Syrian refugees contemplate future in desert confines

At the supermarket deli-counter, children tug at parents’ arms, gesturing at the towering aisles of biscuits and crisps. The cavernous, gleaming outlet is the latest development by the World Food Programme at Jordan’s Azraq refugee camp, the newest and largest facility for Syrians fleeing across the border. At its opening in April, Azraq was hailed for its potential and world-class innovations (for example, it is one of the only camps with a supermarket.). However, the outlook for its residents, and its escapees, remains less glowing.

Situated in remote desert 60 miles from Amman, Azraq currently receives around 98 per cent of arrivals from Syria (approximately 300 per day), with only exceptional cases sent elsewhere. Orderly rows of some ten-thousand shelters extend over miles of arid land, waiting to receive up to 130,000 people at full capacity. Modelled directly on the experience of its predecessors, the assiduously-organised and monitored camp has been declared one of the best-planned in world history. Indeed, Azraq differs strikingly from Jordan’s most populous camp, Za’atari, which opened at the height of the 2012 refugee crisis and continues to host some 80,000 in a chaotic settlement in the north.

“When you have up to four thousand people arriving each day, as in Za’atari, all of whom have needs, demands and expectations, you do whatever you can to provide protection and assistance,” says Bernadette Castel-Hollingsworth, head of UNHCR’s Azraq field office. “Sometimes things were not done as well as we would have liked, but it was an emergency.”

First established in March 2013, Azraq afforded its founders a comparatively lengthy window to reflect and strategise. “We had the luxury of timing here”, says Castel-Hollingsworth, who has worked extensively at refugee camps beyond the region. “We put our heads together with the Jordanian government and our partners, and I think it has proven to be very effective.”

Azraq is a dramatic physical and social contrast to the dynamic and crime-wrought sprawl of Za’atari. The latter’s caravans, portable tents and DIY-homesteads (some with courtyards and fountains) have been replaced at Azraq by uniform fixed-shelters. Unlike Za’atari’s myriad stalls and entrepreneurs (it is rumoured that the iPhone 5 could be found more cheaply here than in Amman), there is little scope for enterprise at Azraq. Alongside the WFP supermarket, the planned open-air market is the only place that the 15,000 residents can spend their monthly food vouchers (up 20 Jordanian dinars per family). The streets are lined with IKEA solar lamps and each of the designated ‘villages’ has ample drinking water and gender-specific bathing facilities. However, the camp still has no electricity, despite long-standing plans – an increasing concern as the harsh winter approaches. So too, funding shortfalls mean that the shelters have yet to be lined with concrete and the makeshift dirt flooring is conducive to rodent and insect infestation. In the supermarket queue, a man indicates the insect bites covering his son’s back, while others complain of scorpions invading their tents and rats pillaging their food-stocks. The cost of groceries at the camp – Jordan is comparatively expensive for Syrians – combined with limited business opportunities have amplified the sense of scarcity for refugees.

Like their Za’atari counterparts, many who arrived at Azraq have voted with their feet. Almost 80 per cent of the estimated 600,000 Syrian refugees in Jordan live outside camps, most of them in urban settlements around towns like Irbid and Mafraq. While the majority of arrivals are brought to camps, many depart promptly – some back to Syria and others to Jordan’s cities to join relatives and pursue greater autonomy and employment. However, the vast demographic shift and popular discontent engendered by the influx has seen a recent clampdown by the Jordanian government on the movement of refugees. In July, the Syrian Refugees Directorate implemented strict policy changes which in effect prevent unregistered urban refugees and those leaving the camps unauthorised from accessing humanitarian aid. The shift has been accompanied by reports of urban refugees being evicted from their settlements and forcibly returned to the camps, or threatened with deportation to Syria. Current regulations enable Syrians with relatives or other willing guarantors to obtain a formal bail-out permit to live outside the camps. However, the costly process and restrictive criteria close-off this option for most refugees.

Among them, Ahmed and his family from Hamma were returned to Azraq several months ago, after establishing themselves in a settlement outside Mafraq. The humble patch where he now cultivates radishes and corn outside his shelter is one of the few signs of greenery at the camp. Under the gaze of a camp officer (all journalists at Azraq are accompanied by a government official), Ahmed acknowledges that conditions are relatively stable and secure there. But when asked how this compares to their life outside, he nods in agreement, “yes, it was much better there.”

New restrictions on urban settlement have been accompanied by an uncompromising approach to those who cross back into Syria. Since July, the Jordanian government has cracked down on so-called “second-returns” and now prohibits any refugees who go back to Syria from re-entering the country.

“The government of Jordan has a strict policy and considers that if you return to Syria you cannot come back,” says Castel-Hollingsworth. However, she emphasises that UNHCR’s approach is less rigid. “We are advocating for some special cases and of course, we always accept people at Azraq. The camp is open night and day to anyone who wants to come.”

She is confident that Azraq will continue to welcome Syrians in greater numbers, particularly come the cold weather. As she notes, the relative material and social security of Azraq camp is for many vastly preferable to the hazards of life in urban settlements or even Za’atari, especially women and families.

“People are happy here because they feel very protected and secure, even though there is a very rough climate and a sense of isolation,” she says, noting hearsay that refugees living in Irbid plan to move back to Azraq once electricity arrives.

These claims are confirmed by Azraq residents who generally reiterate the sense of safety and community at the camp. Many are also grateful for measures which enable a degree of autonomy and financial agency, such as UNHCR’s popular ‘Cash for Work’ program that pays residents an hourly rate (one Jordanian dinar) for various forms of labour at the camp.

“It gives us a chance to earn money, and something to do during all these days,” says one of a group of young men from Hamma and Aleppo who are collecting rubbish as part of the scheme. Likewise, another agrees that the Jordanian government and UNHCR donors have made efforts to assist dispossessed Syrians. Yet it is clear that, whatever its advantages, the desert confines of Azraq are no place from which to contemplate permanence or hope for the future. “It is better here than in Hamma now, but if the world had done more for Syrians earlier, we wouldn’t be stuck in the dessert,” he adds.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.