Support Syrian Refugee Mothers in Turkey

Ala (26) was 9 months pregnant when she went to the hospital for a final checkup, just to make sure all was ok with weeks left to delivery. She found out that her temporary protection ID, which is the status Syrian refugees need in Turkey to access basic services such as healthcare, had been cancelled with code “V87.”

She had been living in the southern city of Mersin and she hadn’t even been near the Syrian border since she crossed it 5 years ago. There must have been a mistake…

When her husband informed STL field teams with regard to the urgency of the matter, our teams quickly realized there must have been an administrative error, since V87 is the code for voluntary returns. Ala explained that they hadn’t been across the border even once; not since they fled the violence 5 years ago.

Turkey is home to nearly 4 million Syrian refugees and with 9 years into the Syrian War, the Turkish government is feeling the financial strain this causes. While a lot is being done to facilitate refugees’ access to basic needs such as healthcare, education and employment, it is increasingly becoming a policy priority to encourage voluntary returns. As the population records of Syrian refugees are still somewhat messy, situations like the one Ala finds herself in are not uncommon. It’s most likely a case of mistaken identity; but in her case, the consequences would have been serious.

Thanks to STL teams’ prompt response and advocacy work, the family received individual protection assistance. Ala could quickly have her temporary protection ID reissued and give birth to a healthy girl at the local hospital. 

I got to know Sabah in Adana, during our field activities focusing on women’s empowerment. Sabah was married to a distant relative in Syria at a young age and lived relatively ‘normally’ until the war broke out. Once the clashes became widespread and her husband joined an armed group, her life changed altogether.

In the harsh circumstances of war, and in the absence of her husband, she did all in her power to keep her children safe as much as she could – like so many mothers were doing as this manmade disaster unfolded. Alas, their home was hit by an airstrike and they relocated to a camp outside the city. She can only find two words to describe the circumstances of the camp: “So hard.”

And then came the news of her husbands’ death. She has no words to describe the moment, but her teary eyes communicate the pain thoroughly.

Sabah and her kids stayed in that camp for more than a year. Then her family began speaking of a custom to protect the honour of the family. She was expected to marry the brother of her husband. She objected to this custom, refused to remarry and decided to cross the border to Turkey to live with other distant relatives.

Yet, the living conditions in their new address was not an improvement in any way. The only livelihood opportunity they had available to them was to join the workforce in seasonal agriculture. They were toiling for long days without end and for very little pay. To earn a living, she went straight to work – with no time to register herself or children to local authorities, without any form of insurance or social security.

Seasonal agriculture work is especially harsh on women. The environment is physically, socially and psychologically challenging with ‘disaster-like’ conditions of shelter, sanitation and hygiene. The seclusion brings along all sorts of risks for women especially.

Sabah did the best she could because her only hope was to raise her kids and offer them a safe future. Some days, her 14-year-old son would have to head to the fields, the middle child would deal with the chores back at the tent, and the youngest one would draw a portrait of a man, saying it’s her dad. She recalls these as memories of the past now, and as sources of hope that illuminated the future.

I learned a lot