COVID-19
24 May 2023
|By Mirco Natili
With the outbreak of the Covid-19 pandemic, INTERSOS readjusted its project activities in all missions and launched emergency health response programmes in the countries of intervention.
With the outbreak of the Covid-19 pandemic, INTERSOS readjusted its project activities in all missions and launched emergency health response programmes in the countries of intervention.
My name is Youssef and I am a student. I am 20 years old and I am from Al-Bayda, a governorate in Yemen. I study medicine at Sana’a University, this is a privilege for me in a country like Yemen, where the right to study is often denied. Achieving this goal has not been easy; studying medicine has always been a dream for me, but my family’s limited economic resources and the poor educational offerings in my country have made my path more difficult. Despite everything, I never stopped believing that I could make a difference, keep dreaming of a different future. I would like to become a doctor, to be able to treat as many people as possible who as of today do not have access to care. In my hometown, I imagine that one day there may be a hospital where getting treatment can be the norm and no longer a right of a few.
I am Dania Yousef Madi, I am 26 years old and Palestinian. I am studying telecommunications engineering.
Telecommunications is a very broad field. I chose it because I was always amused by the technologies, the signals. How calls are connected, what bandwidth companies operate at, etc. It has a good outlook for the future because, as we all know, technology is increasing. And communication is something that is very important in daily life. So, the possibilities will never end in this field
My parents are divorced and my mother was a teacher trying to take care of four children, we were far from being well off. The only way I could continue my studies was to get the scholarship. This financial support allowed me to reshape my life to better pursue my university studies. I was working while studying at the university, and with the scholarship I was able to reduce my working hours and devote more time to studying, completing my assessment assignments and, most importantly, preparing for exams. A great weight was lifted off my shoulders thanks to the DAFI scholarship. This scholarship really gave me a second chance to achieve my goals and work to my full potential.
I currently work as an education officer in INTERSOS and strive to never stop learning and developing my skills by enrolling and attending some courses and conferences. My dream is to help others realize their dream. To do something valuable for others. Deeper than that, I want to live free and help others to live free and fulfilled. Also, another of my biggest dreams is to continue my studies and do a master’s degree, which is the best path for career development and a better future.
My name is Abd al-Karim Tawfiq Ahmed. I am 24 years old and grew up in Al Dhalea governorate in northern Yemen. I am a fourth-year medical student at the Faculty of Medicine, University of Sana’a. I chose medicine because I have a strong interest and passion for science, driven by an innate desire to do what I can to help people who are suffering. Besides, the medical profession is one of the most coveted in the world, competitive and respectable.
Throughout my studies, I learned the meaning of the words commitment, perseverance and diligence. The Lavazza Foundation scholarship has helped me overcome many challenges, tuition coverage first and foremost, which has been a constant source of concern for me. In addition, the scholarship is an essential support for daily expenses.
After receiving the Lavazza scholarship, something changed in my approach and now I have a more positive outlook on life. I started studying with a smile and realize how lucky I am to have had this opportunity. I engage more with my classmates and ask the lecturers whenever there is something I don’t understand. So far studying has not been easy, but I continue to try my best and hope everything goes well, I have to believe that I am capable of becoming a good doctor!
In the past I used to joke about the possibility of becoming a doctor: today I am a fourth-year medical student and I got a scholarship that allows me to believe in a dream coming true, to work hard, to be able to dress well, to have the resources to make myself presentable and never give up. The scholarship has ignited in me a renewed sense of optimism, after graduation I would like to continue my studies and pursue a master’s degree.
My name is Doa’a. I was born in Yemen into a poor family.
My future seemed already written: a life of deprivation, struggle for survival and buried dreams. I was just a child and already carrying on my shoulders the weight of a particularly complex context for women who are often denied choices.
Then, one day, everything changed with my determination not to accept a destiny already set. I decided to study and have a different future. With hard work and sacrifices, I managed to enroll in the Faculty of Dentistry. Then came the scholarship that is allowing me to continue my academic journey and get closer and closer to my goal: to become a dentist.
Doa’a is a student under our “Scholarships for the Education of Yemeni Youth” project funded by the Lavazza Foundation. Doa’a’s story is one of resilience and hope. Nearly a decade after the conflict began, our intervention in Yemen has not only provided access to medical care and essential goods or protection for people who survived violence. We have also supported education because we believe that the only way to overcome conflict is to invest in the education of the younger generation.
Wael has been stateless since the registry office of the town where he lived burned down during the civil war, and all birth certificates were lost. His five children are also stateless: the sons are painters, paid by the hour in Lebanese pounds, a minimum wage, continually eroded by inflation. Wael’s wife runs a small shop where she sells household products for third parties. She has cancer, she cannot afford the necessary treatment and she doesn’t know how to carry on.
Lina has always lived in Lebanon but has always remained stateless. She works as a cleaner by the hour to help her family. With what she earned and some help from her friends, she managed to get two of her daughters to continue their studies. Her mother was Lebanese, her father was Syrian. When we ask her what her father did, Lina replies: “Black magic, he read coffee grounds.” Like her, Lina’s children are now stateless.
Esther arrived from Ethiopia ten years ago, looking for work to help her ailing mother. She found only temporary jobs as a domestic worker. She was repeatedly harassed by her employees. To improve her situation, she married a Lebanese garage owner, hoping to obtain citizenship. The husband, however, never registered the marriage and Esther soon discovered his drug addiction (the pills and white powder around the house were not medicines for toothache, as he said). Furthermore, he was a drug dealer and was very violent, especially when she refused to act as a courier for drugs outside Beirut. Once, he locked her up in a room for days and tortured her with cigarette burns.
Despite this, Esther had two children with him, who were never spared mistreatment and beatings. One day, when her husband was about to throw a pot of boiling water on her, Esther started screaming so loudly that she alarmed the neighbors, who called the police. He ended up in prison but for a short time. A Lebanese association that supports women survivors of violence offered refuge to Esther and her two children, who remained stateless because their births were never registered.
Now Esther works occasionally, with the help of INTERSOS, from which she receives material and legal assistance. She is still afraid to move freely and meet her abusive husband. She would like to return to Ethiopia, but her family was exterminated during the civil war.
Amara arrived in Beirut in 2012 from Addis Ababa, to find a job as a domestic worker. Like tens of thousands of other migrant workers, her stay in Lebanon is framed by the so-called “Kafala” system, a sponsorship that often turns into a form of modern slavery, providing a precarious legal status that prevents them from registering their children of Lebanese origin.
Amara married a Lebanese taxi driver and had three children. She had a religious marriage, not officially registered, because any woman, to get married in Lebanon, must provide documentary proof of being previously unmarried. And how could Amara prove that she was not already married in Ethiopia before leaving the country? For this reason, although the father recognised the three children, they remained stateless, because he could not present the requested documentation to the registry office.