Qayyarah Airstrip Emergency Camp - One Year On

This week we had a little party in the camp to celebrate the teams' work over the last year. I can't believe what they have achieved - we started the year with a skeleton staff who had experience from working with us in some Syrian refugee camps - maybe 10 people total to open and run a camp of 3,000 tents at the time. They had to manage a camp that was still under construction and was therefore a building site with all the dangers that brings, whilst receiving sometimes hundreds of arrivals at a time (most often in the middle of the night), recruiting and training new staff members (99% of whom live in the camp), building relationships with local government, trying to understand how things like garbage disposal were managed, ensuring that they referred traumatised families for assistance, managing distributions of critical items to arriving families, agreeing basic rules of operation for the camp among all the agencies that operate in it. The list goes on and on. A year later we have a pretty slick team of about 170 staff who manage the day to day running of the camp, including all the water and sanitation facilities, and are the lead Protection team in the camp (ensuring that all residents are treated as they should be, can access services, are provided with legal assistance and psycho-social services).

So to celebrate all that they have done, I went with a crowd to host a party. We gathered all our teams for an hour or so to have speeches, eat cake and take A LOT of selfies. I have never been in so many photos in one place. But what a joy to see this incredible team take a break and celebrate together - the smiles said it all.

Here are a few interesting stats on the Qayyarah Airstrip Emergency Camp on it's first anniversary:

• 108,512 have called the camp their home at some point. The average population at any time over the last 6 months has been around 45,000.
• We have provided around 472 million litres of clean drinking water - equivalent to 188 olympic sized swimming pools.
• We have collected around 15,444 metres cubed of garbage - equivalent to 137 double decker buses. 
• There is one toilet per 27 people.
• There are 560 registered shop keepers doing business in the camp.

Our staff are on call 24/7 for all sorts of things to ensure the camp keeps running well. Some examples are:

• New arrivals are met at any time of day or night by the camp management staff and where-ever possible immediately allocated a tent and given critical items such as blankets.
• We have a generator operator on call to fix the massive generator that ensures that we have street lights at night, and a very small electrical connection to all 10,000 tents - this allows people to charge phones for example.
• We have a store keeper on call to open our on-site warehouse (very, very big tent) so that we can find spare tent parts and other critical items at any time.
• Protection staff are on call to assist with any personal crises or to intervene with security officials where needed - for example if a resident is arrested that team will accompany the resident to ensure fair treatment.

Some photos from the party:

Fun setting up for the party

Zainab clearly cracking a joke!

Selfies, selfies, seflies

We had a few cakes with various photos from the year printed on them

Botan - my incredible Camp Manager giving a speech. 

My turn for an off the cuff speech

Listening to the speeches

Sinan my amazing Water and Sanitation manager for the camp giving a speech

Attempting a group photo

Zainab and Asia - two of our senior female staff on the camp teams. Zainab is an engineer and in charge of all infrastructure (roads, drainage, lighting etc), and Asia is in charge of all hygiene promotion (ensuring everyone knows how to prevent cholera spreading for example) - these ladies absolutely rock in what is truly a man's world.

Slippery Slopes

Over the last few weeks and months we have had a huge turn over of expatriate staff in my programme. Not in the area that I oversee, but in our central office. As this is literally across the road from my office it has quite an impact on me too. Changing staff is a constant in our work - it's normal to only work a year or two before moving on. But we have had an exceptionally high number of people complete contracts within a short space of time, leading to lots of newbies.

One of the things this naturally leads to is many discussions where you explain how and why things have been done by the person before them; and of course people seeing things with new, fresh eyes often have ideas of how to improve things (as do internal auditors!). This is not necessarily a bad thing, but it's made me very aware of the natural defensiveness that rises up when we feel we are being criticised for work we feel has been done to the best of our collective abilities.

It has got me thinking about the incredibly fine line between defending and becoming defensive. It is important as a manager that when necessary I step up and defend my team. If I know they have worked hard, have overcome challenges, have made decisions which at that moment in time were what was best; it is hard to hear that criticised and it is my job to defend them against that. I have to be the buffer so that they can feel empowered to do their jobs. I also have to protect them, particularly the long-suffering local staff, from needless process changes. However, what a slippery slope it is to becoming defensive. Which is an ugly place to end up. It's one thing to explain the rationale behind previous decisions, but it's another to shut yourself down to any possibility of improvement or constructive criticism. Defending people and decisions, when necessary, is a good and right thing to do, but becoming defensive is just simply bad attitude. And there have been days recently where I have got so worn down by the constant questioning that I have definitely slid in to being defensive and therefore also communicating poorly.

So this has led me to thinking about how I make sure I stay on the right side of that line as much as possible. I think it has to be a daily decision to think the best of everyone, to keep an open mind, to accept that questioning how things are done is a natural part of a large change in staffing, to grow a thicker skin so that I can hear the meaning and heart behind the words without being oversensitive to the way they are delivered. I still need to be the buffer, but that doesn't mean that I dig my heels in and insist that nothing changes. Easier said than done, but I hope I'm improving!

Field Days & Earthquakes

What a difference a field day makes! This week I got out on two field days - one to Kirkuk and one to Qayyarah. Result - I have my work mojo back :-)

When I spend all my time in an office, problem solving for projects I don't see I get pretty grumpy. I start to wonder why I'm here. When I get out to the projects and the field offices, spending time with the amazing staff, meeting beneficiaries, problem solving at the site of the problem - then I know why I'm here.

As I've shared recently, political developments here have had a big impact on our ability to reach project sites. We've been experiencing both regulatory access issues - actually obtaining the various letters we need to pass through check points, but also physical access issues as check points have been closed preventing road travel across political lines. This has meant that field days have been less frequent and often only confirmed at the last minute; and I have had to wait until the much more useful staff have space for me :-)

This week everything finally seemed to fall in to place for a day in Qayyarah - we received our last letter which had been delayed; and we had managed to scout out a couple of roads that circumnavigated the one particular closed check point which had been preventing our movements. So we set off - there were two routes to choose from - one which was a better quality road but longer, and one over a mountain pass. We set off on the longer route and as we went we noticed that some trenches had been dug and we were having to off road now and then to bypass them. But 3 and a half hours later we finally reached the camp. I then decided that on the way back we should try the mountain road out - it was a lot of fun (the drivers may disagree with me) as it went through some beautiful scenery and also a weird kind of self-governed area of Turkish refugees from the early 1990s who are part of a specific military group. What had been a refugee camp is now a town that they control independently, and even kept control of when ISIS took the entire surrounding areas. The route was shorter but won't be appropriate when the rains start. Frustratingly when the team went the next day without me on the longer route, they discovered that our little ruse to avoid the closed check point has been discovered and so that route has now been blocked off also (those trenches we noticed being dug have been put in place to prevent use of the road) - so we are only left with the mountain route which remains open as it is held by a different military group.

I also went to Kirkuk this week - again the route is now beautiful through the mountains and some pretty villages, but we've gone from a 90 minute journey to 3 hours each way minimum. This makes the time you actually get at project sites pretty short - we don't want to be traveling outside of the city limits in the dark as roads are not lit and the risk of having an accident is much higher. So this means you might get 3 hours at a field site for 6 hours in the car. Not great statistics.

The teams are going to get pretty fed up of these travel times very quickly, and I've already put in place some recommendations to try and avoid burnout. But for me, one of the things I like about field days is the opportunity to chat with staff on the journeys. In the office I have my own private office which people are always popping in to, but I miss out on the general chit chat that happens in the team rooms. So being stuck in a car for 3 hours with staff is fine by me (most of the time!) - it's precious time for getting to know them. This week I traveled to Kirkuk with colleagues from Iraq, Syria and Sudan - conversation was so interesting - talking about Syria and the numbers of Syrian refugees now in Sudan, the situation in Lebanon and Saudi Arabia, learning more about why my Syrian colleague is not able to return home yet. Traveling to Qayyarah I was with two Iraqi colleagues and a Syrian colleague and again conversation was so interesting - they told me all about the self-governed area we travelled through, joking that we had been in 3 countries that day - Iraq, Turkey and Kurdistan. If I hadn't been with them, I never would have known that little bit of history.

I can't write a blog post this week and not touch on the earthquake. What an experience. I have felt tiny tremors in other countries before but nothing like this. The walls of my house literally swayed and the floor felt like jelly. But thankfully in my area there was no real damage. We were all just quite freaked out - including the local staff who say they have never felt such a large earthquake before. Sadly on the border areas and Iran, it has done some damage and we have spent some time this week looking at how we can support our colleagues in the DRC Iran programme with any response they may do.

I also celebrated my 3 year Iraqiversary this week. Crazy. When I look back I can't believe it's been 3 years already; but at the same time I feel like I've been here forever. This week kind of summed up what the last 3 years have been like - full of highs and lows, new experiences and challenging work. No two weeks have been the same, I have never felt like I have hit the point where life and work is stable. There is never a dull moment, you never know what the next day will bring. And while that is amazing in many ways, it is also tiring. And so I have put a time limit on my life in Iraq - I will be finishing my assignment here in March in order to take a break. I don't know what's next beyond taking that break. I'm looking forward to my final few months in this country that has stolen part of my heart - let's see what other new experiences I have before I leave!

Traditions

I am so aware that I haven't blogged for a few weeks. I keep thinking about it but am totally uninspired as to what to write about! Then I realised I should write about why I'm uninspired.....

The last few weeks have continued to be a frustrating time of being stuck in the office. We have had odd days where teams have been able to travel, but it's essential project staff only and that, sadly, does not include the boss very often! When I add to the access issues the fact that I've been battling some sickness it's no wonder I have cabin fever. Last week I was off work sick for 3 days, during which time the only people I saw were at the doctor's! All this means I feel pretty out of touch with our work and am getting a bit bored in the office every day. I'm seriously hoping to get to Mosul at the end of this week to see our new office which the team have been working on getting set up. So no contextual updates for you all I'm afraid.

Outside of work we've been having fun though. The weather is at one of it's few sweet spots of the year, where it's still warm during the day but nice and cool at night. It is dusty though. Last week we had a 3 day dust storm which destroyed a number of tents and latrines in the camp, as well as causing breathing issues for people. But that's passed and we're back to perfect 'sitting outside' weather which is my favourite. So I'm making the most of it by hosting various mini parties - dinner parties, outdoor cinema on my patio, BBQs and this week Fireworks Night.

One of the things I love about the adventure of living overseas is the opportunity to bring those traditions from home to life, and to include others in that. I love fireworks night in England, I love going to a small local display with friends, watching the fireworks while drinking something hot, heading to the pub after for a beer. It's just so English :-)

This year, I invited my Brit friends and colleagues over and a few extras to celebrate. We had hot dogs (with real english pork sausages!), cups of soup, mulled wine, a fire pit to emulate a bonfire, sparklers and some 'fireworks' that were really birthday candles. We played classical firework music while we watched the 'display', and we educated our non-Brit friends on the history of Guy Fawkes. It wasn't the same as it would be at home, but it was just as fun.

Traditions are so important in our lives to give us that sense of identity that we can struggle to find in this work. It's like creating family traditions, which bring a real sense of belonging to kids. Bringing traditions to life overseas helps us to remember that we aren't alone - even if no one around us shares that tradition, by drawing people in to our memories we fight that feeling of loneliness. And it goes both ways, I love being invited to Thanksgiving for example and getting an insight in to a really important American celebration. Sharing in these traditions together brings a real richness to our lives overseas where we are often thrown together in to a complete mishmash of cultures. You might not envy me for much, but I hope you're jealous of that!

A Stand Off

I've been back from leave for a week now. Those of you that follow the blog will know that it was touch and go as to whether I would get out due to the issues in Iraq. Towards the end of my break, things heated up further, and as I had my 'blood test' visa validation in Baghdad (which interestingly requires no blood), it began to look like I wouldn't get back to Erbil and may be temporarily stuck in Baghdad. Thankfully I managed to get a flight up to Erbil which handily flew around Kirkuk avoiding fighter jets and landed safely if somewhat delayed.

Things in Iraq are best described right now as tense. The aftermath of the referendum in Kurdish-controlled areas continues to escalate as both sides try not to lose face and harden their stances. The 'border' between areas controlled by Federal Iraq and areas controlled by the Kurdish Government of Iraq has been shifting through force, and then reinforced by regulatory requirements for crossing. How does this affect us?

Well we are not particularly in any additional, imminent physical danger but the situation is impacting our work significantly. Some examples are:

• New and existing international staff being stuck outside of the country until new visas are processed, as we didn't used to need the visas for all staff.
• Delays in receiving our 'access letters' to enable us to pass through various check points to reach project sites. The teams which usually travel around have now been 'grounded' for 2 weeks and the cabin fever is palpable. Projects are continuing but not being able to access them increases the risk of things not being done to the highest quality.
• Increased travel times to areas we can reach as we have to navigate around new check points and routes. For example it was taking 90 minutes to reach our Kirkuk field office, it's now taking 3 hours.
• Issues with moving money between 'Iraqi' banks and 'Kurdish' banks due to the sanctions imposed by Baghdad.
• Not being able to move simple provisions between offices such as necessary paperwork, supplies, equipment etc. Many of my offices are in areas where markets are not functioning fully so we are usually trucking stuff around in order to keep staff supplied with stationary, cleaning items, tea & coffee, IT equipment etc, etc.
• Local staff feeling nervous about the situation and some are less willing to travel than they were.
• Continually getting turned around when trying to access areas. Today we tried to get through to Mosul only to get to the check points to find that during the time we'd been on the road they had closed again. Not only is this frustrating, but it carries the risk that teams get 'stuck' on the wrong side of the check points. We're prepared for this in terms of having places for them to sleep in each area, but it's not ideal.

Both sides in this need to come together for peace talks before things escalate any further, but at the moment that seems to be impossible. Please pray that the coalition is able to facilitate political talks to bring a peaceful end to this stand off, and for us to be able to do our work in the meantime. Please pray for the continued safety of the staff as they try and move around in tense areas, and for wisdom as we continually monitor the situation and make decisions on where to go when. There's certainly never a dull day!

Political Wranglings

I'm sitting in a hotel room in Bergen, Norway, writing this as the rain pours down outside. I wanted to give a little overall update for what's happening in Iraq as some of you will have seen bits and pieces on the news and via my Facebook feed.

1. Hawiga - this is the latest area of conflict near me in Iraq. It's a bubble of territory that is still held by ISIS. Over the last couple of weeks the military offensive to recapture the area has begun and with it has come some fairly significant numbers of people displaced. Displacement has happened quickly in waves which make it harder for the humanitarian community to keep up, but generally things seem under control from that perspective. My teams are slightly less affected by this as most of what's happening falls outside of my area of responsibility. However there is a specific town we've been trying to reach for months now. The one I wrote about ages ago with the river running through it with ISIS on one side. This town became inaccessible to us shortly after I wrote that blog post due to deteriorating security. It is now part of the frontline of the current military campaign. We know people are on desperate need there and we have supplies ready to go. The only reasons we have not been able to in the last two weeks is logistical issues. There are not enough bridges in this area across the Tigris - bridges were destroyed in the conflicts and so we rely on military pontoon bridges which are put in to place to allow access. However, because there are not enough the military sometimes has to move them to new areas. This happened in the last two weeks - we lost a bridge in Mosul as it was needed for Hawiga. Then the bridges are also struggling with the level of use and so weight restrictions get put in place making it hard to truck heavy supplies around. There also isn't enough warehousing available so storing stocks near populations in need is becoming a logistical problem too.

2. Add to that the current political climate. On 25th September there was a referendum in areas under Kurdish control for an independent Kurdish state. I won't get in to the politics here as that's not my job but suffice to say that the vote was not welcomed by the Iraqi Federal Government (or many international governments) and has been declared unconstitutional. The government has imposed various sanctions as a result, making travel between Kurdish controlled areas and Federal Iraq more and more difficult. We already had to have separate permissions for the different areas to get through checkpoints but it has got tighter and tighter. For my teams this is a very real issue - my most senior staff, both expat and national, are based in Kurdish areas but travel daily to project sites in Iraq proper or in disputed areas. Moving people and stock across those lines is suddenly much harder. As is leaving the country.

3. Sanctions - Until Friday 29th September international flights landed directly in the Kurdish areas at the two international airports - Erbil and Suli. From 6pm on 29th air space was closed to international carriers. What makes this difficult is that those of us living in Kurdish areas have a residency and visa related to that. Living in Federal Iraq requires a separate visa, and you cannot even transit through the airport in Baghdad without a visa. So there are huge numbers of expatriate staff across agencies who have got stuck either inside Kurdish areas, or are out on leave and cannot re-enter. Other sanctions that are being considered and/or implemented by Baghdad against Kurdish controlled areas are things like refusing to transfer money from the central bank to regional banks, refusing to pay civil servant salaries, asking diplomatic missions that do not have bases in Baghdad to leave etc. The ramifications of the referendum reach to neighbouring countries also. Turkey and Iran are both opposed to the idea of an independent Kurdistan and so have begun their own posturing - military exercises are suddenly being carried out in border areas.

What does all this mean?

Well, international staff and humanitarian work in general is not a target in all this. We are not under any additional threat. But our work has become much harder overnight. We are waiting to see what impact international talks may have, but are gearing ourselves up for a sustained period of trying to function in this political climate. We are putting together contingency plans. We are ensuring we have all the visas we might need. We are checking we have different options for banking in-country. And so on and so on. If you pray, please pray for resolutions to this political stand-off; we may not be a target but all these additional hoops to jump through ultimately impact our ability to provide assistance to those most in need.

The Realities of War

This week one of my field days was to Qayyarah. Just a regular visit. As we approached the area, we found ourselves surrounded in all directions by military vehicles. There were vehicles full of soldiers, there were pick up trucks with rocket launchers fixed in the back, there were flat bed trucks stacked with boxes of ammunition, there were tanks, there were military humvees, there were trucks stacked with food supplies. We knew it would be like this, we were anticipating the launch of a new offensive against ISIS in an area called Hawiga. And it's not exactly the first time I've seen this kind to troop movement. But as I watched all the movements, all these different armed groups (it's not as simple as the Army, RAF and Navy - we have all different ethnic factions with their own groups of fighters, their own flags, their own unique goal in mind) it struck me again what a truly dirty war this is.

Earlier in the week I was in my office listening to some new security information that staff had learned and we were trying to decide whether to suspend movements in an area based on these rumours. I was told in some detail (before I had a chance to say I didn't want to hear the specifics) of the torture that had been carried out on a captured ISIS fighter in order to try and glean information about sleeper cells.

As I watched all these men heading off to new frontlines this week, and thought about the treatment of those captured; I just kept thinking 'all of these men are sons, fathers, brothers, friends'. They are all leaving someone behind praying for their safe return. That's the reality of what is happening here and it's heartbreaking. If you pray, please continue to pray for peace in this country.

Mine Risk Education

I think I have mentioned on here before the issue of mines and explosives in this country. The years of different conflicts have left the land littered with unexploded bombs and mines. The latest conflict has seen a truly evil use of explosives hidden in children's toys, abandoned house, religious books etc; as well as the usual remnants of weapons that have failed to detonate. All of this puts populations at huge risk. I can't tell you how many stories we hear of children picking things up that then explode, or families returning to homes they have fled to find them booby trapped.

Part of my organisations work is highly specialised mine action work. This includes mine clearance, but in this post I want to tell you about Mine Risk Education (MRE). If you were returning home after fleeing during a conflict would you be able to spot potential dangers? Would your kiddies know how to stay safe? And how would you train them without scaring them?

This is where the incredible work of MRE comes in to play. We have teams that go in to pre-schools, schools, community centres, any where they can find groups of children or adults gathered regularly and teaches them about how to spot potential mines, how to report the sighting to the right agency, how to mark it so others are aware, and how to deal with an emergency. They do all this in fun, interactive ways that keep people's attention and helps them remember what they have learned.

Recently I went and watched an MRE session in a primary school and was astounded by the way the team made such important but difficult lessons accessible to kids. It reminded me of watching earthquake safety lessons in Haiti - children really are knowledge sponges. It's impossible to know what the true impact of this work is, but I really believe that it is a critical part of recovering from conflict.

P.S. Apologies for the awful quality photo - it's hard to get a photo of kids that doesn't show their faces when you're the foreigner in the room!

Water

Water - we all know it's the source of life. In Iraq, water is pretty scarce. You wouldn't know if from the amount of pavement watering that goes on in the summer months, but the reality is that in certain areas we suffer huge water shortages. Add to this the increased demand due to heat and the need for additional water for religious washing; and suddenly safe water provision is critical.

One of the areas that the Danish Refugee Council has developed expertise in within Iraq is water infrastructure. This means that our water and sanitation (WASH) teams not only work at providing latrines, showers, household water tanks, hygiene items and so on, as is standard in this kind of work; but we also take on large scale construction projects to develop the water infrastructure. The WASH team in my areas have been doing quite a bit of this recently. Last week, they triumphantly returned to the office from Western Mosul with a bottle of water from a pumping station which we have rehabilitated. It had just been turned on, and is now supplying about half of Western Mosul with water.

A few months ago, we took on a project to build from scratch a water pumping station and treatment unit on the banks of the Tigris to supply our camp with water, and the surrounding villages. This kind of work has the double whammy effect of assisting displaced people, but also helping the country as a whole to recover from years of conflict and damage. It helps to mitigate the tensions between those who are displaced and the communities they are taking refuge in; as all benefit, rather than just those who are displaced. We are currently operating this plant ourselves, but we are also training government workers who will take on management of the plant in a few months time. The team have put significant effort in to writing manuals in the local Arabic language, equipping the teams with the right kind of tools and doing hands on training so that when we leave the unit continues operating well.

A couple of weeks ago I took our Regional Director on a tour of our work, including the treatment plant. This was the first time I had seen it since it had been completed. I had hoped to visit earlier, but ISIS had made some territorial gains in the area meaning it was not safe for us to visit for a few weeks. We had to remotely manage our staff there, who incredibly were still working despite having to hide out in the office in the compound sometimes to avoid being caught up in cross-fire. Thankfully the area has been re-secured by Iraqi forces and so now we are able to visit, and our staff can travel freely between home and work again. Even more wonderfully, the local Sheikh was able to prevent any looting of the compound during the instability and so we had no repairs to do once we could access it again.

It really is quite an impressive piece of engineering. It pumps out 200,000 litres of treated water every hour, and runs for around 10 hours a day currently. The only way to describe it is to show you some photos.

The intake unit on the Tigris - draws the raw river water in to the water treatment unit. To the left of the foreground is the old intake unit for the previous water treatment plant which was destroyed by ISIS as you can see.

Overview of the water treatment unit showing multiple pipelines.

Looking down in to some of the holding tanks.

Chlorination system in the white tank, large blue tanks in the background are the holding tanks.

Making a house a home

For most people fleeing their homes one of the most urgent needs is shelter. If you arrive at a camp this is for the most part sorted for you (albeit not particularly adequately a lot of the time). However, many displaced people do not live in camps. This happens for many reasons: they might not be able to physically reach a camp because it's too far, they might not be allowed to enter certain areas due to ethnic tensions, they might prefer to try and find somewhere to live out of the camp context to try and maintain some normalcy to their lives.

One of the projects in my area therefore is working with families who are displaced but not living in camps, to try and improve their shelter conditions. In Iraq, due to the pre-crisis context, there are huge numbers of unfinished construction works. Most people here build their own home at some point, and many people were doing just this when the latest crisis struck. At this point construction generally halted - either the families themselves moved away, often overseas; or there was simply suddenly no money to continue. Villages, towns and cities are therefore full of displaced people squatting in unfinished buildings. These are buildings which are at different stages of completion, but typically will be missing windows and doors, will be made simply of breeze-blocks that would have been concreted over later, are not connected to power or water, have no kitchens or bathrooms and may be missing internal walls among other issues. Often several families will be living in a single building together, and will pool resources to try and make things vaguely habitable. They may have received NFI (non-food item) kits of mattresses, blankets, kitchen utensils etc that they can use in the house. Different charities have provided different things like putting in pit latrines outside so that people at least have a private toilet, or providing tarpaulins to cover windows and doors to try to weather-proof the building a little.

DRC (my charity) has been working on some slightly more substantial upgrades to houses in certain areas. As always, there's never enough to go around, and so the selection criteria that were agreed with the donor for the project are pretty strict. We are focusing on over-crowded buildings which can reach a certain level of upgrade at a cost of up to $2,000 per building. Selecting contractors to carry out the work turned in to an enormous saga (possibly the understatement of the year), and so last week I was thrilled to go and see the work in action which I have been discussing and planning with the team for so long.

We are working primarily on putting in proper windows and doors, connecting houses to electricity and water, putting in very basic kitchens and bathrooms, installing stair rails and ceiling fans. The difference that it makes for such a relatively small amount of money is phenomenal. Families say it quite literally transforms their lives as they feel safer, gain personal space, and are able to cope with the extremes of weather better. I particularly loved seeing some little touches that families were able to make that were turning their houses in to homes - hanging empty food tins with plants in them, pinning up a mirror or some plastic flowers. People have almost zero belongings and yet were still able to take pride in their homes, and to add personal touches here and there.

Here are a few photos to give you an idea of the context.....

Iraq Landscape

Digging cess pits

New kitchen 

Kitchen Cabinets

I loved these hanging tins of plants on the outside wall of one house

New shower

Adding railings to stairs and landing

New safety railings

Always say yes to chai

I know I've spoken about this before, but one of the things that always amazes me is the generosity of people here. It brings in to stark contrast the consumerist and individualist culture we have in the west.

Last week I visited the camp for some general monitoring. I was with some of the team in an area of the camp looking at a small piece of unused land, discussing how we could use it best to provide some shops for this far end of the camp. As usual a little crowd of adults gathered a short distance from us, and kids swarmed around us. A blonde-haired female boss is always a sight to behold in these parts. As we went to return to our car (the camp is so big we have to drive around it), one of the ladies who had been watching us invited us to her tent for chai. It was one of those moments where you have a difficult choice to make. I was on a schedule, as were the staff with me. It was 45 degrees outside. Chai didn't really fit with our plans. But one thing I have learned here is that drinking chai with people is usually a good decision. So I said yes (with a caveat of 'a 5 minute chai please').

There was immediately a flurry of activity as thin mattresses were put down on the tent floor for us to sit on. We went in to the tent, and sat down on the concrete. Many people joined us, and the children flocked around each end of the tent blocking all air flow. The temperature got higher and higher. Water was passed around while the tea was made. Sugar was spooned in to the little glasses, and the tea poured on top. We talked about schooling, how to cope in these circumstances in the heat, how to manage cooking for a family in this weather. We took selfies on each others' phones and laughed at the results.

As I sat in that little tent, with a family who's entire possessions fit in a little corner of the space; I was struck again by their generosity. A mother who struggled to feed her children, used precious sugar and tea to make me a glass of chai. A family who had been displaced from their home spent time welcoming me in to their new house. And as I received their generosity, in a back to front way, I brought them joy.

Being generous looks different to all of us, depending on our circumstances, and on the circumstances of those we are showing generosity to. It can be as simple as giving your time and friendship to those who are lonely. It can be sharing something precious to you with another. It can be financial gifts. I am learning that choosing to be generous brings me joy, even if it seems sacrificial on paper. And accepting other's generosity towards me brings them joy. Basically always say yes to those chai moments, however they present themselves.

Choose not to forget

This week, the Iraqi Prime Minister declared the battle for Mosul over. He traveled to the city to congratulate the military forces on their successful fight to re-capture the city from ISIS. This news then popped up on my facebook feed from multiple friends in the West sharing various reports. Interestingly, none of my local friends shared the story on social media. We didn't even really discuss it in the office. For those of us so close to the fight, still caught up in responding to the effects of war, still seeing multiple reports every day of attacks inside Mosul, still choosing to head in to areas full of destruction in order to provide what services we can; it is too early to celebrate. We know that this is not the end. We know that re-building Mosul is going to take years. We know that there are further battles for land across Iraq to be fought - Tel Afar, Anbar, Hawiga. All places you are probably not even hearing about. We have already seen in the last two weeks a massive up-surge in the number of suicide attacks carried out by ISIS in Iraq. This will be the tactic they use now. 10 days ago a suicide bomber disguised as a female IDP blew himself up inside a camp. Late last week ISIS launched an attack on a village 2km south of our camp, they took everyone by surprise, forcibly abducting residents, bringing them back behind frontlines, and then sending them back to their village with explosives strapped to them. The locals couldn't repel them and now ISIS have controlled that village for several days. I have no doubt that in a few days the Iraqi Army will have pushed them back again, but it's a stark reminder of the resources ISIS still have. These are just two incidents out of tens of incidents we have heard about in the last 2 weeks.

So please do celebrate the re-capture of Mosul. It is truly good news for those who were living under ISIS control against their will. But please don't forget to pray for the re-building of that city and this country. Don't forget those who continue to live under ISIS control in other parts of Iraq. Remember families who have been torn apart by this war. Choose not to forget even if the news coverage moves on.

Home

A much lighter blog today as I'm in England for my R&R. Beyond getting to see wonderful family and friends, here are some of the things I love about coming home:

1. Flushing toilet paper down the loo rather than putting it in a bin.
2. Not having to deal with a bin of dirty toilet paper.
3. Green. You have no idea just how green England is compared to much of the world.
4. Wall to wall carpet.
5. Having a bath.
6. The total lack of guns.
7. Not seeing military personnel all over the place.
8. All sorts of food - pork, prawns, fresh fish.
9. Late sunsets.
10. Being allowed to go where-ever I want when-ever I want.
11. Not automatically doing currency conversions in my head every time I'm in a shop.
12. The beach.
13. Flowers.
14. Weather - all the seasons in one day. 
15. Drivers who use indicators and generally follow road markings.
16. Using credit cards anywhere rather than having to remember cash.
17. No check points.
18. How quickly traffic lights change.
19. People saying things like 'I'll just have a quick wee love'.
20. BBC iplayer.

Uncertain Future

I have no idea what you're hearing in the west about Iraq at the moment. I don't manage to keep up that well with other news except what I get from reading The Week. But here, the battle for Mosul continues. ISIS still control a handful of neighbourhoods in Western Mosul, in the old part of the city. These are densely populated areas and it's estimated that over 100,000 people are still trapped. Both sides have shored up their defences, and it looks like this could be a grim slog to free the last areas. The battle progressed pretty fast until this point, but now it's almost at a standstill. The army are literally fighting metre by metre. The number of people managing to escape has shrunk to a trickle and the stories they can tell are harrowing. ISIS are using people as human shields in many areas, and I won't repeat here what we hear about other atrocities. Just know that the more desperate ISIS get, the more horrendous their crimes.

As they are battling in Mosul, ISIS are also ramping up attacks elsewhere in Iraq. Our teams in Baghdad are under tighter security restrictions as the number of car bombs has spiked. I have had to put an entire new programming area to the west of Hawiga off limits as ISIS have started to use drones to drop explosives, and over this weekend launched an assault on the area - there were at least 30 suicide bombers detonating themselves on Saturday.

I know I've said it before, but the battle for Mosul really isn't the end here. This country is facing a lot of uncertainty ahead. This kind of ideology doesn't disappear with geographical boundaries. It just goes underground and hides. It leaves it's legacy behind in traumatised people who live in fear. It leaves widows and children who are shunned by their communities, because of what their husbands and fathers have done. It contributes to a society where weapons are normal, and solving problems through violence is standard. And then, as it goes underground, we are left with the same issues from before, the same sectarian divides, the same power plays, the same economic mismanagement. We have to find other ways to fight this at it's roots. If you pray, please continue to pray for the Middle East, particularly Iraq and Syria.

Mourn with those who mourn

This week a close friend here lost one of her team in a car accident At the same time a close friend at home lost an aunt suddenly, just a couple of weeks after another close friend had lost her aunt unexpectedly. Add to that my staff member who has just come back to work after an absence he took to mourn his wife and child who died from burns sustained from an exploding gas bottle. Another staff member who had to fly back to Denmark to bury his father. Then Manchester and London. The multiple times a day my phone pings to tell me about another attack in Iraq. The massive attack in Baghdad a week ago, and one in Kabul. The old Iraq house-mate who is working with Operation Mercy and part of their team responding to the attack on their Kabul office where staff were killed and abducted. This morning I heard about 15 families who arrived at our camp last night with multiple injuries, including a child who was hit by a sniper. Sometimes the bad news just feels a bit unrelenting.

In this part of the world this level of tragedy is just part of life. It's so normal to everyone. And maybe that's why they are actually good at mourning with those who mourn. There's no awkwardness. There's no ignoring what's happened. There's no empty platitudes. There's a lot of tears. There's a commitment to visiting bereaved family and friends and entering in to their sadness with them. There's an openness about grief, it doesn't get hidden away like something awkward.

And of course if you know how to mourn with those who mourn, you probably also know how to rejoice with those who rejoice. My Mum, whom none of my staff have met, has a birthday in May and so suddenly at the May birthday celebration her name is on the cake, along with another expat's new baby who is back in Holland with his mum. It's why we all eat baklava every time someone gets engaged and celebrate with them. It's why when you get married you invite everyone you know, and everyone they know.

As a Brit (we are an awkward species), I can learn a lot from my friends here in this respect. Mourning with those who mourn and rejoicing with those who rejoice is actually about loving that person first and putting their news, their needs above your own. It's about not caring that it's uncomfortable to sit with friends who are grieving, struggling with depression or disappointment, because somehow your presence shows your love for them even if you have no words to offer. It's about rejoicing with friends who have wonderful news, even if what they are celebrating is something that you yourself have longed for. If necessary you put a mask on to rejoice with them, because in their moment of happiness it needs to be about exactly that. (Then you go home and have a good cry if you need to). It's always about putting others before yourself. If my time here in this corner of the world helps me to grow in that respect then it will be worth every sacrifice it has cost in other ways.

Grapes

I live in a flat in my city, the ground floor of a two storey house which means I get the little garden. When I first looked around it before I moved in, it had this crazy grape vine over the outside of the house, providing a lot of shade. I loved it and it was one of the main reasons why I said yes to the house - I had images in my head of sitting outside in the spring and summer (and autumn and winter) under that vine, enjoying the dappled sunlight coming through.

When I moved in to the house I was gutted to see that the owner, in between tenants, had pruned the vine to what seemed an unbelievable level. It had been pulled off the walls it was climbing, and stripped right back to it's most basic branches. I was so sad. All through the autumn and winter, friends and I would sit on my patio and sadly comment on the vine. About how unutterably dead it looked. It seemed totally hopeless. We couldn't imagine it having any chance of growing leaves. And if I can be completely honest for a minute, without sounding too dramatic, it kind of echoed what I felt deep down too. I found this winter in Iraq my hardest. I was struggling with my job which no longer felt exciting and instead just felt overwhelming. I felt like all I did was work, eat, sleep, repeat. I struggled to find time for friends, and if I didn't do incredibly high levels of overtime I felt like I was failing the staff working for me and the people we're trying to help. Basically I just got in to a bit of a sad rut.

Spring arrived and a few leaves started to bud on the vine. I couldn't believe it. There was a tiny bit of life coming out of no where. And guess what? At the same time my own spirits began to lift. I made some personal decisions around what I wanted my life here to be like, about how to look after myself (remember that blog I wrote on self-care?); and slowly I started to feel like I was coming back to life.

Summer has now arrived, seemingly overnight. And suddenly my vine has bunches of grapes on it. Where did they come from? I can't believe how quickly it has gone from bare branches to this beautiful, green plant with fruit hanging on it. It has started to re-climb the walls, and the sunlight is dappled as it shines through it. And, you've guessed it, I feel back to normal too. I'm enjoying my job again, and my life outside of work too. I went away with my prayer trio this weekend, we just took a couple of nights away in a different city, far from the fighting and gave ourselves a break. We talked about work but we didn't open laptops. Instead we shopped in the bazaar, went up a mountain, ate good food, swam, chatted and prayed. When I got home from the weekend and looked at my vine, for the first time in months I felt properly anchored. I felt the presence of God. But I know that He was with me in the time when the vine looked dead. He was there, working on the unseen. Even when I didn't feel connected spiritually He was faithfully sustaining me. He has used this place, this work, to shape my faith, to mold me in a new way. It's not always easy. But just as the farmer will prune his vine to a degree which seems crazy to the untrained eye, in order to strengthen the new growth; so living here this last winter was a kind of pruning for me. Those grapes are a reminder that no matter how hard or how long the winter, it will end. Summer is coming with all it's goodness.

Prejudice

I've been in Amman this week for a workshop (and now at the Dead Sea for a treat day) and it got me thinking about my first visit here back in 2013. At the time I was working in London on the Tearfund Syria response, and I was part of a team that came to Jordan and Lebanon to assess the first projects we undertook through local partners to see if we agreed that our strategy was appropriate, to assess whether Tearfund was adding value to the general response to the refugee crisis in the way we thought we were.

I had never been to the Middle East. Growing up, I remember finding the whole concept of the Middle East or the '20/40 window' quite terrifying. I thought it would be the last place I would voluntarily travel to. I'm pretty ashamed of my ignorance now. In the Christian community in the UK at the time I think there was a mystery around the Middle East, a feeling of fear of the unknown and of Islam. To an extent I think this continues today, although I have many friends who are working hard to change this.

So even in 2013, when I traveled to Jordan and Lebanon for the first time, having mainly worked in Africa and Haiti up to that point, I was excited but nervous. Looking back I think that trip is what started me on this particular journey in a way. It was my first experience of working on a refugee crisis, the first time I sat with people displaced by war and heard their stories. The cultures I was visiting were completely foreign to me. So different to anything I had seen before. I remember finding Lebanon significantly easier than Jordan, and on the inside thinking that I didn't think I could live in Jordan - it was a touch too far on the Middle East spectrum for me at the time. But that trip broke me. I can vividly remember visiting refugee families living in what had been a large factory-scale chicken coop, and thinking how unutterably sad it was that a farmer was making more money renting out his space to people than rearing chickens. I remember being blown away by the teams I met in Jordan working with highly traumatised children, providing safe spaces for them to start to process what they had been through. That trip was the first time I understood that in this part of the world war is broadcast live on TV, and that entire families will sit transfixed watching the battle progress in the land they have fled. I came back to the UK incredibly unwell physically, and without fully realising it at the time, I was pretty unwell mentally too. A few weeks later I had a counselling session at work and just broke down - everything I had bottled up came flooding out on this poor woman across the room from me.

Fast forward a year and I was out in Iraq for the first time, and my heart towards the Middle East had already changed. I was in Italy on holiday with my good friend Becca when I got a text message to tell me that Tearfund had made the decision to respond to the crisis in Iraq. Becca regularly reminds me that I said 'I think they're going to ask me to go', and that to her amazement I was excited about that possibility. Sure enough, I got back to the office after our holiday and was immediately asked to consider joining the emergency response team. I said yes straight away and off I went.

After 2 and a half years in Iraq, I came back to Amman for this training. It amazes me that I previously thought I wouldn't want to live here. Now it feels so normal and like it could quite easily be home for me (don't worry Mum, I'm not suggesting that I move here). I tell this story as I'm feeling pretty ashamed of my ignorance, my fear and my prejudice I used to have towards this part of the world. In Iraq I have found a people who are incredibly hospitable, the most generous culture. I have found people who are proud of their ancestry, but tolerant towards others. I have celebrated Persian New Year, Coptic Christmas, Yazidi New Year, Islamic Eid's; and had gifts given to me by people of other faiths for my Easter. I definitely still don't understand all the dynamics at play, the history, the cultures (I never will); but along with Southern Africa, the Middle East has claimed a bit of me for itself. And I am a richer person for that.

Who needs cash?

Imagine you had to leave your home and flee to a different place for safety. Imagine you’ve already spent any savings you had, you’ve already sold your jewelry and spent what that brought in. You reach a safe place and find an empty building to squat in. You were given an emergency kit of food, water and hygiene items but this only lasted you a week. You have to ask for a line of credit in the local shop in order to get some flour to make bread with. You need to buy some basic medicines and some tarpaulin to try and seal off the empty windows in your house.

At this point, what do you need most? Cash. Cash is what you need. We could give you a pre-defined kit of something like cooking equipment and household items, but you may not need everything we would give you and so you would end up selling some of the items at a lower than market value in order to get the cash you need to buy the things your family really needs. We could give you a pre-defined food parcel, but this would not allow you to cater for the specific spices or ingredients that your family likes.

In a place like Iraq, where businesses and shops are the first things to re-open when areas are re-captured, giving people cash in some form is almost always the best option compared to giving actual items. It is a double-whammy of good programming – it gives people choice and dignity, and it supports the local economy. It is also efficient from the donor’s point of view – we don’t have to spend time and money procuring items, storing them in warehouses, paying to truck them to distribution sites etc. And even when we know what people need is warm clothes for winter, how much better it is to do what Tearfund did this year. Instead of giving bags of pre-selected clothes to families, hoping they’d swap them around between themselves to find things that fit their needs (as many agencies do), Tearfund invited a clothes trader to come and set up a mobile shop in a big tent. Then they gave each family a voucher to spend in the shop, and a bag to put their selected items in. How much more dignified to be able to go and browse and choose what you need. Of course, we can’t always work like this, but when we can, we should.

Last week we did our first cash distribution inside Mosul. It was quite a momentous occasion as highly vulnerable families received the equivalent of $400 each to help them purchase the essentials they need to help them get back on their feet following their recent displacement. As we listened to the mortars falling nearby, I was so humbled to see the respect with which my staff treated each individual, with how peacefully everyone waited their turn to receive their cash, and the clear relief when they walked away. People who had lost everything, who are living in such incredibly difficult circumstances now have a tiny bit of control back. Men can once again provide something of what their families need. Mothers can breathe a little easier. It’s not much, and it's not the only way we should be helping, but I’m convinced that it’s so much better than a box of stuff that we selected on their behalf.

All this is why I find it so hard to see the clothing collections going on in the UK at the moment for Iraq. I understand that it’s nice to feel a tangible connection with your giving. I understand that giving your unwanted clothes gives you the impression that you are avoiding waste (both because your clothes are ‘recycled’ and because you imagine that the costs associated with this kind of aid are low). But is it the best for the person you are trying to help? Is it the best for the country where you are sending it? And is it even financially savvy? The cost of trucking items all the way here is phenomenal. Clothes here can be inexpensive, they come from Turkey – they cross just a single border to get here. You have the opportunity to provide dignity to those who so desperately need it, as well as supporting the wider re-building of the Iraq economy by giving your money to agencies like DRC and Tearfund (and many others) who prioritise cash programming as much as possible. 

P.S. For the most part giving is giving. You are not actually doing harm to vulnerable people by sending second hand clothes here. I'm just trying to provoke you in to thinking it through a bit more, and putting the needs of the recipient before your need to feel useful. Not everyone will agree with me, and that's fine :-) 

Imagine

In this post, I have weaved together fragments of different stories I've heard over the last 2 years. This specific story is therefore fictional, but it is based on the reality of life on the ground for people here. I hope it helps you to put yourself in to the shoes of your fellow man. 

Imagine you live in a big city. You've always lived there, you grew up here, you married here, you started your own family here. You have a nice house, and because your parents are elderly, they live with you, your wife and your 3 children here. You work in construction, and are quite senior in the business. Or rather you were, until it went bankrupt because of the current crisis. You've been living under ISIS rule for almost 3 years. During that time you have had to make incredibly tough decisions for your family - how much should you go along with the new regime for the sake of relative safety? Should you continue to send your children to school and risk them being impacted by horrendous propaganda, or keep them home? Which of your neighbours can you really trust now? You used to know them all, and live harmoniously together but now you don't know who the informers are. You don't know how long this will go on for. You know now that you should have left before all this started. That's the benefit of hindsight. At the time you had no idea it would be like this. You've lived through so many different regimes and crises that you thought this would be ok. 

As supply routes become restricted prices escalate. Slowly at first, and then quicker. You have a small amount of cash saved in your house and you use this now to purchase the essentials you need to feed your family. But prices continue to rise and you are still stuck. So now you have to start to sell or trade your less essential belongings. Jewelry, sewing machine, TV, furniture, white goods. Whatever you can live without gets sold over time. As you get more desperate so do ISIS. They start to carry out house searches to try and find food for themselves. You know that hiding food is punishable by death - you have to choose to either try to find some genius hiding place, or to give up what little you have. It's been illegal to have a mobile phone since the beginning of this whole thing, but you have managed to keep yours by hiding it inside the TV. But now you need to sell the TV, so you need to find a new hiding place for the phone. You can't afford to lose it - it's your only link to the outside world, and if you ever manage to get out of here, it's how you will try and locate your wider family who have already escaped. You know that if you are found to have a phone you will be executed.  

One of your children becomes very sick. You think it's because the water that is coming out of your house taps is no longer treated. You have been boiling it for drinking, but now your youngest child, just a toddler, has horrendous diahhrhea. She needs medicine. You ask around to try and find a contact who might have something for her as the pharmacies closed months ago when stocks of even basic medicines ran out. You finally find someone who can get you what you need. But you can't afford the price. You speak to the neighbours you feel you can trust and between you, you manage to scrape together the cash you need. You daughter's health improves with the treatment, but she is not fully recovered.

As food supplies become more restricted you start to pool what you have with neighbours to try and ensure that at least the children are fed. Adults begin to intentionally reduce their intake so that the children can have what they need. 

You hear rumours that the front lines are moving. The fighting is getting closer to you. Leaflets are dropped from the sky telling you that liberation is coming but that you should stay where you are and wait. You don't know whether to trust what is written. As neighbours you discuss continually whether to risk an escape attempt. You've heard the stories of what happens to those caught trying to escape. You've been forced to watch the public executions. But you also know that if you stay you risk being used as a human shield as ISIS tries to defend itself. You know that ISIS has rounded up whole neighbourhoods when the army is approaching, and forcibly moved them further in to their areas of stronghold. 

Eventually, with the sound of war getting closer every day, you agree as a group to try to leave. But what about your elderly parents who can barely walk? They are already weak from hunger and stress. You are going to have to leave under the cover of darkness and move quickly. They will slow you down, possibly to a fatal extent. In the end you agree with them that they will stay 'to keep the house safe'. You are appointed the leader of your escape group of 30 people. You need to make various contacts in order to make your way out of your neighbourhood to safety. You need people at various points alerting you to potential danger. You carefully arrange things and agree a night to make the attempt. As a group you agree what to take with you - basically your phones and the clothes on your backs, along with any small items which have value and could be sold later and any ID documentation you have managed to keep. Small babies will be drugged to stop them crying out. One of the men in your group used to be an Iraqi policeman and is therefore wanted by ISIS. He agrees to dress as a woman for the journey.

On the appointed day you hear that ISIS have been moving sniper positions. The escape attempt must be delayed until your contacts understand more. You re-set the date for 2 days time. The day arrives, and this time you are given the green light to make the attempt. You say your goodbyes to your parents, and begin the journey. It must done in absolute silence to avoid detection. You move through the streets slowly, hugging the walls as you go, moving through alleyways. You have been moving for about 30 minutes when the tail end of the group is spotted by a sniper on a roof. He starts firing. You see 3, maybe 4 people fall including a child. There is nothing you can do. To approach will alert the sniper to your presence. You simply have to watch in silence. You allow the group to move past you, and as the end of the group comes through, there are 2 wounded people - one has a bullet to the shoulder and one to the hip. You have no medical supplies, but you use clothing to try and stem the bleeding. The human convoy must continue. You cannot stop. Eventually, 6 hours after setting off, having covered only 5km, you reach the mustering point set up by the Iraqi army to receive escapees. The relief is overwhelming. The soldiers search you to make sure you are not carrying explosives. You join a queue of hundreds of people awaiting processing. You check on your group. You lost 4 on the journey, and 2 are injured. You try to alert the soldiers that you have injured people in your group, they come and take a look. The injuries are stable and so they tell you that you must wait. There are only ambulances for the most emergency cases. After a few hours, you are given places on a bus which will take you to a screening centre where you will undergo fuller security screening by National Intelligence. 

The screening centre is huge. There are people everywhere. The staff separate your group in to men and adolescent boys, and women and children. The women and children are sent to a different area to wait for you. The men and boys are taken in to the screening area. Here your name is checked against a myriad of databases to see if you are suspected of terrorist activities. Even though you know your are innocent, you breathe a sigh of relief when you are found to be clear and released to re-join your family. Over the next few hours the group is gradually re-unified as the men and boys are released. Finally you are just waiting for one man. He doesn't appear. Instead the group is moved on to another bus and taken to a camp. His wife is distraught at having to leave him behind but there is no choice. You remind yourselves that at least you have your phones so once he is released he will be able to call you and find out where you have ended up.

You arrive at the camp. It's now 24 hours since you left your house. The camp management ask you all to wait in a large warehouse while they process you and allocate you a tent. Once again you draw attention to the injured people in your party, and the camp management team call the camp ambulance. Finally the injured will receive some treatment. It takes some hours, but you do get a tent. Despite it being the middle of the night, there is also a team giving out life-saving food and water rations as well as some hygiene items so you can at least wash. You also receive a coupon for a large kit of things like mattresses and blankets, but you cannot claim this until the following day, so for now you sleep on the bare concrete floor of the tent. You and your wife try to settle your children. Despite being exhausted, they have started to have nightmares and so the night is long as you try to calm them each time they wake up screaming.

The next day you offer to try to help the family of the missing man locate him. You go to the camp management office and ask them to help. They take the details down and say they will try and find out where he is, but that it's unlikely that they will be able to. You make your own inquiries around the camp. You start to understand the system and hope that he is simply being held for further questioning and will be sent to the camp as soon as he is cleared. In the meantime you assist the family in collecting their kit, and collect your own. You use some of your precious money to purchase some flour for your wife to make some bread with. You try to come to terms with your new normal. 

A week later you hear that a bus of men and boys has arrived at the camp from the screening site. The arrivals are kept outside of the camp unless they have families inside. You go with the wife to camp management to see if her husband is on the bus. It takes a while, but eventually, you hear he is and the family is reunited. 

As the weeks go on, you settle in to camp life. The children start to attend a kind of club where they get to play and be kids. You manage to get a few days of work here and there - sometimes doing garbage collection, sometimes doing construction labour in the town. You are bringing in just enough money to keep the family fed. You get to know your new neighbours. It's not home but it's safe. You have no idea how long you will need to stay here. As soon as it's safe you will try and go home, if you still have a home to go to. Thankfully for now, your network of contacts has managed to get news to you that your parents are still safe. Your wife has a full time job on her hands trying to keep the tent clean - 5 people in a small room is a challenge, and the family fed and watered. Life is different here, and it's a lot of change to get used to. But you are no longer woken by the sound of airstrikes and artillery; and that can only be a good thing.