The Hill News

LEBANON - On a craggy, windswept hill in northern Lebanon, high above the Mediterranean Sea, my Refugees International colleague and I knocked on the door to what looked like a small, derelict building. A woman opened the door, looking hesitantly at us. A trusted member of the village told her why we had come â€" to meet with refugees from Syria and hear their experiences and needs â€" and she allowed us to enter. Her family had fled from Homs, a city that has been under constant bombardment in recent weeks by the Syrian military. 



We walked into a room that was cold and bare. Members of the household huddled around a small stove fueled by gas. Next to it was a round plastic table where we sat and had small cups of coffee. We learned that this shelter hosted 13 people in all: a grandmother who was still in her forties, some of her children, and her grandchildren. Her daughter was there too, with her husband and children. The youngest person in the house was th! ree years old. One woman was about to have a baby.

The entire time we were there, the grandmother appeared nervous, asking us repeatedly whether the Syrian government knew we were there, or what we were asking. We assured her that we would never reveal her name. I'm not sure she was convinced. 

When we asked how long the monthly rations they received from international agencies lasted, the grandmother said about ten days, sometimes longer. They did not include fresh fruit, vegetables, or meat. We asked what they did when they ran out of food and she said that they scraped by, looking for whatever work was available and hoping for gifts from local charities.

Read more...