's like
to not see your family for several years, and even harder to imagine what it means
to be forced to live abroad, because of the unspeakable things
happe
ning back home. What strikes us the most is the willpower
that pushes them to help others, despite having lost all
they once had themselves. The refugees often
become voluntary workers, hoping that this solidarity can
create something new and positive. The aim of this community
center is precisely that of bringing people from
different backgrounds together, so as to
build a collective future. - Hello, my name is Marie,
I'm from Jordan. - Hello, my name is Sara
Omar, I'm from Yemen. - My name is
Omar Ibrahim Mohammad Hamash.
I'm from Syria. - My name is ThorelFakar Mohammad Na'im,
I am from Iraq. Thorelfakar studies here
in the community center. His family fled from Iraq
in 2006 and he now lives in a house in Amman
with his mother and sister. His father is fighting cancer in a
hospital, while his brother is in Canada. His mother tells us how she would
have liked for her kids to study, so as to join their brother in Canada. We're stunned by her
determination and love, And how she does he
r best to guarantee
a dignified future for her kids, even if it takes them thousands
of miles away from her, even if it means she
might never see them again. - Thank you... Thank you. Thorelfakar is only one of the 634,000
refugees living in the center of Amman. The rest of the refugees live a few hundred
miles away in the middle of the desert. The refugee camp of Azra is located
about 56 miles from the border with Syria. 36,000 people live in this camp and
sixty percent of them are children. Mo
st of these children
are below the age of five, and a hundred and twenty-six of them
aren't looked after by an adult. Here we are greeted by Hamzeh of the UNHCR. Entering Azraq is quite a shock. After a long drive in the desert,
far from any town or city, we begin seeing a massive
infinite stretch of white tents. They're surrounded by barbed wire and
there's no water or vegetation, only dry land and sheet metal, and heat
rising visibly from the ground. We see people walking out of their tents,
d
azed, lost souls, in a timeless place. - Azraq camp, we talked
about it when Zaatari Camp - has reached its maximum capacity, - and in 2013, we started in
preparation for the camp, - and by 28th of April we
received the first group. - When Zaatari reached
it's maximum capacity, - the authorities and
all the UN organizations, they thought of having another camp. Hamzeh and Lily take us to Abu Omar's home. He welcomes us in his living room,
where we meet his family. Fatima, his oldest daughter was
about 10 when they fled the country. She remembers
everything: the confusion, the chaos, the speed at
which it all happened. But despite the complex circumstances, it's better to live in
peace in a container, than in a beautiful home that
may blow up any minute. Abu Omar's youngest son
had an accident a while ago: He broke his tibia, risked paralysis,
and had to undergo 13 operations. He's doing better now,
but still has difficulty walking. Perhaps what's most important in Azraq is that the chi
ldren can study and
build a future for themselves. The more we spend
time with Syrian refugees, the more we realize how important
education is for each family. It's essential for the parents to know
their children can study, learn a job, and contribute to their society. The school here feels just like any school. Before the Bell Rings the boys
and girls play outside, throw their bags around and
help push the bus when it gets stuck. Azraq is the children's camp, as children
make up for over half
of it's population. This becomes rather evident
once we're in the schools courtyard, making our way in a crowd of children. Many of these kids were born here and
have never seen their country of origin. Others had to leave
home at a very young age. Either way, almost none of them
remember their life before the camp. Azraq is all they've known. They wake up in the
morning in a white container, they walk along the dirt roads
under the scorching sun, and spend the morning
in a colored container. Th
ere are loads of
them, and for the first time since we're here, we
sense hope and happiness. There's none of the
horror of war in their eyes, the tragedy of losing
everyone and everything. Life in Azraq is normal for them,
it's their daily routine, and in their eyes is the eagerness,
the hunger to play and have fun, Omar, one of Fatima's brothers, doesn't yet
know what he wants to do when he grows up, and for the time being he lives
the life of any regular student. The boys go to school in the m
orning,
the girls in the afternoon. Fatima, who was older than
her brother, has very clear plans. She wants to be a doctor, Her road is long and arduous,
but her determination is strong. Slow and steady wins the race. After spending a couple of days in Azraq,
everything starts to feel normal. It all becomes part of everyday life, from the sheet metal glistening in
the sun to the red, dry Earth. In each of as reacts districts is a market,
with a few small stores. Khaled is a 35-year-old
man who r
uns a small shop, where he sells food, sweets,
drinks, and other products. - He's shy. Khaled wakes up every
morning to open up shop. He takes a break for lunch,
and comes home in the evening. He tries to keep things as similar as
possible to how they were in Syria. Many others in the camp try to do the same. But the market is also a meeting place,
where people can catch up and have a tea. Long distances are covered by bikes, many of which have been donated
by the city of Amsterdam. Azraq tries
to have all the
facilities of any regular city. This is crucial, as the
40,000 people living here all come from areas rich
in culture, history and tradition. The aim is to try and emulate the
everyday life these people once had. Azraq is temporary, but may have
to keep existing for several decades. It's important for its citizens to remember
the little things that made up their day, like going to the supermarket, meeting up
with people and working behind the counter. It's important for them to k
now they
can go to the doctor, if they or their children get sick. It's important for them
to know that every day, the footprint of a small
foot, new to this world, can be hung on the maternity ward door. It's important for them
to know life goes on. And like in any society, the passion
for creative work mustn't fade. Whether it's making pottery, making a
rag doll or sewing a dress by hand. Nothing can be allowed to
destroy ones creativity. There's also a barber,
so people can keep clean and tid
y, and look
their best for festivities. And while adults are busy working,
children are busy playing. But these social activities
aren't just for children. Adults too have their
group sessions, where they can discuss global
and personal issues. During this anger management
session we meet Fayad, who invites us over for some tea. - In Syria, I was a decorator.
I worked 9 months a year in Lebanon, - and would come back home
for 2 months to see my family. - When we left our home,
we walked non-stop
for 28 hours, - Then we arrived at the Jordan border,
where we stayed for 17 days. - How was your house in Syria? - One time they sent him a
photo and he feels... like... "no". - And maybe we can
like avoid that because it... - he might of said that because he
doesn't want to go through traumatic... - like incident, because
the house was destroyed. - He's saying that he
didn't even get to enjoy it. - He worked for like years and years
in Lebanon to build the house, - and when he finished everyt
hing
and he was ready to move back, - the house was destroyed. - Would you go back to Syria? - Where would I go back? - My house was destroyed,
I have nowhere else... nowhere to live. - I have no family. - There's nothing to go to. Fayad is the first person we meet
who wants to build a future elsewhere. Hearing his story and
feeling his resignation, we can't blame him for his sad words. Fayad has lived a life of sacrifices, working for 9 months a year away from his
family, so he could build a ho
me for them. And when that home was
bombed, his hard work, patience, and all those
years collapsed with it. He'll never get those years
away from his family back. They were all for nothing. Fayad is part of a broken generation, a generation whose future has been
slipped out from under their feet. These people don't ask for
much anymore, only to live in peace, away from the suffering
and the tragedy of their past. Fayad's generation may be defeated, but there's another one with
huge potential and
energy. It's the generation of
Ryan and his sister Zeinab. These two Tae Kwon Do fighters train
everyday to improve their technique and become martial arts champions. Ryan tells us he recently earned his
black belt, right here in the camp. Ryan and Zeinab are the 'Hope Generation', tasked with overcoming the struggles of its
future through hard work and dedication. They'll fight with discipline and peace,
as is taught in martial arts. Because after 10 years of pain,
loss and suffering, Ryan and
his generation are
those who can finally win it. In many of the countries we've
been to as filmmakers, we've seen tough situations. We've seen heartbreak and misery. But this trip was different. And this time we didn't meet
people who didn't have anything. We met people who had
everything taken away from them. People who've had to pay
for the choices of others. These choices and economic,
political, and social matters, were made by people
who didn't stop to think that their actions would have a
n impact
on the daily life of so many others. Like many others we'd asked ourselves
what it meant to be a refugee. We'd asked ourselves how money from
International donations were spent. We've asked ourselves what it
meant to help these people. To help hundreds, thousands...
to help millions of them. We'd asked ourselves if our help was
needed, if it would make any difference. We left off with many questions, and now
we can say we've found the answers. We've found them in those studying
to be a
doctor, in those running a shop, in those who want to go to school and
who might not be able to. We've found them in those who play
football, who take of their mother, who fear for their children, or look at old
photographs with a touch of nostalgia. We've found the answers in the people
wanting to see their family again, or wanting to go back home. We've found them in those who,
on the other hand, don't want to go back and see the houses in rubble, Or in those who study English,
or those who ha
ve walked for many miles, and can't walk much longer. We've found the answers
in those who are ready to take their first steps
towards a new future. Those are work, those who create,
and those have chosen to fight with hope and determination. We've found the answers
to all our questions by looking into the eyes of these people, the eyes of ourselves.
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