into the field


INTO THE FIELD A Canadian newcomer to the UN Refugee Agency


reflects on her first international mission By Lauren La Rose


First came the scream. Then the giggles followed.


Sadly, I don’t speak Arabic, but the language of pure joy needs no translation.


It was etched all over the face of five-year-old Rajaa who stood alongside her two friends, huddled together, doubled over in laughter, steps away from the shelter she shared with her family, including her mother and four siblings, aged two months to 11 years.


I had spent most of the day at Azraq Camp in Jordan, about an hour’s drive outside of the capital of Amman. It was my first overseas mission with the UN Refugee Agency after more than a decade working as a journalist in Canada.


In my previous and current posts, I had never witnessed first-hand the hardships of refugees beyond images and stories beamed onto my TV and computer, printed in newspapers, or broadcast over the radio waves.


“Yet in witnessing this moment with Rajaa and her friends, there was no sadness. I was just observing three adorable girls doing what friends do: basking in the delight of each other’s company.”


I spent much of that first day in the field meeting with and hearing the compelling stories of Syrian refugees who had been forced to leave everything behind as they fled the conflict ravaging their homeland.


14 / UNHCR CANADA © UNHCR/Lauren La Rose Five-year-old Rajaa (left)


shares a laugh with her friends at Azraq Camp in Jordan.


Yet in witnessing this moment with Rajaa and her friends, there was no sadness. I was just observing three adorable girls doing what friends do: basking in the delight of each other’s company. The only jarring elements of


were the extraordinary circumstances surrounding these young girls that had brought their families to the camps.


As happy as I was to see first-hand the incredible work by my UNHCR Jordan colleagues to provide refugees with shelter and warmth during the winter months, I couldn’t help but feel heartbroken by what I didn’t see: there were few markers of home in these shelters. No family photos hanging on walls, or stacks of books or trinkets lining shelves.


©


this completely ordinary, everyday scene


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