Two weeks ago, my fellowship partner, Laura, and I arrived in Amman, Jordan, wondering what lies ahead in our humanitarian aid journey to the Middle East. Our goal here sounds simple enough: to support the work of the women and men at Save the Children International as they respond to the Syrian refugee crisis. This blog is my attempt to chronicle the road ahead, as uncertain and as non-linear as it may be.
Already, we have experienced the famed Jordanian hospitality (strangers exclaiming “welcome” on the street); the omnipresent mouth-watering cuisine (I am hungry just thinking of the traditional meze breakfast prepared by one of our Save the Children colleagues in our honor this past week); and the colorfully chaotic souks (open-air markets) of downtown—negotiation skills a plus.
Apart from experiencing the culture and vibrancy that is Amman and life in the Middle East, we are here to learn and use our skills in policy (in my bailiwick) and documentary narratives (definitely not me) to support the work of the women and men at Save the Children International, who spend much of their days helping to breathe new life into the time-worn notion that “it takes a village to raise a child.” Here, in the context of a stubbornly-intractable humanitarian crisis born of the strife in Syria, that proverb might best be adapted to “it takes an international village to protect a child.”
Lesson No. 1: It’s all about collaboration.
To the extent that this response has been a successful one, it is because collaboration is at its core—the international community (including the generous donors that undergird the response infrastructure) working side-by-side with the host communities of Jordan. As a member of Save the Children’s Child Protection team, I have thus far attended three inter-agency meetings focused on building protective communities for Syria’s refugees, particularly children and women. In each instance, I was struck by intentional efforts on the part of international non-governmental organizations to ensure that they integrate their programs and message campaigns with the host communities. Host community members benefit from many of these programs, such as projects aimed at increasing access to adequate water and sanitation facilities, and strengthening the skills of Jordanian teachers.
In one meeting, I listened as protection experts talked about the importance of trying to register every Syrian refugee child born in Jordan. Registration, it turns out, minimizes the risk of continued statelessness by ensuring a child’s right to education, health, legal, and social services. When Syrian parents ran into registration obstacles, aid organizations worked with Jordanian authorities to register hundreds of children outside of the normal strictures of Jordanian law. The solution is flexible, encourages greater registration, and likely helps build a foundation for greater cooperation in the future.
After only 14 days, we have much to learn about the response to the refugee crisis that has spilled out of Syria and into the neighboring host countries of Iraq, Lebanon, Turkey, and, of course, Jordan. We are still trying to understand whether the ostensible permanence of the Za’atri refugee camp in northern Jordan is an alarming bellwether—when can these innocent people return home?—or a laudable development—does order in the midst of chaos equal success? What role, if any, should the international community play in fostering constructive relations between host and refugee communities? And what can those of us working here in Jordan learn from other host countries’ approaches to this humanitarian crisis (Turkey’s Kilis refugee camp comes to mind)?
In the coming months, I suspect that I will have the opportunity to bear witness to many an instance of cooperation. In the meantime, on this Valentine’s Day, I am giving love to all those banding together to protect the village of Syrian children. Thank you. Now, let the journey begin . . .
Already, we have experienced the famed Jordanian hospitality (strangers exclaiming “welcome” on the street); the omnipresent mouth-watering cuisine (I am hungry just thinking of the traditional meze breakfast prepared by one of our Save the Children colleagues in our honor this past week); and the colorfully chaotic souks (open-air markets) of downtown—negotiation skills a plus.
Apart from experiencing the culture and vibrancy that is Amman and life in the Middle East, we are here to learn and use our skills in policy (in my bailiwick) and documentary narratives (definitely not me) to support the work of the women and men at Save the Children International, who spend much of their days helping to breathe new life into the time-worn notion that “it takes a village to raise a child.” Here, in the context of a stubbornly-intractable humanitarian crisis born of the strife in Syria, that proverb might best be adapted to “it takes an international village to protect a child.”
Lesson No. 1: It’s all about collaboration.
To the extent that this response has been a successful one, it is because collaboration is at its core—the international community (including the generous donors that undergird the response infrastructure) working side-by-side with the host communities of Jordan. As a member of Save the Children’s Child Protection team, I have thus far attended three inter-agency meetings focused on building protective communities for Syria’s refugees, particularly children and women. In each instance, I was struck by intentional efforts on the part of international non-governmental organizations to ensure that they integrate their programs and message campaigns with the host communities. Host community members benefit from many of these programs, such as projects aimed at increasing access to adequate water and sanitation facilities, and strengthening the skills of Jordanian teachers.
In one meeting, I listened as protection experts talked about the importance of trying to register every Syrian refugee child born in Jordan. Registration, it turns out, minimizes the risk of continued statelessness by ensuring a child’s right to education, health, legal, and social services. When Syrian parents ran into registration obstacles, aid organizations worked with Jordanian authorities to register hundreds of children outside of the normal strictures of Jordanian law. The solution is flexible, encourages greater registration, and likely helps build a foundation for greater cooperation in the future.
After only 14 days, we have much to learn about the response to the refugee crisis that has spilled out of Syria and into the neighboring host countries of Iraq, Lebanon, Turkey, and, of course, Jordan. We are still trying to understand whether the ostensible permanence of the Za’atri refugee camp in northern Jordan is an alarming bellwether—when can these innocent people return home?—or a laudable development—does order in the midst of chaos equal success? What role, if any, should the international community play in fostering constructive relations between host and refugee communities? And what can those of us working here in Jordan learn from other host countries’ approaches to this humanitarian crisis (Turkey’s Kilis refugee camp comes to mind)?
In the coming months, I suspect that I will have the opportunity to bear witness to many an instance of cooperation. In the meantime, on this Valentine’s Day, I am giving love to all those banding together to protect the village of Syrian children. Thank you. Now, let the journey begin . . .