If you think about it, kids were the more recent people to hang out with God and so we should respect them, value them, not like smaller adults but more like if they were the best versions of humanity.

                                                                        – Jerome Jarre

totally aware that not all of these are photos of children, but I’m so in love with the aforementioned and find it quite fitting. Still having warm fuzzies about all of it, but there’s always that extra something about the people you meet (and smother with hugs) in certain places. That in-explainable tug at the strings of your heart&soul which concludes with a massive drawn out sigh on my part because I want to go back! Until then though, I hope you fall as in love with these as I have xx

If you’re ever on any type of deployment or volunteer gig which includes people, human beings, and you’re told not to interact with those people because that’s not what you’re here for, do.not.listen.

You might be someplace to help with infrastructure, deliver medical aid, or work on a conservation project etc., but not hugging or speaking to even one local person is a missed opportunity at creating human connection. How else are you to fathom what someone’s gone through, or what they are in need of? For us to simply enter unknown territory and deliver boxes of food because we want to ‘help’, but don’t want to even attempt to understand how those we’re here to help have come to such a point in their lives to require said ‘help’ is a shittier form of colonialism in my opinion.

To presume that ones physical presence as a result of where you come from (‘First World’) is more than enough and that that alone should speak volumes unto an oppressed or already victimized peoples is probably the massivest load of bollocks I could ever think of. You are present as a result of your privilege. As a result of chance and circumstance. Nothing more, nothing less. As humans its in our nature to feel things, sadness, hurt, anger, love, regardless of where you come from, and that’s the beauty of having a heart isn’t it? Allowing it to feel and permeate into the depths of each others souls without using words. Our hearts speak the same language but more importantly our souls share the same voice x

We visited a few villages today where people who’ve already registered with SKT come to pick up their boxes. Each person is notified beforehand be it via text or word of mouth about the upcoming drop-off where they must bring/show a form of ID alongside an SKT registration card. It’s overwhelming seeing mothers with baby in hand, toddler waddling close behind and trying to balance this pretty heavy box on her head as though it’s no big deal, but you know she hasn’t got a choice because that box literally contains her bread and butter until the next drop-off (fyi some of us did carry them all the way home to help because duh.)

Also saw a different side to the cute ickle kids which I think was a bit of a shock to some of the others lol kids are kids no matter where in the world and will forever go mad over sweets. Even more so when they’re from a foreign land and it ended up being super mob-like with a few tears and lots of pushings etc. but I’d like to think everyone at least got something x

Evening ended with visits to local families who suffer from various illnesses or disabilities as a result of the war whom SKT also provide assistance too. One of the men we met was paralyzed from the waist down and suffers from cancer; his 17-year-old son has had to drop out of school in order to tend to his father. Another family had 4 children between the ages of 24 and 30 more or less in a vegetable state literally sprawled across the room unable to walk, speak, eat on their own, absolutely nothing and completely dependent upon their parents for survival. That was hard to see, and again how does one even attempt to console or see the good in that situation. Of course you well up but what good are my tears. You can’t help but be in awe of and make silent dua for the immense patience instilled in mothers and fathers to both accept an expected fate, and do the best they can within their means for the sake of that love for ones family and children.

One more day left and I’m trying not to think about leaving. I’m taking it all in, every second, every persons face I kiss, every embrace and cuddle, and I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to go back and simply define all of this as an ‘experience’ because it’s so much more than that x

 

This morning began with the return to the warehouse where we completed the remaining boxes. Yesterday I had made friends with some of the neighbors and kinda sorta promised one of the mums Id definitely stop by today for some tea. Arab hospitality is always Arab hospitality lol in that its never ‘just’ tea haha she proceeded to explain to me what mashawee was (stuffed eggplant) which she had made for me and insisted I stay for lunch. Unfortunately couldn’t stay long enough, but was able to hang out with them over some Turkish qahwa.

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The family’s been in Turkey since 2015 after their house was struck by a bomb. All 6 members of the family were home during that time and the oldest son who was only 16 was killed. Baba also severely damaged his right knee which prevents him for being able to work much here in Turkey. I was shown a video of their son after the attack, a lifeless body covered in blood, eyes and mouth wide open, the faintest murmur of voices and prayers in the background as though this was a usual occurrence and simply just another unfortunate life lost. There’s a problem with that. When the death of a 16-year-old, a child, renders no reaction or immediate emotional uproar as though death via a bomb strike is ‘normal’, I find it disgustingly unacceptable. This cutie Fattousha was born in Turkey, and mama insisted I take one or all her babies with me presumably in hope of better opportunities available to her children.

Headed to the rehabilitation centers who are regular recipients of the SKT food packages in the afternoon, and I don’t think my heart expected to feel what it felt. I haven’t quite been able to define exactly what emotion ran through my soul and it isn’t something I’ve felt before. I’m a super emotional and touchy-feely-huggy person who’ll either feel everything ten-fold or nothing at all (more-so the former than the latter), and my heart didn’t know what to do. At each of the 5 centers we stopped at, we were able to hear from some of those physically affected by the war and I don’t know what words of comfort silly little me could possibly offer to make things the slightest bit okay.

Men who are physically unable to walk anymore and who haven’t seen their wives and children for 5 years. Men missing complete limbs, or waking up 3 months later in Turkey only to learn that his wife and 2 kids are dead. I asked him whether he would return back to Syria, whether his heart would always yearn for his country, and I’ve been asking this to many people I meet. The answers have varied, some adamant that Syria is their ‘wataniy’, their homeland and of course their hearts ache for the land they come from, whilst others state that this is safer for their children and families. This particular mans answer had me get up and leave the room because I didn’t want to get super emotional and make everything, make him uncomfortable, but he said ‘for what? I have nothing. I have no one. My mother and father are dead. I have no wife or children. I don’t have anything’.

There was a women’s rehabilitation center we stopped by as well which houses about 20 women and their children, all who are in need of medical attention. The general atmosphere in all the places we visited has been one of a hushed despair masked by multiple ‘inshallahs’ and an unconvincing façade of hope. And I’m unsure as to whether it’s simply to convince us or themselves, but my heart is having a real hard time trying to see past it.

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Our final stops appeared to be in an area occupied by recent refugees. I have to keep reminding myself I’m in Turkey because wallahi I feel like I’m in Syria. And I’ve never been to Syria. The organization has a database established via a ‘need’ basis upon which they determine which families and facilities receive the food packages. I don’t know what part of my heart or brain had to be switched off when neighboring mothers, fathers, and children approached me to ask for a box with open arms, telling me that they’re also Syrian with 10 kids at home, or a sick child, and just as deserving of assistance.

And I know that they are! My heart knows it so so badly and I have to pretend like I don’t see the despair in their faces for the fact that they literally need to ask for help, something, anything, to bring temporary ease to their lives and their family. It tugs at your heart strings like nothing I’ve ever felt before and you feel like the shittiest person on the bloody planet. Because I’m here thinking I’m doing something but am I really? Or am I helping myself? How is me feeling bad and my heart hurting helping make a difference in their lives?

This jiddha (grandmother) told me of her 2 sons who died in an air strike as everyone was sleeping, showing me their ID cards, evidently all she had left to remember them by. What am I supposed to say to console her? There is nothing more frustrating than being unable to do absolutely nothing, say absolutely nothing to relieve the pain of someone. To erase the bad memories from their minds and make their hearts okay.

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I hug because that’s all I can do, and I pray so much that the tight embrace we share for just half a minute transfers all the love and light in the world to them letting them know that they are loved beyond belief. That I genuinely wish nothing but light and goodness to come their way so tears may never return to their faces, so that their hearts may never undergo a hurt like which they have experienced, and that so many of their brothers and sisters around the world are praying day and night for them, and for everyone afflicted by war, pain, and poverty to be relieved of it all so very soon inshallah x

Gosh, where to begin when your heart and soul are filled to the brim and you kinda sorta just wish all the worlds problems could be solved with hugs and smiles and laughter x

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Got in late last night and managed to meet everyone I was meant to meet. Headed to the hotel and had a much needed freaking sleep! You know the snickers advert ‘you’re not you when you’re hungry?’, I’m deffo not meself when I’m tired lol I don’t think many people are, but regardless..!

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Had a bit of a later start to the day seeing as the rest of our deployment group is arriving later today so the real work officially starts tomorrow. Qes took me to his beloved rooftop space which I’ve definitely been envious of after creeping his instapostings haha and eep! Such a beautiful view of the entire city and totally been inspired to hit up other rooftops in the future inshallah! P.s how epic are the photos he took?!

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cue my half epic one of him……….

Headed to the ‘Springs of Hope’ after a bit and got the chance to see the fantabulous work SKT’s done for so many of the refugees! Springs of Hope is the orphanage supported by SKT which educates and houses roughly around 250 children and some of their mothers; according to Islam a child becomes orphaned once their father has passed, so if mums are present then they’re kept together with their children. The light radiating off the souls of these children reflecting from their faces was more than enough for me to fall in love with all of it x I have a lame smile plastered on my face as I’m writing haha but wallahi this is what real life blessings look like x

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The cutest tiny humans ever who just wanted to play and hug and hold hands and just so many warm fuzzies in me heart x I can’t even begin to imagine what each of them and their families have endured in bringing them to this point in their lives. I’ll also have you know that my broken mis-matched Arabic allowed for many successful conversations to be had today and helped me make a ton of new tiny people friends so super chuffed with meself! I think that’s probably the most Arabic I’ve ever spoken in one day…! Iman you’d be super proud haha

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Hung about in the evening sorting through photos etc. as we waited for the others to arrive, munched, and had an orientation information session about plans for the next couple of days.

The next couple days are literally based around packing food boxes which we’ll eventually be delivering to various villages, families, and camps; 9am til about 8pm. The goal for this deployment is 2400 boxes; so 1200 tomorrow and 1200 the next day. Items for the boxes have been decided upon by the SKT Turkey team based on the need they’ve noticed in this particular region (rice, flour, oil, tomato paste, vermicelli etc.) and even balloons this time for the kiddies in preparation for Eid! (I thought that was super cute lol)

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If you’d like to see snippets of what the day looks like, keep an eye on me Instagram/instatories (@shazaira) and if you’ve got specific questions both about the organization itself or the situation etc. feel free to drop me a message and I’ll do my best to answer! SKT’s instagram page is also going to be covering this deployment so be sure to give them a follow as well @sktwelfare alongside Mr. Qes @qes321 who’ll also be covering the trip!

Loving you and leaving you with some more goodness from the day! masalama xoxo

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