Every parent does it. I know I do. We have great hopes for our children.
It's the one thing that unites all parents around the world and we all want the same thing. We want our children to grow up knowing they are deeply loved, are safe, healthy and living fulfilled lives. We'll sacrifice a lot, including our own quality of life, aspirations and security to make those dreams possible. It's what parents do...
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Every parent does it. I know I do. We have great hopes for our children.
It's the one thing that unites all parents around the world and we all want the same thing. We want our children to grow up knowing they are deeply loved, are safe, healthy and livingfulfilled lives. We'll sacrifice a lot, including our own quality of life, aspirations and security to make those dreams possible. It's what parents do.
Ali exemplifies this. The war had reached her town. Five months ago, hungry and anxious for the future of her family, she left Syria with her husband and six children and after two days walking, crossed the border into Turkey.
Refugee Ali and her husband have high hopes for their children. Photo / Jo Currie, World Vision
We meet her in the border town of Urfa where she is living with her family in the shell of an unfinished building.
The walls are bare, there is a single light bulb and the windows are boarded up. "Life is difficult," she explains. The language is unfamiliar, the house barely adequate, her husband has no work and somehow she has to find a way to care for her children. She dreams of returning to Syria but has no expectation that will be soon.
But her face lights up when we talk about her children.
11-year-old Hala yearns to become a doctor. Photo / Jo Currie, World Vision
Ali proudly introduces us to each child before singling out Hala, her eldest. She greets us with a shy smile and surprises me by asking in English, "Hello, how are you?". "I am very well," I reply. She blushes when I tell her she has excellent English. "She was top of her class in Syria and is in the second to top class in Turkey," says her proud mother.
"I want her to become a doctor," she continues. Hala smiles and nods in agreement. Ali goes on to explain that Hala has a kidney disease they cannot afford to treat. It's why she wants her daughter to become a doctor so she can help people like herself when she is older.
But I worry that Hala's untreated health conditions, the costs of schooling and the challenges of daily survival will mean that potential is never realised. Yet another refugee child whose dreams are dashed simply because they had the misfortune to be born in Syria.
Ali's hopes for her daughter stand in defiance of this. I am deeply moved by Ali's fierce devotion for her children. She will be well aware of the challenges that lie ahead, nevertheless she will do all she can to see her daughter graduate from medical school.
One day Syria will be rebuilt and it will require an influx of teachers, doctors, electricians, lawyers, farmers and academics to make this possible.
Syria's future rests on young girls like Hala realising their dreams and becoming part of the great reconstruction of a once-proud nation.
As we leave, Hala thanks me in English for coming. "I think you will make a great doctor," I tell her, and I mean it. She is bright and passionate to learn, while her experiences fleeing Syria will have built a remarkable resilience and empathy in one so young.
I know I am powerless to end the war in Syria but it is possible I can do something for this girl and together we can do something for the thousands of young Syrians who still dream dreams. This I do know: if we leave it much longer many in this new generation will join the ranks of angry, powerless and disillusioned Syrians who have gone before them and turned to an AK47 rather than a textbook to find meaning in life. We don't have much time.
Surgery abandoned
Halla, 4. Photo / Jo Currie, World Vision
Halla is 4 years old. She was born in Aleppo in the early stages of the Syrian uprising.
She has a cleft palate and shortened upper arms and although she can walk, her hips appear uneven.
"She needs surgery," her mother says.
Syria once had the best health system in the Middle East but after four years of fighting, the country's infrastructure has collapsed.
