Emergency Media Officer Alexandra Lopoukhine describes the situation in Dadaab refugee camp, northern Kenya, where nearly 1,500 people are arriving each day.
July 12, 2011
July 10, 2011
July 7, 2011
July 6, 2011
July 12, 2011
When a family arrives
Outside of the reception centres, crowds of people are waiting. UNHCR has set up a structure that is open on all sides, but has a roof to help shade the burning noon day sun. It is still not big enough for all the people. The people are quiet; they are exhausted and in what seem like shock. They are called into the reception centre in small groups to keep the flow inside moving.
Once they are called up to enter the reception centre (a fenced in compound with various tents, benches, tanks and taps of water CARE provides) , they go to one of the three reception centres being run by UNHCR staff. They first go through an electronic finger printing screening which registers them and their family. They get coloured bracelets based on which camp they are being received in (Blue bracelet in Ifo, Yellow in Dagahaley and Red in Hagadera). They then move to receive non-food items – being distributed by CARE staff (plastic mats to sleep or sit on, blankets, jerry cans). At that point they move to food tent, and receive two weeks’ worth of food. CARE staff gives the food out. There is a medical tent for malnutrition screening and the CARE tent for counselling. The final step is they are given a registration date and time to get to the one UNHCR Registration centre which they then get their WFP ration card, and tents and allocation of land.
Living in the camp
Because the camps are full, people are setting-up their places to live where they can find land. This has lead to sprawling overflow, haphazardly set up. Deforestation (de-shrubbing) has taken place. This is a real source of tension with the host community- this is the land that typically Kenyan-Somali use as nomadic feeding and living grounds. So, when the wind blows, the wind blows red dusty dirt all around. At time the dust is so thick, you cannot see one foot in front – cars stop, people cover their faces; lack of visibility can last up to a minute. The houses are round stick buildings with any type of covering around. The wind can blow these houses down. The children are generally covered in the dust. Feet are perpetually dirty it seems. The sandy-ground is hot, and many refugees have no shoes. Flip flops from China seem to be the most popular type of footwear.
One woman’s story
Hawa Aden Hassan, 30 years old with 3 children, her husband stayed in Somalia, she has been here 5 months. She and a friend went out to collect branches to make their houses and they were attacked. They were able to get away and suffered only minor injuries. They are now afraid to go out and collect what is needed; she said they are sleeping in the open air. They generally don’t feel afraid, but they really want schools for the kids.
July 10, 2011
This morning, CARE staff were discussing, at length, ideas and plans on how to increase water supply in the areas where the newly arrived refuges have settled. A CARE International Water Expert has been with the team here in Dadaab for a few days now, assessing current needs and formulating a plan forward: more 10,000 gallon tanks; more drilling; more boreholes.
This afternoon, I headed out to the outskirts of Dagahaley and talked with some people who have been here for less than three months. A crowd quickly formed. One woman told me about the lack of water. Above us all, stood a very tall man (I am quite short, but he really was tall) and he explained to me that way too many people have to share one latrine. He told me they need more water – what they have now really isn’t enough. The crowd all agreed.
It was then that I explained that a water expert has come to help CARE determine what we can do about the water supply situation. I told him we know it is not enough. I told him the world is paying attention; money is coming-in to help get them more food, more water and more support. I apologized that things are this way right now, but that with all the new people coming recently, it has genuinely been hard to keep up. I asked them for patience.
What happened then will stay with me for a very long time. As my translator finished explaining that we were working hard to figure this out, he smiled. He smiled and stared me in the eyes and said thank you. The crowd nodded their heads and smiled as well. I say this now, this “thank you”, was the most sincere exchange I have ever been part of.
July 7, 2011
On the far outskirts of the Ifo camp, round houses - sticks intertwined and covered with tattered cloth and pieces of torn plastic, are home to the newly arrived refugees. Today, I walked around and met a few people who had just arrived – last week in fact.
There was excitement to have me around, the children were pretty interested in me and there was a lot of laughter and smiles. It is a wonderful thing about being human: the smile transcends languages.
But through an interpreter, I was able to understand the language of pain. The stories I heard today did bring me to tears, I will admit. So too did seeing malnourished children. Mothers patiently waiting at the MSF clinic which was well placed in the middle of the newly arrived area of homes – their children receiving the immediate care they needed. CARE delivers water to this clinic; it was great to see a partnership of this sort, with the same goal of supporting the refugees, in action.
Some families have walked two weeks. Two weeks. Sleeping where they could, pushing-on to get to this camp. The children are much smaller than they should be. One story I heard was devastating: a mother walking, arrives at the clinic, takes her baby off her back and finds it has died without her knowing. I can’t even imagine the pain this causes her. One man spoke to us in perfect English- he told us he has been a refugee since 1991, and now, here among the newly arrived, is his grandfather.
I feel privilege to have this time here, to talk and to hear the stories of people. I was asked today to tell the world, to share the stories and the reality of the situation. Thank you for reading this.
July 6, 2011
The heat is strong and the wind is blowing. The shade provides relief. People are lined-up, orderly, and patient. There is an overwhelming sense of calm. This is not exactly what I would have expected in the Dagahaley registration center, as today, 1055 people wait for food and to be brought into the UNHCR system.
Then we spoke to a few of the women and they explained their long and challenging journey that brought them here, to the world’s largest refugee camp . They told us of their days of walking, of the challenges they faced in the last few days, and last few hours before they reach here. The hunger they faced at home. The insecurity. One women explained she had heard on the radio in Somalia that here, in Dadaab, they were giving away free food. This was the information she needed to get her kids in order, and start the move. People were calm, I realized, because they had arrived.
They arrived to be greeted by staff from UNHCR, WFP, CARE, and so many other organizations here, ready, and able to support. Relief was offered in the tangible supplies of water, of food, and order. Orderly lines, orderly registration points, orderly information given to people reeling from their recently history of chaos. This is today’s relief.