Les billedteksten Foto: Christian Jepsen/Flyktninghjelpen

Leirdrift

En flyktningleir er siste håp for menn, kvinner og barn som er på flukt i et farlig område.

I nødsituasjoner og alvorlige kriser kan det være nødvendig å sette opp en flyktningleir. Her sørger vi for livsviktig hjelp, husly og beskyttelse til mennesker på flukt.

De fleste mennesker på flukt bor utenfor flyktningleirer. Veldig mange søker tilflukt i byer, andre slår seg provisorisk ned i områder utenfor byene.

Derfor tilpasser vi arbeidet vårt, slik at vi kan hjelpe flyktninger både i urbane strøk og i flyktningleirer.

Dette gjør vi:

Vi sørger for at hjelpearbeidet er i tråd med nasjonal lovgivning og folkeretten, internasjonale retningslinjer og tekniske standarder.
Vi avdekker mangler og behov, slik at vi kan gi effektiv hjelp.
Vi samler inn informasjon, og taler på vegne av mennesker på flukt.
Vi tar mennesker på flukt med i beslutninger som angår dagliglivet i leiren.

En global leder

Både store, planlagte leire og spontane anlegg krever god planlegging og koordinering.

I mer enn ti år har Flyktninghjelpen vært i fremste rekke når det gjelder koordinering og drift av flyktningleire. Fra Myanmar til Palestina – dette gjør vi:

støtter partnere i å opprette, koordinere og vedlikeholde leire.
styrer innsamling av data og informasjon.
involverer leirens innbyggere og lokalsamfunnet utenfor leiren.
overvåker tjenester og mangler i leiren.

Vi sender også eksperter til FN og andre organisasjoner. 250 eksperter er ute på oppdrag til enhver tid. Les mer om våre leireksperter.

Relaterte nyheter

In November 2020 Aklilu packed his bags for a trip from his university in Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia, to meet his family in Humera, a small town nestled in the most northwestern part of the country. Like other soon-to-be college graduates, Aklilu was already job hunting and planning to celebrate. “I’ll see you in five weeks for our graduation ceremony,” Aklilu told his friends.
A few days after Aklilu returned to his family home in Humera, mortar-fire ripped through the small town. Conflict started between the federal government of Ethiopia and the Tigrayan Defence Force. Aklilu hurried across the border into Sudan for safety. Today, over 60,000 Ethiopians have poured into Sudan for safety like Aklilu.
Aklilu fled into Sudan with nothing and left his education in Ethiopia behind. Once proficient in the backroom politics of Chelsea football club and a top structural engineering student, Aklilu kicks dirt and waits for updates about the war in Ethiopia. He wonders if the past five years of college education have been for nothing.
“We never expected this could happen. I had heard there were issues, but to me they were just politics. I never knew things could become this bad,” Aklilu says.
When Aklilu arrived at the Um Rakuba refugee camp he lived with his mother, brother, grandmother, aunt, uncle and cousins under a blue tarp that hung over bundled-together wood. A latrine was nearby and the smell overtook the morning coffee his grandmother made. A few weeks later, his family relocated to another space and were given a white tent with a gracious opening in the front and back. But in the rainy season the tent became a parachute. Aklilu and other refugees became bleary eyed by holding the tent down each night to stave off the winds.
“When I was in Ethiopia, I loved the rainy season. You can’t do anything but sit and watch the rain come down. That was my favourite moment,” says Aklilu.
Around 1,655 other university students feel abandoned in the refugee camps like Aklilu. In Umm Rakuba there are 76 university students who have formed a group, called the Tigrayan Refugees University Students in Sudan Association, or TRUSS. The association’s document lay out why their future is in doubt.
“Going back is like choosing death,” one letter the association wrote to a visitor says. “Universities in Tigray are highly damaged and destroyed…universities outside of Tigray are giving services at this time but most Tigrayan University students are afraid to go there because of their identity." Youth like Aklilu cannot back home to continue their education in the universities of Ethiopia in fear of the violence and discrimination they might encounter for being Tigrayans.
“A result of the conflict in Ethiopia is that some of the brightest minds in the country are confined to refugee camps in Sudan,” said Will Carter, Sudan Country Director at the Norwegian Refugee Council. “If these students are given a chance somewhere, they’d be a spark for whomever accepts them.”

But TRUSS students want more than acceptance into a University — they want a university to recognize their past work.
Many hurdles stand in the way of Aklilu getting his degree. When the violence started, many like Aklilu fled and left behind most of their valuables, including their civil documents, identity cards, and education records. As result, they are now unable to provide proof for who they are or how far along they got in university. Also, in a camp where the scarce amount of money they have is barely enough for food, the students cannot afford paying for registration, books, transportation, and accommodation. The only solution would be a full-board scholarship.
Recently, Aklilu has been exploring going to a university in Ghana under a scholarship. However, this scholarship likely means that students lose the progress they have made in university and start from scratch.
Aklilu, like the other senior students in the camp, is frustrated that he probably has to spend another five years studying for a Civil Engineering Degree he was only five weeks away from receiving.
“We are waiting for the opportunity for a university that will accept to acknowledge the credit we have from the university back home. If we accept to start over, we will be 30 years old by the time we graduate. We might not find a job for a long time over. We will be wasting a lot of time in our life,” says Aklilu.On a Friday morning, members of the association gather in a communal tent for their weekly meeting. They have organized themselves into committees and are planning their week ahead. One group will fundraise among other refugees to help an isolated elderly woman in the camp; another one will meet other students and youth in the camp to connect them with NGOs.
While they wait for education, the students in TRUSS and other youth act like community mobilizers. Truss has been helping organizations like NRC to re-build shelters, organize cash distributions, facilitate children registration in school, as well as raising community issues. They receive stipends from organizations, which help them support their families.
“I liked watching movies and series back home, but I like it even more now because there’s nothing much else to do,” says Bisrat, one of Aklilu’s close friends, who now works for NRC.
The students feel trapped in part because they are. The 2014 Asylum Act gives refugees the right to move and seek an education, but in reality, they are contained to the camp. The encampment policy enforced for refugees prevents all the residents to leave the site, cutting them access to jobs and markets and curtailing their freedom of movement.
“Tigrayan refugees cannot leave the camp unless they acquire a permit from authorities for worthy reasons, linked to education, health, or jobs. Unfortunately, these permits are very hard to get – it becomes a vicious circle. They can’t get many opportunities to leave the camp, if they can’t leave the camp to look for them,” says Silvia Beccacece, former NRC Gadarif Area Manager.
Kids in the camp get access to education but are not much better off. Thanks to help from the Norwegian Ministry of Foreign Affair, NRC was one of the first organizations to respond to learning needs in Umm Rakuba. Since then, NRC has been able to expand the quality and durability of the schools with the help of Education Cannot Wait. Around 2,050 children, aged between 6 and 14, go to the four schools NRC has built in different areas of the camp. Resources remain limited. The only textbooks available were ferried across from Ethiopia, and the children attend their classes by sitting on the floors of sand.
Still, students are grateful for what they receive. Nati Teame, 10, is one of NRC’s schoolchildren in the Um Rakuba camp.
“I wake up in the morning and pass the time until it’s time for school. I’ve never been late,” Nati said. “My parents never got the chance to be educated, and I don’t want the same thing to happen to me.”

Photo: Ingrid/Prestetun

– Den største gaven er å ha vennene mine rundt meg

19. nov 2021 | Perspektiv

Mohammed Damaj inside his home at Al-Alad camp for displaced people, which NRC built. Mohammed lost his right leg some years ago but has used carpentry skills he learned from an NRC training to improve his shelter and make it more like home.

Photo: Riona McCormack/NRC

– Vi er alle én familie nå

12. feb 2021 | Perspektiv

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