POV diary

Syrian Refugee camp diary (POV)

Dear Diary,

This is my first entry, I just reached the camp it has taken me many days, many cuts and bruises to reach here. My name is Mohammed I heard that some other people from my town were heading here so I hoped that maybe I'd see them... they didn't get close. Luckily though I was granted a miricale, I found my uncle, we were never too close but he's the one link I have back to my home, my family.

Everything.

I've given everything to get here, I'm barely sixteen, I should be out with my friends playing football but... no. They're saying they want me to go into mainstream camp education, but I've got priorities, my uncle has fallen ill, coughing and spluttering all the time. But I can't let him go, I stay on the corner of our row of tents a 'street' of sorts. I stand and sell cigarettes hoping that we can bargain with the money earnt so that I can buy something, anything! Just to help us get through the winter.

It could be worse, although not by much,

I never make a decent profit but combined with the rations my uncle and I get given, we survive. The charity workers help us but can they truly empathise with us and tell us that we're truly safe? I don't know, oh god... my uncle's throwing up blood I need to go for help now!