Life Inside A Refugee Camp

What is life like inside a refugee camp? Before I came I had seen pictures on the news, I had watched footage taken by a drone and none of it prepared me for the reality. Aerial shots from a drone can give you a sense of scale, but they can’t tell you what it sounds like, how it smells, how it makes you feel. 



The first time I enter the camp I am shocked by the inadequacy of the shelters, the sense of disorientation, the sheer number of people. And the noise!  The ground is mud. Mostly it’s hard and dry but when it rains it’s almost impassable. There are narrow tracks through which pass tuk tuks, rickshaws, the occasional minivan, cows, dogs, chickens and throngs of people. 



I make the walk through the camp from clinic to clinic during the day and I am surrounded by children. Laughing, smiling, cheeky children. Some are shy and keep their distance. Some walk alongside us for a while. Some try out their few English phrases: “how are you?” “Bye bye” “ta ta” they shout amidst their giggles. They are thrilled when we we reply, and baffled when we answer with the few words we know in their language. 



When I tell people I am a children’s nurse they often say how sad that must be, how upsetting to see the sick children.  There are incredibly tough days, but more often than not a children’s ward is a happy place to be. Children find a way to play wherever they are and I am forever amazed at people’s ability to cope with whatever life throws at them. 



These children are no different. There are numerous kites flying at various altitudes over the camp. These are made from sticks and discarded plastic bags. I don’t see toys as children at home would know them, but children have wonderful imaginations and I see them playing with stones or digging in the dirt. 



There are lines of children with distinctive turquoise unicef backpacks, heading off to school in the camp. Many are to be found in the designated ‘safe spaces for children’. 



Where there is light there must also be shade. I am also well aware of the children carrying heavy loads of wood or bamboo, the boys collecting bags of rice from the food distribution line, the small children in charge of a much smaller baby. Where are their parents? Who will notice if they don’t come home? In a camp of a million refugees, where shelters are built according to no particular plan, how do you even find your way home?



We hear distressing stories about life in the camp after dark. About women afraid to leave their shelter even to go to the toilet for fear of rape. We hear about child trafficking. We hear about people living in fear. 



We do what we came to do and we try to make a difference where we can, knowing that we are scratching the surface.  For now, seeing a child managing to get a makeshift kite into the air, or laughing at my attempts to communicate with them in their language, will have to be enough.