Syrian Assistance visited Turkey and Syria, this is a report by our project manager describing our activities during this time. Detailed reports will follow over the coming days.
We met in Istanbul airport, each coming from a different country. Together, we continued our journey to Hatay. Our work agenda was full for the 6 day visit, and we tried to be as organised as the situation would allow. We had 2 aims: to meet people and aid organisations working on the ground to help the Syrian people (both Syrian and Turkish); and to get aid, if possible, inside Syria.
When the plane landed in Hatay airport, my colleague had tears in his eyes. He was close to his homeland, Syria.
Day one: We went immediately to Antakya clinic hospital, a Syrian hospital funded by Orient (Syrian humanitarian organisation), where there are more than 100 patients. This 3 storey clinic is allowed to receive Syrian patients from Turkish hospitals, public or private, only for rehabilitation or post-operative recovery. According to Turkish law, Syrian doctors are not allowed to perform surgery or to open normal hospitals, only clinics for rehabilitation and post-operative recovery.
The injured and post-operative patients have to return home after treatment and most of them live in the refugee camps. These are not ideal places for recovery, especially as most of those Syrians injured have severe conditions e.g. burns, abdominal injuries, spinal injuries and amputations. In the refugee camps post-operative patients are at a high risk of contracting infections, gangrene, health deterioration etc.
Dr Martini, head of the Orient humanitarian organisation, gave us an initial briefing on the difficulties they are facing. Syrian doctors and surgeons are available in large numbers, some coming from inside of Syria and others from abroad. Most of them are very experienced yet aren’t allowed to perform surgery nor give medical intervention. They do try, however, to cope with the force majeure situation that brings new priorities daily. Dr Martini told us that most of the injured have crossed from Syria without official documentation, passports or ID. They therefore do not qualify for refugee papers here that could enable them to go abroad where some specialised hospitals are willing to provide treatment. This applies especially to the most critical cases where there might have a better chance of recovery He said to us “ You have to see it for yourselves to have a clearer picture of the situation, visit the injured here and go and see Rehaniye convalescence clinic also..”. His advice was good, as now we understood much more of the situation on the ground after our journey.
Later in the day we learned that some patients in the Turkish hospitals died due to the inexperience of the Turkish medical staff in the Turkish public hospitals. They are receiving a large number of the Syrians injured daily and amputation is the easiest way for inexperienced doctors to treat cases that have infections or complex surgical requirements etc.
In the Antakya clinic we met Maram, Basmala and Mohamed and also many more ‘hard to see’ cases that cannot be treated adequately. Cases of paralysis due to shrapnel, bullets lodged in the spine, or head injuries etc. Most of them are young; some still have great morale and others less. The injured fighters just want to recover and then return to Syria. Some of these will never walk again, I wondered whether they knew really their condition or just ignored it.
The doctors we met carry the smile of serenity typical of doctors in general, but their eyes showed fatigue and much sadness. Each one of them came here to help but then cannot do as much as they would like due to this unfair law. I saw them taking the injured to the Turkish hospitals and bringing back from there after surgery. There will be, of course, a follow up report of the patients mentioned.
We met in Istanbul airport, each coming from a different country. Together, we continued our journey to Hatay. Our work agenda was full for the 6 day visit, and we tried to be as organised as the situation would allow. We had 2 aims: to meet people and aid organisations working on the ground to help the Syrian people (both Syrian and Turkish); and to get aid, if possible, inside Syria.
When the plane landed in Hatay airport, my colleague had tears in his eyes. He was close to his homeland, Syria.
Day one: We went immediately to Antakya clinic hospital, a Syrian hospital funded by Orient (Syrian humanitarian organisation), where there are more than 100 patients. This 3 storey clinic is allowed to receive Syrian patients from Turkish hospitals, public or private, only for rehabilitation or post-operative recovery. According to Turkish law, Syrian doctors are not allowed to perform surgery or to open normal hospitals, only clinics for rehabilitation and post-operative recovery.
The injured and post-operative patients have to return home after treatment and most of them live in the refugee camps. These are not ideal places for recovery, especially as most of those Syrians injured have severe conditions e.g. burns, abdominal injuries, spinal injuries and amputations. In the refugee camps post-operative patients are at a high risk of contracting infections, gangrene, health deterioration etc.
Dr Martini, head of the Orient humanitarian organisation, gave us an initial briefing on the difficulties they are facing. Syrian doctors and surgeons are available in large numbers, some coming from inside of Syria and others from abroad. Most of them are very experienced yet aren’t allowed to perform surgery nor give medical intervention. They do try, however, to cope with the force majeure situation that brings new priorities daily. Dr Martini told us that most of the injured have crossed from Syria without official documentation, passports or ID. They therefore do not qualify for refugee papers here that could enable them to go abroad where some specialised hospitals are willing to provide treatment. This applies especially to the most critical cases where there might have a better chance of recovery He said to us “ You have to see it for yourselves to have a clearer picture of the situation, visit the injured here and go and see Rehaniye convalescence clinic also..”. His advice was good, as now we understood much more of the situation on the ground after our journey.
Later in the day we learned that some patients in the Turkish hospitals died due to the inexperience of the Turkish medical staff in the Turkish public hospitals. They are receiving a large number of the Syrians injured daily and amputation is the easiest way for inexperienced doctors to treat cases that have infections or complex surgical requirements etc.
In the Antakya clinic we met Maram, Basmala and Mohamed and also many more ‘hard to see’ cases that cannot be treated adequately. Cases of paralysis due to shrapnel, bullets lodged in the spine, or head injuries etc. Most of them are young; some still have great morale and others less. The injured fighters just want to recover and then return to Syria. Some of these will never walk again, I wondered whether they knew really their condition or just ignored it.
The doctors we met carry the smile of serenity typical of doctors in general, but their eyes showed fatigue and much sadness. Each one of them came here to help but then cannot do as much as they would like due to this unfair law. I saw them taking the injured to the Turkish hospitals and bringing back from there after surgery. There will be, of course, a follow up report of the patients mentioned.
Day two: We went to Rehanyli, which is approximately 60 km from Antakya. It’s very close to Idlib and its outskirts and the border crossing here is at Bab El Hawa. It looks like a town inhabited by injured Syrians. We saw many of them walking the streets on crutches or wearing medical bandages, we recognised them immediately. Every once in a while the sounds of ambulances could be heard, transporting the injured.
The hospital/clinic that we visited was full of the injured. We met a Belgian nurse called Mary. She was constantly in a hurry. We’d been told that a French doctor runs the physiotherapy centre in this hospital. There were injured people in the corridors, in the treatment rooms even in the cafeteria. There we were having coffee when a middle age man came over to us and smiling asked us "Are you moundassin?” This is what the Syrian regime call the revolutionaries and opposition i.e. agents coming from abroad to conspire against them. He said “Here we all are moundassin.” Then he laughed. He was a really nice person and I learned later that he was also a doctor.
In the physiotherapy department, we spoke to the technicians who told us of the dire lack of equipment. They said “We have very basic machines here that do not meet the needs of the department.” Lots of people were coming and going, some just observing and then leaving as we were.
As we were about to leave a doctor came up to us and asked if we had met Mustapha. He told me that Mustapha was a 6 year old boy who had been brought here from a refugee camp and that he had lost his family in a bombing by warplanes and had subsequently been injured by shrapnel. They were trying to trace some relatives”. So, we went to see him, he was surrounded by young boys and by a Dr Houssam who, we later learned, was taking care of him; taking him to his home and providing him with a place to sleep amongst his own family. A great doctor! Mustapha looked worn out and very sad. When he spoke to us his voice was very low, when we asked him about the bombing suddenly his eyes focussed on us but he wasn’t looking, he was remembering. He spoke as if it had just happened, "the plane came, everything got black, and it went". He lay down on the bed in the physiotherapy room, his eyes were open but the sadness was so great it could collapse mountains. The bomb had hit the family home, his father was killed, his cousins also died but he said "everybody is in hospital". He was not aware who had died, he had been rescued and sent directly to the refugee camp in Turkey.
Day three: We met with Turkish and Syrian humanitarian organisations.
In the afternoon we met a lovely guy called Obeyda, a journalist with Orient TV. He said to us “Do you want to join us, there is as llewi protest in solidarity with Bashar and we are going to film it?” we were taken by surprise but agreed to go. When we arrived there he stopped the car but his Turkish friend, who supports the Syrian revolution, preferred to wait by the car and not to go near the protest. He lives in the area and was in fear of being recognised by those protesting. Obeyda said “Please take care, things aren’t easy here”.
**It is important to mention here that the Turkish people in the border towns speak Arabic fluently. This protest was in Antakya and it is well known that the allewis live mainly in Antakya and Sweida. They are big supporters of Assad along sectarian lines. In addition, the leader of the Turkish Labor party, who called for the protest, is in jail for somewhat suspicious activities.
Obeyda was interviewing people and asking them about the reasons for their protests and the answers were “We are here for solidarity”, ”For peace”, “We love Bashar and support him” and “All what it is on the media is lies”. They advised us to watch only the Syrian regime media (SANA). One of them shouted at Obeyda “They (SANA) are the only media that says the truth”. Another protester was shouting at us "Assad has a great heart. No one has a better heart than him." I couldn’t stop myself at this point so I asked her, "Are you talking about the tyrant, the children killer?" They then surrounded us and at that moment it became really scary. My colleague and I decided to leave the protest. Obeyda stayed facing the questions "What news outlet do you work for?" one shouted at him, "If you work for Al-Jazeera news I will slaughter you with my knife." Things were getting really dangerous so he joined us and we walked slowly back to the car thinking that if we ran they might decide to attack us. Obeyda is a brave reporter to have stayed so long.
Also on day three we arranged the aid that was to be sent to Atme, inside Syria. This is where approximately 10,000 Syrians are sleeping in the dust, on the ground, covered only by the shade of the olive trees. Waiting in miserable conditions are the old, the young and sick alike all waiting to be allowed to cross the border into Turkey.
We bought around 2 tons of aid, mostly flour, rice, peas, beans, lentils, baby milk etc.
The hospital/clinic that we visited was full of the injured. We met a Belgian nurse called Mary. She was constantly in a hurry. We’d been told that a French doctor runs the physiotherapy centre in this hospital. There were injured people in the corridors, in the treatment rooms even in the cafeteria. There we were having coffee when a middle age man came over to us and smiling asked us "Are you moundassin?” This is what the Syrian regime call the revolutionaries and opposition i.e. agents coming from abroad to conspire against them. He said “Here we all are moundassin.” Then he laughed. He was a really nice person and I learned later that he was also a doctor.
In the physiotherapy department, we spoke to the technicians who told us of the dire lack of equipment. They said “We have very basic machines here that do not meet the needs of the department.” Lots of people were coming and going, some just observing and then leaving as we were.
As we were about to leave a doctor came up to us and asked if we had met Mustapha. He told me that Mustapha was a 6 year old boy who had been brought here from a refugee camp and that he had lost his family in a bombing by warplanes and had subsequently been injured by shrapnel. They were trying to trace some relatives”. So, we went to see him, he was surrounded by young boys and by a Dr Houssam who, we later learned, was taking care of him; taking him to his home and providing him with a place to sleep amongst his own family. A great doctor! Mustapha looked worn out and very sad. When he spoke to us his voice was very low, when we asked him about the bombing suddenly his eyes focussed on us but he wasn’t looking, he was remembering. He spoke as if it had just happened, "the plane came, everything got black, and it went". He lay down on the bed in the physiotherapy room, his eyes were open but the sadness was so great it could collapse mountains. The bomb had hit the family home, his father was killed, his cousins also died but he said "everybody is in hospital". He was not aware who had died, he had been rescued and sent directly to the refugee camp in Turkey.
Day three: We met with Turkish and Syrian humanitarian organisations.
In the afternoon we met a lovely guy called Obeyda, a journalist with Orient TV. He said to us “Do you want to join us, there is as llewi protest in solidarity with Bashar and we are going to film it?” we were taken by surprise but agreed to go. When we arrived there he stopped the car but his Turkish friend, who supports the Syrian revolution, preferred to wait by the car and not to go near the protest. He lives in the area and was in fear of being recognised by those protesting. Obeyda said “Please take care, things aren’t easy here”.
**It is important to mention here that the Turkish people in the border towns speak Arabic fluently. This protest was in Antakya and it is well known that the allewis live mainly in Antakya and Sweida. They are big supporters of Assad along sectarian lines. In addition, the leader of the Turkish Labor party, who called for the protest, is in jail for somewhat suspicious activities.
Obeyda was interviewing people and asking them about the reasons for their protests and the answers were “We are here for solidarity”, ”For peace”, “We love Bashar and support him” and “All what it is on the media is lies”. They advised us to watch only the Syrian regime media (SANA). One of them shouted at Obeyda “They (SANA) are the only media that says the truth”. Another protester was shouting at us "Assad has a great heart. No one has a better heart than him." I couldn’t stop myself at this point so I asked her, "Are you talking about the tyrant, the children killer?" They then surrounded us and at that moment it became really scary. My colleague and I decided to leave the protest. Obeyda stayed facing the questions "What news outlet do you work for?" one shouted at him, "If you work for Al-Jazeera news I will slaughter you with my knife." Things were getting really dangerous so he joined us and we walked slowly back to the car thinking that if we ran they might decide to attack us. Obeyda is a brave reporter to have stayed so long.
Also on day three we arranged the aid that was to be sent to Atme, inside Syria. This is where approximately 10,000 Syrians are sleeping in the dust, on the ground, covered only by the shade of the olive trees. Waiting in miserable conditions are the old, the young and sick alike all waiting to be allowed to cross the border into Turkey.
We bought around 2 tons of aid, mostly flour, rice, peas, beans, lentils, baby milk etc.
Day four: From Rehanyli city, Mehssen, our friend and guide, took us to the Bab el Hawa border crossing. Atme is inside Syria, about 20km from this crossing. It is difficult to get aid to the inside of Syria via official channels. A lot of official paperwork and bureaucracy is required, so we decided to go to a military point on the border where Turkish soldiers turn a blind eye.
To get the aid to the inside, Mehssen contacted people already on that side of the border and we agreed that they will meet us at this military point with a van where we can then transfer the aid supplies from the Turkish van. It’s not an official crossing point. The place is in a dusty area, just a small passing place open for a single car or small van to park and transfer the aid to the other side.
Whilst we were there a Turkish ambulance was transferring an injured person. I was taking a photo when some Turkish soldiers came and told me that it was forbidden. I said “Just one photo?” He replied “Only the ambulance”.
Someone approached us from the other side of the border and told us that the aid was for him. However we soon established that he wasn’t the man we were supposed to meet, probably manipulating us to get aid or just desperate. It was chaotic but we were relieved when our man showed up. He transferred the aid into the Syrian van and off he went. We weren’t allowed to accompany the aid at this point. The Turkish soldiers said we need papers for that, so we returned to the official crossing where we could meet the Syrian van carrying our that was waiting for us.
Only my colleague was allowed to enter as he holds a Syrian passport, I do not so had to stay on the Turkish side. I was told, by the Turkish officer, that it was for my own safety; my colleague’s safety was not mentioned. After my colleague crossed, I stay for a while watching him until he disappeared from view, I then waited, with my guide, in the car at the border. Sunset came and I was very anxious about him, then he appeared and said “I am happy because I got the aid to these miserable people, but people are dying of snake and scorpion bites, things are horrible there.” After a while he added “I breathed the air of my country. The freedom in this, the liberated area'' I told him “Yalla, you need a good bath and look at your shoes. All dusty” He smiled and said “ No I wont clean them, that is the soil of my country”.
To get the aid to the inside, Mehssen contacted people already on that side of the border and we agreed that they will meet us at this military point with a van where we can then transfer the aid supplies from the Turkish van. It’s not an official crossing point. The place is in a dusty area, just a small passing place open for a single car or small van to park and transfer the aid to the other side.
Whilst we were there a Turkish ambulance was transferring an injured person. I was taking a photo when some Turkish soldiers came and told me that it was forbidden. I said “Just one photo?” He replied “Only the ambulance”.
Someone approached us from the other side of the border and told us that the aid was for him. However we soon established that he wasn’t the man we were supposed to meet, probably manipulating us to get aid or just desperate. It was chaotic but we were relieved when our man showed up. He transferred the aid into the Syrian van and off he went. We weren’t allowed to accompany the aid at this point. The Turkish soldiers said we need papers for that, so we returned to the official crossing where we could meet the Syrian van carrying our that was waiting for us.
Only my colleague was allowed to enter as he holds a Syrian passport, I do not so had to stay on the Turkish side. I was told, by the Turkish officer, that it was for my own safety; my colleague’s safety was not mentioned. After my colleague crossed, I stay for a while watching him until he disappeared from view, I then waited, with my guide, in the car at the border. Sunset came and I was very anxious about him, then he appeared and said “I am happy because I got the aid to these miserable people, but people are dying of snake and scorpion bites, things are horrible there.” After a while he added “I breathed the air of my country. The freedom in this, the liberated area'' I told him “Yalla, you need a good bath and look at your shoes. All dusty” He smiled and said “ No I wont clean them, that is the soil of my country”.
Day five: We were planning to visit the refugee camp at Ghazi Antep. It is close to the Aleppo border. We couldn’t get there but the humanitarian organisation Al Fajir, that we were due to meet in Ghazi Antep sent a delegation to meet us in Antakya. Great guys full of hope and determination.
Day six: On our last day we decided to go down town Antakya, near the lake. We were aware that a new decision taken by the Turkish authorities would be implemented soon. It means that they would now move Syrians in Antakya city further into the interior of Turkey by about 20 km. Most of these people have paid on year’s rent in advance. It seems that this city is now off limits for Syrians. This includes also the Syrian injured, doctors, medical staff and the convalescent hospitals that cost a fortune to set up. To the Syrian people, the Turkish government has said aid it fears confrontations between the Syrians and the Turkish allewis.
I would like to mention here, a very active Syrian, Dr Assad. He is in his 70th year and lives abroad but comes every 2 weeks to check on the injured and bring aid to them. I saw him everywhere we went, always available to help everybody, he is great and a superman. May god bless him and bless all the people who are helping to decrease the Syrian suffer.
Now for a quick update on Mustapha, the boy we saw in Rehaniye. We learned a couple days after our first visit that they had managed to contact a relative, Mustapha’s grandfather. who came to collect him. He told us that Mustapha’s mother had survived but was still indeed in hospital.
I left my colleague in Istanbul, both of us in tears. We each went back home. We had shared, witnessed and touched the Syrian pain together.
Day six: On our last day we decided to go down town Antakya, near the lake. We were aware that a new decision taken by the Turkish authorities would be implemented soon. It means that they would now move Syrians in Antakya city further into the interior of Turkey by about 20 km. Most of these people have paid on year’s rent in advance. It seems that this city is now off limits for Syrians. This includes also the Syrian injured, doctors, medical staff and the convalescent hospitals that cost a fortune to set up. To the Syrian people, the Turkish government has said aid it fears confrontations between the Syrians and the Turkish allewis.
I would like to mention here, a very active Syrian, Dr Assad. He is in his 70th year and lives abroad but comes every 2 weeks to check on the injured and bring aid to them. I saw him everywhere we went, always available to help everybody, he is great and a superman. May god bless him and bless all the people who are helping to decrease the Syrian suffer.
Now for a quick update on Mustapha, the boy we saw in Rehaniye. We learned a couple days after our first visit that they had managed to contact a relative, Mustapha’s grandfather. who came to collect him. He told us that Mustapha’s mother had survived but was still indeed in hospital.
I left my colleague in Istanbul, both of us in tears. We each went back home. We had shared, witnessed and touched the Syrian pain together.
