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A Testament To Failing Global Leadership


The escalating global refugee crisis because of wars, conflicts, climate change, man-made and natural disasters, are exacerbated by the pandemic and disproportionately affect women and children.

Prolonged conflicts affect children with “Type I and Type II trauma exposure based on traumatic events, adversities, and day-to-day stressors,” writes Abhinav Mehrotra in International Policy Digest on “Israeli-Palestinian Conflict: From the Eyes of Children.” 

Displaced and refugee women from Kenya, Nagorno-Karabakh, Palestine and Lebanon were asked to share stories, reflections and traumas they experienced. Dispossessed of their homes and homeland, banished into temporary living quarters in camps and shelters, denied and robbed of the normal routines of life and relations with family, friends and community, most of the women live in constant psychological trauma–and are caretakers of their children and family. Some women preferred to remain anonymous, while others proudly provided their names.

In late May, the UN deputy special coordinator for Lebanon, Najat Rochdi, briefed the UN Security Council’s informal expert group on Women, Peace and Security (WPS) on the impact of Lebanon’s socio-economic crisis on women–compounded by the Covid-19 lockdown, August 4, 2020 Port of Beirut explosion and the total collapse of the Lebanese government and economic infrastructure. A UN Women’s report in 2020 found that “51% of the affected population identified as female-headed households” suffering from reduced access to food, first aid and reproductive health services, and increased risk of homelessness and gender-based violence.

“The August 4th event was by far the most life-changing event. The toughest, the roughest, and the most intense event of my life. There’s definitely a part of me that feels lucky I made it out alive, and one year after it made me stronger. But on the other side, there’s a part of me that feels the same goosebumps, frustration and anger,” says 24-year-old Youmna Hammoud, angered that no one has been held accountable while she suffers from back pain, numbness in fingers, hearing problems, PTSD and unable to “find justice” as her entire house demolished “on top of” her head. Aside from having lost everything, having to restart from scratch, the physical and psychological trauma and losses–the most distressful is the lack of “accountability and justice” while those responsible haven’t been brought to justice.  

Caroline Mosashami has two children and lived in a “nice home and had a comfortable life prior to the blast.” Facing the deterioration of the economic situation, she and her husband cannot provide for their children’s basic needs, Mosashami speaks of the debilitating emotional scars and her children’s deteriorating psychological wellbeing as they’re unable to sleep and obsessed with a fear of dying.

“This fear of dying that they developed after the explosion is constant–they keep telling me ‘we don’t want to die, mom’. As a parent, to pull your children away from this state of mind is very difficult. It’s putting even more pressure on me as a person, a parent and as a mother watching the suffering of my children,” explains Mosahami who says their comfortable life in a matter of seconds flipped 180 degrees as their home basically fell over their heads–and a year later, the situation remains miserable and their home in shambles.

By December 2020, of the total 145,000 population of Nagorno-Karabakh, following the 44-day bombardment of Turkish-led Azerbaijani war, some 100,000 people had to flee their homes. Most of the disputed enclave’s women, children, and elderly took refuge in Armenia.

A middle-aged Armenian woman from Nagorno-Karabakh, now displaced and in temporary housing in Armenia’s eastern province of Gegharkunik, bordering Azerbaijan, wishes she could return to her home which is now under Azerbaijan’s rule.

“It doesn’t matter that we lost our property, land, and our home…..the worst thing is losing my only son to the war, and all the relatives,” she says, explaining how her husband left for Russia after the tragedy. “The grief is so deep I’m not able to value anything in my life. I hope there will be an opportunity to start a new life.”

The most recent Israeli air strikes left some 52,000 Palestinians internally displaced. Across the Gaza Strip, nearly 450 buildings were destroyed and damaged including six hospitals, nine primary healthcare centers and a desalination plant providing drinking water to nearly 250,000 people. A late May report from the Gaza Health Ministry confirms 243 Palestinians killed, including 66 children and 39 women–and 1,910 wounded. Twelve people in Israel, including a 5-year-old boy and 16-year-old girl, were killed. In a surprise turnaround, the mainstream media in the U.S. and across the globe reported the Palestinian casualties and Israel’s indisputable military might.

Qatar Al-Nada Ashraf Busharat is a 12-year-old living in Jifna, a Palestinian village in Ramallah connected by a southern road to Jalazone. She suffers from the tensions and pressures of life in a refugee camp–like thousands of other Palestinian children. “I feel under pressure” she says the highly volatile situation disrupts her schooling. She dreams of someday becoming “a doctor.”

The 55-year-old Al Sakhrah is no stranger to internal displacement. Thirty-five years ago, two months after her marriage, and two-months pregnant, her husband was arrested and sentenced to 20 years in prison. She had to overcome hardships and sacrificed everything to raise her son, Mahmoud, alone. A few days after he got engaged at age 18, he was arrested by the Israeli soldiers, and sentenced to two-and-a-half years–joining his father in prison. In 2004, Al Sakhrah’s husband and son were released.

“Mahmoud got married and 11 months later, in July 2006 he was killed by Israeli soldiers,” Al Sakhrah got pregnant again, giving birth to her now 14-year-old daughter and encouraged her husband to remarry to “have a new Mahmoud.” He did and named his son Mahmoud, who is now four years old. After her husband died last year because of COVID-19 complications, Al Sakhrah and her daughter moved in with Mahmoud and his mother who is deaf and mute. Suffering from osteoporosis and high blood pressure, Al Sakhrah continues to work as a school attendant at a private school to provide for her new family.

The 47-year-old Karima Jumah Hassan Yassin is a singer who manages a women’s center. Originally from the Bayt Nabala Palestinian Arab village in the Ramle subdistrict destroyed during the 1948 Arab Israeli War, she now lives in Ramallah’s Al-Jalazone camp. Suffering from various psychological episodes and unable to hold a steady job, she wants to provide adequate protection to other women and girls in the camp, offering projects to those without an education and unemployed, to work on various projects.

The 45-year-old Sereen Jumah Hassan Nakhle, and 23-year-old singer, Rama Yassin are both originally from Bayt Nabala but now live in Al-Jalazone refugee camp in Ramallah.

“We don’t live normally because of the security situation. My ambitions in life are many, but the most important one is self-development with work and education,” says Yassin.

Nakhle is concerned about violence against women in the camps. A concern shared by the 49-year-old Jamila Ali Abu Asal, from Baria village now living in Jericho’s Aqbet Jaber Refugee Camp. She’s the chairperson of the now-closed Aqbet Jaber Women Activity Center which was a source of income for refugee women.

“I hope to return to my place of origin. Meanwhile, I want to live a decent life inside camps, and protect refugee women from violence and poverty,” says Asal.

Worldwide, gender-based violence intensified amidst the pandemic. Across Kenya, where 45% of women and girls already faced violence, Rose Mbone’s community-based The Legend Kenya in Nairobi’s largest shanty-town, Korogocho with 200,000 residents, offers refuge to women and girls escaping violence and mistreatment.

Nairobi is also home to over 13,000 child-headed households.

“The only difference between a woman prisoner and a woman refugee is the freedom to move around the camp! Otherwise, both are in prison–and this directly affects our children,” says a 19-year-old internally displaced woman in Nairobi.

A 26-year-old reflects on how women are “forced to think about living for today and can no longer plan” for a future since being “tagged as a refugee is already limiting.” A 32-year-old single mother explains how even when parents try to hide the unavoidable realities they live under, “children are intelligent enough to learn of these struggles that are unknown to them.”

“A woman refugee will always deny herself some rights for the security of her children,” says a displaced 35-year-old Kenyan woman.



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