Partners Relief & Development Blog

2026 has been hit with major destabilisation across the Middle East. We watch from afar as borders blur and tensions escalate across nations. From the collapse of the Kurdish territory in Syria to the all-consuming regional war that has affected the globe, the reality is the region has been played as a geopolitical chess game. But beneath the headlines lies a devastating reality. The war in Lebanon, where months of relentless bombing campaigns and clashes between Israel and Hezbollah, has turned neighbourhoods into frontlines. 

Every escalation, every missile, every tactical strike engulfs societies that never asked to be part of the dispute. It does not pause to ask who it consumes. War is unforgiving, it never picks a suitable battleground. It simply arrives, uninvited, on your doorstep. It affects people who want nothing more than to live a free, full life, unburdened by the weight of geopolitics.

Families and children do not choose to be part of a war. It tears through their traditions, uproots their livelihoods, disrupts their peace, and forces them to say an agonising goodbye to the lives they spent generations building.

Lebanon, April 2026

In Lebanon today, one in five people have been forced to flee their homes in the South and the southern suburbs of Beirut. These civilians have been targeted not for what they have done, but simply for where they live. Hezbollah operates freely in these territories, and so, an entire population has been deemed guilty by association. A war waged against an organisation for generations, has consumed the ordinary soul to pay the highest price.

I visited these southern towns recently. Abandoned by the many, stubbornly occupied by the few. Those who remain are wary of any approaching visitors; it could mean a strike, and a strike means an ending. Above, the sky is never truly empty. Jets rip across the sky, hunting for targets, a distant hum of drones fills the rural landscape, a persistent reminder that they are always being watched.

Everyday life has been meticulously dismantled. Bridges lie in ruins, turning the journey of humanitarian aid into a timely and costly mission. Water systems have ground to a halt. Electricity, which was temperamental even in the best of times, has vanished entirely or teases the population for just a couple of hours a day. With GPS scrambled, communications jammed, and the sky heavy with the threat of artillery, survival has become a game of luck.

Lebanon, April 2026

The South is beautiful, with a simplistic narrative, only to be complicated through people wanting division. It is not populated by just one group, it is a tapestry of Christians, Sunnis, Shia, Druze and many other minorities. Today, they are all bound by the same impossible choice: flee and forfeit everything, or stay and ask your neighbours to leave. No one wants to leave their home. To be internally displaced is to watch your dignity, your memories, your possessions, and your livelihood dissolve.

There is a terrifyingly honest saying that has been echoing through Lebanon right now, “if you leave, you will never be able to return”.

Yet, in desperation to protect their multi-faith communities from becoming targets, many Shia families chose to uproot themselves and head North to Beirut. I spoke with a local city council member in the South, his voice heavy with the weight of an unnatural parting.

“We are a mixed religious town. We have no differences over here between Christians and Muslims. In 2024, we received our brothers that are refugees from Khiam, Kfarkela, and Dabbine. They lived here with us. But unfortunately, we received a call that they had to leave. We had to do so, even though they are our friends, they are our families, they are our brothers. Every day we see them, we were shocked with the call that they had to leave immediately. It’s very hard to tell them, to pack their clothes and go away. We are neighbours. We’re very sad for what has happened, they are just civilians like us.” 

Lebanon, April 2026

Even after the Shia families fled to protect their neighbours, the strikes did not stop. The towns were still attacked. Civilians here are at a breaking point, the psychological warfare of constant jets, humming drones, and the looming terror of a ground invasion has slowly chipped away at their mental health.

Intensifying this is the "yellow line", a newly enforced buffer zone that has effectively sliced through the heart of rural life. This line doesn't care about ancestral borders. It cuts directly through family farms and communities. To step near it is a death sentence. For a population comprised largely of farmers, their livelihoods have been erased.

Lebanon relief distribution, April 2026

In some areas they are now entirely dependent on aid, desperate for a shred of stability. Yet, even dignity is hard to grasp when war interferes. I heard stories of food aid from large international organizations arriving spoiled, riddled with mold and maggots, simply because it took too long for authorisation to cross into the conflict zones.

“There is nothing left for us here,” a newly ordained priest told me, his eyes reflecting the bleak uncertainty of his community.

In this conflict, hope is difficult to carry.

I spoke to a pregnant woman who had fled to Beirut at the start of the war. Finding the city too expensive and lacking a place to stay, she chose the unthinkable. After a week, she returned to her village near the hostile yellow line. Her doctor has since fled the area. She has no access to routine check-ups, her due date is rapidly approaching, and the journey to the nearest functioning hospital is treacherous.

“We have to drive through a heavily targeted area,” she told me, “just for me to have a safe birth.”

Lebanon, April 2026

The crisis sends shockwaves throughout the country, fracturing the future of the next generation. Children who fled to Beirut have been locked out of classrooms since the war began. For many others I met, education has been a distant memory for over a year, closing their doors first by the skirmishes that preceded 2026.

With hundreds of thousands of internally displaced people (IDPs) searching for sanctuary, public spaces have had to adapt into makeshift shelters. Schools, universities, churches, mosques, and even car parks have become temporary homes. But these spaces are overpopulated. Privacy is non-existent. Sanitation is a luxury; bathrooms designed for a few dozen students are now shared by hundreds.

During the winter months, families slept on thin mattresses laid over freezing marble floors with no heating. Without kitchens, they relied entirely on the grace of daily cooked meal deliveries. Under these conditions, sickness spreads. Most displaced families have empty pockets, unable to afford basic medicine or the transport to see a doctor.

I spoke to a volunteer physician treating families inside a converted school shelter.

“During the winter there were many illnesses, some severe like cancer and others with the flu, everyone needs to be checked. Now that the days are getting warmer, we are seeing people with other symptoms. This has been brought on by stress, chronic fatigue and a severe lack of vitamins”. 

Lebanon, April 2026

Anxiety has a tight grip on many people in Lebanon. Walk through any shelter and you will see a sea of faces illuminated by the screen of their smartphones. People are helplessly scrolling, watching news feeds, drone footage, or social media videos to see if the home they left behind still exists. For many, a pixelated video of a collapsing building is the only confirmation they will ever receive. During the ceasefire, some men risked the journey South to salvage what they could. Many found only rubble; others became targets before they could even reach their village.

Even as diplomats debate over peace talks, the skyline slowly reduces to rubble. Medics, journalists, UN peacekeepers, humanitarians and the Lebanese military have all found themselves in the crosshairs. For the average civilian, the dream of returning home is drifting further into myth.

Yet, if you look closely at the rubble of Lebanon, you do not just see destruction. You see an unbroken resilience. Every war, every economic collapse, and every disaster thrown at this country has failed to crush the spirit of its people. Instead, it forces them closer together. Hardship is a language the Lebanese understand all too well, and their response to it is always community.

Lebanon relief distribution, April 2026

In the neighbourhoods surrounding the overcrowded shelters, I watched ordinary citizens, people who are themselves struggling through Lebanon's ongoing financial crisis, show up with donations. Local businesses are doing what they do best, cooking hot meals, packaging food parcels, and donating clothes and bedding. Volunteer doctors and nurses are working around the clock, offering their skills for free. They are holding each other up, determined to ensure that tomorrow might be just a little bit easier than today.

They have not given up on each other. And we cannot afford to give up on them.

At Partners Relief & Development, we believe that solidarity is an action. It is the cooked meals when a family is unable to gather around their kitchen. It is the medicine provided when a doctor is out of reach, it is the financial support for families that cherish dignity when facing the hardest moments of their lives. The families caught in the crossfire in Lebanon are not numbers on a news channel. They are mothers looking for a safe place to give birth, farmers who want to plough their own soil, and children who deserve a future.

Why we're going "On the Run"

One of the things that makes me most proud of the Partners community is how often I witness people responding to the suffering in our world with love and action.  Whether it’s through financial support, service, advocacy, or prayers - I’m so grateful to be among people who are choosing not to look away.  It’s my conviction that even our small acts of love and solidarity are not wasted. 

The 40th Birthday Experiment

Last year, as I approached my 40th birthday, I was inspired by our community to do a small fundraiser run in support of our work with kids and communities in places like Myanmar, Syria, Iraq, Gaza, Bangladesh and more.   As I trained, I would think about our friends who have had to run from explosions, violence, and worse.   What started as a small experiment grew into a few other people joining in their own run and us raising over $5k.  In the grand scheme of things, I know that’s not a ton of money, but it’s not nothing.  Plus, having a fitness goal greatly helped manage my culinary hobbies :)

How far can we go?

This year, we’re hoping to invite even more people to join us for what could be a very meaningful movement that we’re calling “On the Run”.  As we run, walk, hike, or bike - we’ll be moving in solidarity with our siblings around the world caught in conflict- telling their story every step of the way.  There are currently 13 participants a part of the campaign so far, and have raised over $3,300 collectively! A message from a current On The Run participant: "My political worldview expanded in high school and college, when I was exposed to scholarship that helped me understand the structures of violence in our world. At the time, I was motivated to fight for justice and peace in our world through intellectual means, which led me to pursue a doctorate degree. But as I've gotten older, I've had a growing appreciation for where the intellectual meets the practical lived reality of those living through crisis. While reading and staying critically engaged is important, it also matters to supplement that work with direct action that meets the needs of those experiencing the most hardship. I decided to join "On the Run" as a way to put my values into action. By talking to folks about the issues Partners addresses, I'm able to draw on my knowledge to help others understand why our financial support and solidarity are crucial to helping women and children in war zones survive. While this is a small effort, raising awareness through fundraising can be a valuable tool in building support for those in need."  Warmly,  Aneliza

Why "On the Run"?

The name is more than just a play on words; it is a recognition of a heartbreaking reality. Right now, millions of people around the world are "on the run." They aren't running for fitness or for fun—they are fleeing conflict, escaping violence, and searching for the basic safety that every human being deserves.

When a family is forced to leave their home with nothing but what they can carry, they are "on the run" from a world that has, in many ways, turned its back on them.

It is easy to look away from the headlines. The suffering can feel too vast, the war too relentless. But at Partners, we believe love calls us to respond and that all of our collective efforts to bring hope and support matter. 

Turning Movement into Mission

By joining the On the Run peer-to-peer fundraiser, we are choosing to stand in solidarity with those who are displaced. We are using our freedom of movement to provide support for those whose movement is forced.

Whether you’re running a marathon, walking your neighborhood, or simply dedicating your next yoga session to this cause, you are helping provide:

Emergency relief for families in makeshift shelters.

Trauma care for children who have seen things no child should see.

Education and healthcare in areas where war has stripped everything else away.

Join the Movement

Last year was just the beginning. This year, we’re inviting you to take this journey with us and see how far we can go together.

Whether you're celebrating a birthday, a personal goal, or simply want to stand for peace, we invite you to start your own "On the Run" campaign. Just last week, a group of friends banded together to participate in a local 5k walk, raising over $1,380 for On the Run! [Start Your Page Here] Together, we can ensure that while many remain on the run from conflict, they are never running alone.

'To love is to act' In honor of Tyler Hoover.

Our son Tyler moved to Southeast Asia after college with the goal of helping Myanmar refugees on the Thai border. He ended up serving with a mission-oriented adventure outfitter company that invested in remote communities in Northern Shan state. Tyler quickly grew fond of the people of Myanmar, and this fondness grew into passion. His heart ached for the persecuted Rohingya and for the countless villagers forced to flee into the jungle or become refugees. 

Tyler used his ties with the US to be a voice for those experiencing injustice, particularly those whose voices are ignored or suppressed. As we learned of the Rohingya genocide and asked how to help, Tyler had an immediate answer: give to Partners.  He resonated with the Partners motto, “to love is to act,” and with their swift, daring response to crises around the globe. It was the very way Tyler himself had always lived. 

With Tyler’s endorsement of Partners, our family found great reward in giving to the organization. His brother even organized a volleyball tournament at his college to raise funds. 

One of Tyler’s dreams was to one day work for Partners, a dream that never came to be. After Tyler’s death at only 29 years old, we received many messages from people who knew him from different avenues of his life. Here are a few quotes that provide a glimpse of who he was and why we would like to honor him with a Frontline Fund.

“I think of this quote when I think of Tyler: ‘There are three things important in this life to be kind, to be kind, to be kind.’ Tyler was such a remarkable soul. So talented, so sweet, so fun. He had skills we only wished we had, yet he was attentive to teach them and help others out.” ~ A healthcare worker in Myanmar.

“I shared [the news of Tyler’s death] on our Instagram, and one of our past clients from Singapore posted this: ‘We’ll never forget this legend of a man with the kindest soul, craziest adventures, and the biggest heart.’ I just love that clients from years ago who we only had for a few days were impacted by Tyler like this.” ~ Tyler’s employer in Myanmar.

"Tyler spent so much of his time caring about others, like the time the power went out, and his immediate response was for us to check on his grandma!”~ One of Tyler's friends.

Tyler is greatly loved and deeply missed in our family. With his quick wit and bright spirit, he was always a catalyst for fun and laughter whenever we were together. We pray that, out of our loss, beauty can arise as children are given hope while their world is falling apart. 

Thank you for reading our story and joining us to support Partners! 

The Hoover Family.

Kurdistan Region of Iraq, March 2026

We came expecting urgency.

That is often how our work begins. When conflict escalates, we move closer to the uncertainty and to the displacement, because that is where children and families are most at risk. We are used to seeing how quickly war disrupts life: people fleeing with little notice, schools closing, routines breaking apart.

So when tensions in Iran escalated, we arrived prepared.

Prepared to listen. Prepared to respond. Prepared to understand where support might be needed most.

But what we encountered in northern Iraq, in the Kurdistan Region, challenged our assumptions.

At the border, there were no large crowds in distress. No informal settlements taking shape. No visible signs of families in immediate flight. Instead, there was a steady, calm movement of people crossing in both directions.

We spoke with one family heading into Iran. They were not fleeing. They were returning for a visit. They told us that in Kurdish areas across the border, daily life had not been directly affected. They felt safe enough to go back, even temporarily. Safe enough to continue with what felt familiar. It was not what we expected to hear.

Later, as a drone passed by, no one reacted. There was no visible alarm. People continued their conversations. Movement at the border did not stop. The delivery of destruction to somewhere distant passed by almost unnoticed.

Kurdistan Region of Iraq, March 2026

In quiet conversations, local officials shared what many already understood: responding to such moments is not always possible. The risks are complex, and often, the safest course is to carry on. And so life continues beneath that reality.

There is something difficult to reconcile in moments like these. Not the absence of conflict, but its proximity to everyday life. Families travel. Children play. Daily routines persist. At the same time, the presence of conflict is never far away. For us, this raises important questions.

How do we respond in contexts where needs are not immediately visible, but risks remain?

How do we support communities that appear stable, yet may be a brief moment away from crisis?

Not all crises present themselves in the same way. Sometimes they are loud and visible. Like in Lebanon now, where the crisis is 'worsening every hour'. Other times, they are quieter, unfolding just beyond what can be easily seen.

This day, as with any other, we were offered tea. For a moment, everything felt ordinary. And yet, just overhead, reminders of a wider reality continued to pass by. Unseen by some, unspoken by many, but present all the same.

Kurdistan Region of Iraq, March 2026

It is in these spaces, where normalcy and uncertainty exist side by side, that understanding becomes essential. Because even when a crisis is not immediately visible, it does not mean it is not there. It just looks different.

We hold the life-and-death urgency just beyond our sight. The children forced from their homes in Lebanon in recent days—where our partners are currently delivering food—the millions displaced across Syria and Iraq, and the escalating violence throughout the Middle East.

Students at our Phoenix Learning Center in Domiz Camp, in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq. The overall situation in the Middle East remains concerning. In Iraq, especially, wars and conflicts have already affected people for many years. Many families are still living in displacement camps and face daily hardships. Continued conflicts in neighboring countries are likely to increase their suffering. Life continues, but people closely follow the news and hope that the situation will improve and that these conflicts will end soon.

Minority communities have been particularly affected. For many years, they have faced marginalization, persecution, and ongoing challenges due to the lack of equality, justice, and security in their homeland. In areas that have experienced genocide and severe violence in the past, many people carry deep anxiety and uncertainty about their future. Many still feel that justice has never been achieved.

Students at our Phoenix Learning Center in Domiz Camp, in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq. Children are also deeply affected by these conflicts and wars. Many schools and educational facilities are currently closed, disrupting education. In addition, many children feel scared after hearing their parents and others talk about the current situation in the Middle East and the uncertainty of the future. Although children are influenced by everything happening around them, only a few openly speak about their fears and concerns.

Life has become increasingly difficult for vulnerable people and ordinary families who already struggle to afford basic needs. Inflation has worsened the situation, as fuel and food prices continue to rise, placing additional pressure on families already facing economic hardship.

In disputed regions (like the Nineveh Plain), where minorities live, there is significant uncertainty about the future. For many years, internal and external actors have been involved in these areas, often focusing more on controlling the region rather than rebuilding it. The presence of several armed groups has created additional tension and security concerns for local communities. In Iraq, there is ongoing tension and conflict between American forces and Iranian-backed militias. These groups have targeted key infrastructure, including Iraqi oil fields, hotels, airports, the U.S. embassy and consulate, and military headquarters. In response, the US forces have conducted airstrikes against pro-Iranian factions located in Mosul and other regions across the country.

Student at our Butterfly Learning Center in Chamishko Camp, in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq. People living in IDP camps in the Kurdistan region are particularly anxious about the current situation. Many fear drones, stray bullets, and nearby military activities. Recently, a woman in one of the internally displaced person (IDP) camps in the Duhok region was injured by stray bullets when local forces attempted to shoot down a militia drone that was targeting an oil field near the camp. The shooting continued overnight, causing fear among the camp residents and preventing many families from sleeping.

Many internally displaced people have nowhere else to go. Their homelands remain under the control of militant groups, lack basic services, security, safety, reconstruction and weak government administration, which creates further chaos and uncertainty. While living in IDP camps is already extremely difficult, the current security situation has added even more risks to their lives.

A Reflection & Update from Doug, Partners’ Chief Operations Officer

Syria relief distribution, January 2026 Last year, we shared a video titled "The War Zone Is Our Workplace." This year, those words have felt more true than ever. Across the Middle East, our staff doesn’t just work in conflict zones - they call them home. The danger is deeply personal. Just yesterday, our Iraq and Syria Director shared that an attack hit down the road from her apartment, while another landed near her children's school.

Despite the proximity of the front lines, our team continues to move toward the need.

Only a few days ago, three staff members returned from Myanmar, where they were delivering food and medicine to those displaced by the intense fighting. They were operating near the front lines and in the vicinity of frequent air strikes. In January, I was in Syria, standing alongside our local staff to distribute food and hygiene supplies to newly displaced families. Most of the people we met had already been forced to flee their homes four times. 

Syria relief distribution, January 2026 War has the same impact on families around the world; it takes their homes and their material possessions, but the real damage is deeper. It forces people into a life of constant uncertainty and daily survival. It’s not just a loss of things; it’s a constant, systemic attack on their sense of self. Yet against that pressure, parents and community members act with selfless love on behalf of their families and each other. In Northeast Syria, hundreds of people opened their homes this year to families fleeing conflict. They invited the “stranger” in, sharing their resources and daily lives. Love calls us to respond with them.

Our mission remains clear across all of the areas where we work: Free, full lives for children affected by conflict and oppression. In a world that feels increasingly heavy, we carry hope. We step into the gap where others can’t go.

Syria relief distribution, January 2026 Iran has known oppression for many years, and now the conflict has spread across the whole region. This is why we are currently seeking ways to support those displaced within Iran, while remaining ready to respond to those who are able to make it out or who are displaced by the fighting in the region.

Photo: Children gather at a Partners' distribution of food packs in Northeast Syria.

“This is a disaster…there is the big picture disaster and then the disasters inside every individual family.”

Little disasters within a major disaster. This is how Shervan, Partners Syria Manager, summed up the unfolding humanitarian crisis for Kurds in Northeast Syria. 

Over the last month, clashes between Kurdish-based forces (the SDF) and the Syrian Military put thousands of families in the crossfire. On Saturday, a tenuous ceasefire between the two groups was extended for 15 days. The UN has reported that over 160,000 people have come through Qamishli, but our team on the ground is hearing estimates closer to 320,00 people. The situation is so volatile that any numbers jump and shift nearly daily. 

Our team reports a new wave of displacement of families to the Qamishli area after a surge of conflict in Syria this weekend.

While a ceasefire has been declared between Kurdish forces and the Syrian military, we are hearing reports of continued skirmishes. We are gravely concerned for the children and families caught in the middle. 

The conflict may be complex, but our calling is not. Where kids are suffering, we will continue to stand alongside communities in Syria doing everything they can to keep their families safe.

Our team is assessing now how we can best respond. As the situation rapidly evolves, please pray for the safety of fleeing families and our team. We will keep you updated as our response unfolds. 

Your rapid response fuels our rapid response.

You can deliver relief supplies into the hands of our team on the ground at:

Donate Now

She’s from Shan State, Myanmar. She couldn’t find work, so at 18, she moved by herself to Thailand. She found work at a Noodle Shop and immediately realized that her joy of obtaining a job was quickly dashed by the inability to speak the local language. “I didn’t know how to respond. Sometimes, customers wrote their orders in Thai, but I couldn’t read them.”

Language for Yong This ambitious young woman saw a Thai language course for migrants on Facebook and applied. She was accepted and, “After studying Thai at SEED for six months, my life changed. I no longer have to wash dishes, and my salary has increased. I feel so grateful to SEED for accepting me into the class and for being patient with me.” 

The efforts and success are hers, the opportunity is created by people like you who give to support SEED, a Partners-supported educational program where migrants in Thailand can gain the gift of language and education, when circumstances often hold these things out of reach. 

$100 gives a youth living as a migrant in Thailand, the gift of language and education, opening up doors that are typically closed.

Children, youth, families and communities ask for education. Absolutely. We all watch the transformations from barely surviving, to places of thriving when the educational-light begins to glimmer, and whole communities start believing that there’s still hope. The power of reading, the opportunities of language—children thriving.

Thank you for caring for the Yong's in the world, for extending a hand, and a language, that allow for new seasons that look a lot more like thriving!!

Violent. Al-Hol Camp, in Northeast Syria. It’s a refugee camp AND a prison. In roughly one square mile of desert, over 28,400 people, mostly wives, widows, and children of refugees, are detained. 65% children.

Little Aliye* goes to the safe space. She’s lived in Al-Hol for nearly all of the 8 years of her life. Her mother is a team member at the Partners child-friendly space. Each morning, Aliye goes to school, and each afternoon she comes to the safe space to play, learn with friends, and feel a sense of security that is absent elsewhere in the camp.

A local team member shared, “Violence rates are increasing—physical and sexual violence from child-to-child. The team is doing their best to respond to this terrible phenomenon. We are very committed to delivering sessions to children—we do it through song and video. We are trying to spread awareness early so that the next generation is more aware of this matter. This means we work to overcome shyness and the idea of shame, and become more aware of this issue.”  

Without the space, Aliye’s days would be spent in her family tent, with her mother, six sisters, one brother, and a lonesome fan—with temperatures fluctuating between 122-131°F in the summer and 23°F in the winter. Instead, she’s experiencing hope and love in the form of laughter, safety, music, saturated color, honest conversations, and emergency healthcare. Your regular support ensures continued trauma healing in Partners child safe space, emergency aid availability at the only 24-hour medical clinic, and support for the compassionate local team, which all help stabilize this frightening place, which is significant when children mostly do as they please—missing out on education, leaving them vulnerable to extremist ideology.

“We have a session where we ask, What do you want to be when you grow up. One of the children said, ‘I want to become a three-wheeler driver’. He said this because he is very attached to his father, and this is his father’s skill. Every child has an aspiration for the future, but then they say, ‘only if we were not living in the camp. ’ Most of the boys want to become football players. They ask me, Do you know David Beckham? The girls are passionate about different things; some want to be tailors.” 

All want to be safe and unafraid. Let’s stay and make that a reality.

Continued aid cuts that went into effect on July 31, 2025, in refugee camps along the Thai-Myanmar border are making life increasingly difficult for thousands of people. Here is what you need to know about the current situation of migrant families in this region, from a team member on the ground. 

“Living in a refugee camp comes with many challenges. These families have been displaced from their home country due to a prolonged civil war. Myanmar continues to face a severe humanitarian crisis that deserves global attention.  This is what refugees along the Thai-Myanmar border are experiencing today, including limited access to education, reduced food supplies, and the complete cut of healthcare aid.

Education. 

Since the withdrawal of USAID from many foreign countries, refugee camps along the Thai-Myanmar border have experienced significant setbacks in education. In the past, USAID provided learning materials and essential school supplies, helping many children receive an education. With this support withdrawn, many students who relied entirely on aid can no longer attend school. Families in the camps often have no income and depend solely on assistance, which means that the once-available free education is now out of reach for many children. Many students cannot continue their education, and opportunities to study outside the camps have become even more limited.

Students at Mae La Refugee Camp, Thai-Myanmar border, February 2024.

‘With this support withdrawn, many students who relied entirely on aid can no longer attend school.’

Food

With the reduction in aid, many families are struggling to meet their basic nutritional needs. Previously, refugees received more than 100 Thai baht (per family member each month. At the end of July, this support was completely cut. With limited options within the camps and no legal opportunities to work outside the camps, families are unable to replace the loss of this support. 

Food preparation at Mae La Refugee Camp, Thai-Myanmar border, February 2024.

‘Food prices are rising, and many families are facing serious food shortages.’

Healthcare

Health is one of the most basic human needs, but many refugees are unable to afford proper care. In earlier years, aid helped cover basic health needs, providing some relief for families. Since the USAID cuts, many now face even greater struggles in accessing treatment. For those who could not afford healthcare even when aid was available, the situation has worsened. Many families are deeply concerned about the lack of future support for medical needs.”

Community Health activities on the Thai-Myanmar border, August 2024.

For over 30 years, this community has stood in the gap on behalf of families living along the Thailand-Myanmar border seeking safety and freedom for their children. 

Our efforts to reach families on the fringes with healthcare, education, and personalized care will continue. 

A gift of $90 provides 5 migrants with a guide and translator through the Thai medical system, covering costs for medicine and care. 

Five loved ones. A grandmother. A brother. A best friend.

We stay, with love. 

To stay with us, and them:

Photo: Eh Ka Pu Moo with her father, grandmother and older brother.

Moo Blut Paw is a community health worker. She completed her medic training at Naw Po Refugee camp in 2024. She used to work at a clinic Partners funds, and now works at a clinic that is a 2 minute motorbike ride away from a pregnant mother named Naw Law Eh Wah. Naw Law Eh Wah is a 29 year old mother of a curious and quiet 3 year old boy, and is pregnant with her second child. Reserved and soft-spoken, this gentle mother thoughtfully prepared for the birth of her baby knowing that she would deliver at home. Local hospitals are targeted locations by the junta and military government, and community members don’t dare go unless they have a life-threatening emergency. 

On February 16, 2025, Eh Wah’s normal pregnancy slipped quickly into a terrifying delivery as they discovered a stuck placenta. She started bleeding internally. She took that 2 minute motorbike ride to the closest clinic, but it was too late.

Myanmar is at war, still, and very little is going right. Summer rains bring flooding and increased risk of illnesses. Civil war has eaten up the country’s budget, bringing the health system to its knees. There’s fighting almost everywhere. Even getting around is difficult; help might be a day away by truck, bike, or boat during the rainy season.

Then, the earthquake in March caused massive infrastructure damage and became an opportunity for the military government to further harm communities in regions they want to control.

15 year old Saw Eh Taena lives here. He has asthma and when he gets sick, he can’t breathe properly. Anyone that has ever watched a child gasp for air knows—it’s frightening.

Amidst the fall of the Assad Regime in December 2024, a monumental moment in Syrian history was also marked by another historical moment in the Kurdish territory. Displacement in Northeast Syria is back at record-breaking numbers. Many families, individuals and minorities have fled to the Kurdish territory of Syria. But through the violence and persecution families have endured, one undeniable truth has emerged: the resilience of children displaced by war.

The Silent Suffering of Families.

The number of Internally Displaced People (IDP) in northeast Syria has reached an alarming scale, with thousands of families forced to leave their homes, primarily from Afrin. Many of these families sought refuge in Sahba, south of Aleppo, during the civil war that began in 2011. Now these families have been displaced once again due to the ongoing conflict. Families are living in makeshift shelters, abandoned buildings, and repurposed schools. Resources are stretched thin, with little to no support from international humanitarian organizations. Families struggle to stay warm in overcrowded shelters.

As our relief team visited one of the shelters, the air was thick with the smell of burning plastic – a seemingly desperate line of defense against the freezing temperatures. Hygiene facilities are inadequate or non-existent.

While host communities have done their best to step in by cooking meals for the displaced, the thousands of people arriving mean more food support is needed than they alone can provide. Parents who have fought tirelessly for their children’s well-being are exhausted, left hoping that someone will stand alongside them to keep them safe, healthy, and in school.

The Weight of Trauma

No matter where it happens, war steals childhoods. Many children have witnessed atrocities beyond comprehension. In an abandoned regime military housing complex, where over 3,000 families are now taking refuge, a mother recounted to us how her two sons had been injured by mortar strikes when they were living in Sahba. Some watched as loved ones were executed, while others recall harrowing escapes through war-torn landscapes.

In Raqqa, a 14-year-old boy named Said told us his family was forced to flee Sahba with nothing but the clothes on their backs. “I don’t know why we had to leave,” he said. “They just wanted our land.” His family endured freezing nights on the roadside during their journey to Raqqa, and though they had found shelter in a school that Partners had previously helped rebuild, they were struggling to stay warm. “It’s so cold,” Said whispered, his voice reflecting the hardship he had endured.

Children a Symbol of Resilience

Despite these dire circumstances, children continue to be the unwavering torchbearers of hope.

The schools that have been repurposed into shelters still echo with the sounds of young voices playing. In a repurposed school just outside of the city of Qamishli, where 96 now reside, hanging on to hope, children climb atop water trucks to play, momentarily escaping the weight of displacement.

In Raqqa, groups of children chase each other around schoolyards, creating makeshift goals out of rocks and kicking a deflated football that they found when they moved into the premises. Their laughter, a stark contrast to the grief their parents carry.

Their spirits refuse to be broken, and they continue to find joy - even as they live in grave uncertainty.

Carrying the Torch

While governments turn a blind eye and larger international organizations hesitate, children in Northeast Syria continue to remind the world of the urgency of their situation. They embody a future that is not yet lost, a group of people that refuse to be erased. Their perseverance when faced with immense hardship is a testament to the resilience of the Syrian spirit.

Even in displacement, even in suffering, these children are the light that refuses to be extinguished.

Photo: An empty classroom at an education center in Afghanistan.

This past February, Partners team members traveled to Afghanistan to visit an education center we work alongside. 

“This is the pain we all share,” commented a teacher at the education center. She was referring to the plight of women in Afghanistan, particularly the laws banning women and girls from attending school beyond 6th grade. 

The Independent described these restrictions succinctly in this headline “Can’t work, sing, travel, study: All the ways the Taliban are restricting lives of women in Afghanistan” 

Photo: AFP via Getty Images, showing the extensive damage from the earthquake.

Earlier today, a massive 7.7 magnitude earthquake struck the heart of Saigang and Mandalay in Myanmar. The impact was felt as far as Thailand, with our team reporting significant tremors and mild damage to our KGED center in Mae Sot.

In Myanmar, tremors were felt across several towns, including Sagaing, Mandalay, Kyaukse, Pyin Oo Lwin, and Shwebo in upper Myanmar. According to our Shan team member, the impact was also felt significantly across Shan State. 

Early reports from the Mandalay area have catalogued the collapse of bridges, temples, and high-rise buildings. Hospitals in Mandalay are being inundated with survivors, with some receiving treatment on the street due to the overflow of patients. 

Photo: Rohingya children in Sittwe, Myanmar after Cyclone Mocha ripped through the community in 2023.

If we told you about a community of refugees, where over half a million of the population are children, what community comes to your mind? 

Don’t worry, this isn’t a trick question. With so many children affected by conflict and oppression around the world, it’s gut wrenching how quickly it takes to think of one. 

But what if we told you that the community we’re referring to, this time, is one of the most persecuted minorities in the world? 

If you answered Rohingya, you’d be correct. 

The stateless Muslim minority group has been subjected to grave human rights abuses by Myanmar authorities for decades. Violence in September 2017 forced an additional 890,000 to flee to Bangladesh, leaving them in an extremely vulnerable state. There are still over 150,000 displaced in Myanmar with limited freedom of movement or access to food, water, sanitation, healthcare and education.