The Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine was a publication and storytelling hub run by the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement from 1986 to 2023. The Magazine uncovered powerful stories of disasters, climate change, health emergencies and conflict, as told by people around the world.

In a small town in Slovakia’s southwest, Romy Mikušincová grew up dreaming about discovering the origin of the stars and the universe. It was her curiosity, she says, that made her interested in pursuing a career in science – specifically in astrophysics and theoretical physics. Today, she is living her dream. She studies theoretical physics and astrophysics at the Roma Tre University, where she researches one of the greatest mysteries of astrophysics: black holes. Black holes are created when stars at the end of their life become so dense they collapse in on themselves and even light cannot escape their gravity. Still, there is much to learn. “The study of black holesisn’t a time-limited projectbecause we discovernew informationevery day”, she says.“Currently, I’m working on a simulationof black hole surveillanceforIXPE (Imaging X-ray Polarimetry Explorer), a satellite that will be launchedby the end of 2021”. “Giving purpose to my free time” The time and effortrequired of a theoretical physics student is immense. But even thatis not the only thing that keeps Romy busy.Just as her passion for science grew as a teenager, Romy began another journey as a volunteer for theSlovak Red Cross.“Volunteering was interesting mainly because I wanted to help others, and to give purpose to my free time,” she says. These days, that free time is mostly spent ona newprojectthat addresses the needs of young peopleby discussingtopics that arenotoften talked about, but which are key social and humanitarian challenges. “Our main topics arehate-speech, peer pressure,cyberbullying andgender equality,” says Romy, adding that due to Covid-19 restrictions, most of that work today is online. The study of black holes may seem like light years from the everyday world of young people and volunteering. But to Romy, there is a clear connection. After all, the scientific method of asking questions, investigation and solving complex problems can also be very useful in the human sphere. “It’s a great advantage when someone from a science background enters the volunteering circle with the mindset of dealing with problems until they are solved,” she explains. Accomplishing great things This dual path of science and humanitarian concern is not new to Romy. Milan Holota, the director at Romy’s secondary school, said her preference for science-related subjects was clear early on, as was her desire to make the world around her a better place. “Her favourite (subjects) were the natural science classes, and she was exceptional in her extracurriculars,” he said, referring to her after-school work with the Red Cross, where she became one of its most active members. But she did not do all of this on her own. She recalls that the support oftwo women –hermother and her secondary school physics teacher– wereessential to her pursuit of a career in science and research. This kind of support can be essential for young women and girls interested in science. For many, such a pathis blocked by cultural attitudes that steer girls away from male-dominated topics such as mathematics and science. Accordingto theUNESCO Institute for Statistics (UIS),there is a clear gender gapin the science field –only 30 per centof the world’s researchers are women.It was even less in Romy’s class at university.At the beginning of her university studies,onlya fourth of the studentswere women. “I thinkit is mainly becausegirls are not encouraged topick careers in naturalscience,” she says.“I want to tell allwomen and girls tobuild strong relationshipswith each other,to stop belittling one anotherand to help one anotherbecause I thinkthat’s how we accomplish truly great things”.

For Eva Turró, science has almost been about much more than a career. Her passion for biology has allowed her tosee the world with different eyes, to understand, respect and take care of the environment and the people around her. Born into a family ofdoctors,sheremembers as a child watching her grandfatherhelping families as a medicalpractitionerin her hometown in Barcelona, Spain.While medicine became a tradition in herfamily,she chose tolearn about humans and their interaction with the world through a differentlens. “I thought that it would be a good ideato try and help peoplefrom a biological perspective,” says Turró, who most recently used that approach in her work as an emergency response delegate for the Spanish Red Cross in Mozambique and Honduras following devastating storms in 2019 and 2020. In the flooding, devastation and disruption that comes after major storms, the household and neighborhood ecosystems that maintain people’s lives is turned upside down. Clean water is suddenly hard to come by. Washing and going to the bathroom can’t be done in the normal way. People are stressed, hungry, sad and they may have to stay in homes or shelters with many others. It’s a biological environment where diseases and bacteria can thrive and easily spread. Eva’s job is to use her knowledge of the natural and human world to help people in these situations understand the science and take steps to keep themselves safe. “I get to go into communities and have the chance of explaining things scientifically,” she says. “Things like ‘Why is hand-washing important?’,‘Why do weneed to prevent diseases like diarrhoea?’and ‘Why is it important to treat the water?’” Her knowledge comes in very handy when helping these communities find or restore access to clean water and sanitation systems, as well as encourage coping tactics that preventthe spread of diseases such as diarrhoea, cholera or other infectious diseases. The path of science and humanity While Eva’s desire to help others began at an early age, her particular path became clear after she finished her studies and spent some timetraveling. She soon realizedshe could also help people far from her hometown of Barcelona and so she opted todo something in the humanitarian world.One way to do that was to connect her desire to help others with her scientific leanings. Her first international assignments were as hygiene promoter in Mozambique after Cyclone Idai in 2019 and in Honduras after two hurricanes, Eta and Iota, smashed into Central America within two weeks of each other in December 2020. Those two storms caused widespread flooding affecting more than 7.5 million people in the region, of which 4 million are in Honduras. “We worked toreach communities and shelterswhere people have found refuge after the hurricane,” Eva says of her work in Honduras.“Not only through awareness-raising activities,but also distributing menstrual hygiene kits”. An invaluable opportunity Eva’s scientific background has allowed hernot onlytoshare whatshe has learned as a biologist, but also to learn from othersandform real bonds with people from many different walks of life. “To listen to the life stories from all over theworld … To go anywhere in the world, not just as a traveller, but to help others…This is invaluable”.

It’s one of those stories that even those involved find hard to swallow. “I think if someone told me this story, I wouldn’t believe it…but it happened to me,” says Hassan Al Kontar, a 38-year-oldSyrian refugee currently living in British Columbia, Canada For several months in 2018, Al Kontar was known as “the man at the airport” in the news, after he wasstranded at the Kuala Lumpur airport for 7 months. His story began in 2011 when conflict broke out in Syria while he was living in the United Arab Emirates (UAE). Not wanting to go back to Syria — to face civil war and likely conscription into the army — he stayed in UAE until his visa expired. Ultimately deported to Malaysia, he sought asylum in numerous countries, including Canada. In the meantime, he waited in the airport. And waited. He slept in airport chairs and in a small enclave under an escalator. He made friends with the cleaning staff who brought him food and coffee (the coffee shops were in a part of the airport he couldn’t access). Boredom and incessant boarding announcements were constant companions as the days ticked slowly by.He missed important family events, like his brother’s wedding, which he watched via Skype. Desperate and frustrated, he turned to social media, quickly becoming an internet and media phenomenon. News reports referred to him as a real-life version of Tom Hanks’s character in the film, The Terminal. “It’s the small things — taking a shower, washing your clothes, getting medicine — things you do all the time that suddenly become impossible”, explained Hassan. “I remember day 122. I felt something strange. I could not tell what it was until I discovered that someone had opened a door to the outside. It was the first time in 120 days that I smelled fresh air.” Finally, in November 2018, a private group of Canadians succeeded in sponsoring Hassan’s request for residency and he boarded a plane to British Columbia. Canada was the first country in the world to introduce a private sponsorship programme, which allows five individual Canadians or permanent residents to collectively sponsor a refugee. “Ordinary individuals are directly involved in saving lives,” says Hassan. “If that’s not being a hero, what is?” From limbo to inclusion Hassan’s airport experience was just one example of thelegal limboin which refugees often find themselves: stuck at borders, unable to move forward or back, as they try to make asylum claims and wait for some sign of hope. Today, Hassan’s story is an example of what can happenwhen refugees are given the chanceto make a life for themselves and give back to their new communities. In Hassan’s case, part of giving back means putting on the well-known red vest worn by volunteers and staff of the Canadian Red Cross. Inspired by the work of the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement in Syria and in many other conflict and emergency zones around the world,Hassan decided to help othersas his adopted country coped with a worsening COVID-19 pandemic. “Working with the Red Cross is a dream come true,” he says. “It’s my way of giving back to the community that accepted me and gave me a chance. It’s my way of showing the Canadian people that they were not wrong in giving me a chance.” Afraid of forgetting Still, life is not always easy for a refugee half-way around the world from his family. “It’s my destiny and the destiny of every refugee to live between two worlds,” he says. It’s the little things — the aroma of coffee or fresh rain on a hot street — thatbring back memories of his home in Syria, where his family has a small farm. “I am afraid of forgetting,” says Hassan, as he prepares a Syrian style coffee in his flat in Vancouver. “I have not seen my mother, my siblings, for 12 years. I do not want to lose the connection.” What does it mean to be Syrian? Now Hassan’s mission is tohelp his family and other refugeesfind a similar sense of safety. He works with a group that helps sponsor other refugees and he continues posting on social media to raise awareness about the plight of refugees.He even wrote a bookcalledMan @ The Airport. “I want the western world to understand [Syrian refugees] more,” he says. “To bring the gap closer between our two cultures. What does it mean to be Syrian? To be powerless? To be voiceless?” But Hassan is hopeful. Ironically, he says the restrictions imposed due tothe COVID-19 pandemic has helped many people better understand the plight of refugees. “During the pandemic, when all the borders were closed, people could begin to understand how it has always been for refugees. When all airports were forbidden areas, when all our passports, regardless of the color, were equally useless. This is still is the situation for most refugees in the world today.” -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this,click here.

For many years, Osama consideredthe theatre his second home,a place where he could embody different characters, share poetic words of wisdom and see the smiles and laughter on the faces of people in his community. “Every time I appear on the stage and see the smiles of children, I feel satisfied,” says Osama, a gregarious talkative man whose passion for acting has provided some refuge from the scourge and heartaches of war. But Osama’s ability to pursue this dream suffered a serious blow when his beloved theatrewas bombed and reduced to a pile of rubble. “My dreams were shattered,” says Osama, standing on the ruins of what was once a spacious, airy theatre, capable of holding hundreds of people. “My dreams were here in this very place,” he says, looking out of a field of broken bricks and stone. “Here, we used to bring smiles to people’s faces … before the war began.” Most of the theatre pieces his company produced were comedies and dramas that brought happiness and laughterwhile also sharing purposeful messages. A new humanitarian role After the theatre was bombed, with the accumulated pain and despair of war weighing on him, Osama started looking for a new role: something that would again bring him joy and help him to rebuild his sense of purpose. His journey led him to the doors of theYemeni Red Crescentin Al Hudaydah. Now Osamauses his gift for comedy and drama to educate people through interactive theatre sketches. The performances also convey important messages about how to stay healthy and safe in a context where war has shattered many of the basic food, water, health and sanitation systems that keep communities safe and well. “I remember the first time I participated in an awareness-raising activity with the Yemeni Red Crescent Society,” Osama says . “I was just giving children advice about washing hands, but in a funny way. I remember their laughter at my attempts to correct some of my mistakes. “One time, I was doing a comedy show to teach, in a comical manner, the right ways to wash hands, but I forgot one of the important ways to rub your fingers. One of the kids got up and hit me over the head in a comedic style and said, ‘The artist forgot to tell us this step.’ He started explaining it like a member of a theatrical troupe. It was the first time I felt I was really helping ordinary people cope with the challenges of war.” Inspired by the work of the Yemeni Red Crescent in Al Hudaydah, Osama has not only played a role in the Red Crescent’s outreach programmes, but also became an active volunteer in the provision of first aid, food distribution, emergency response, and even the transportation of wounded people and bodies. Alongside all this, the energetic father and husband works various jobs, such as tending trees around the city, to support his family. Deeper into the role Osama remembers one situation that pushed him even deeper into his role as a volunteer:a dengue outbreak in Al Hudaydahthat made an already desperate situation in the governorate even worse. While 20 million Yemeni people lacked access to basic healthcare, half of the country’s health facilities were either partially or completely damaged by war, leading to dramatic increases of endemic diseases and epidemics. “The dengue epidemic reached our home where I live with 16 members of my family, including four children. It was difficult to access healthcare and even to purchase medicines due to the economic situation. I took my eight-year-old brother Rakan to the Health Centre of the Yemeni Red Crescent Society, hoping he would be cared for at the centre. He was treated there until the staff were certain that he had recovered and was not in danger anymore. “This kind of assistance was not provided because of my work as a volunteer in the Red Crescent — it is available to all members of the community.The centre provides medical care services to all, and the number of beneficiaries is more than 1,700 people.” “The moment I arrived at the centre, holding my brother in my arms, was like a dream. I went there as a person in need and was received by a team that helps everyone. I realised after my brother’s recovery that working with the Red Crescent was also an opportunity to give something back, to return the favour, so to speak." In the meantime, this gregarious, outgoing volunteer can also nurture the stage actor that is always inside him, never far from the surface. “Even if I cannot appear on stage, I can at least do this for the Yemeni Red Crescent Society as a volunteer and play around for the kids,” Osama says with a smile. “That makes me happy and proud.” -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this,click here.

Food has always a central part of Houda Al-Fadil’s life. Some of her fondest childhood memories center around preparing dishes such as makdous (pickled or oil-cured, stuffed eggplant) with her mother in her home town on the outskirts of Damascus. “We sat around our mom when she prepared it,” she recalls. “We did the same when she prepared mulukhiyah,” she adds, referring to a leafy plant from the region used like spinach in stews or with lamb and rice. “These were happy times and wonderful get-togethers with my mom and sisters.” Then war broke outand the happy days ended. Houda’s husband lost his job and the family faced tremendous hardships. That’s whenher cooking skills came in handy. “I cooked kibbah (croquettes filled with lamb or chicken) and I prepared hacked parsley, stuffed zucchinis and grape leaves,” she says. “For those celebrating the arrival of a baby, I supplied wrapped candies. I made pancakes.” The key ingredient Today whenHouda cooks mulukhiyah or uzi(pastry stuffed with peas, sautéed nuts, vegetables, meat and rice ), it has an entirely different meaning. Houda now lives in Türkiye, a country that welcomed her after she and her family fled Syria, terrified and weary after years of indiscriminate shelling, random abductions, and a lack of opportunity and future for her children. In her new home of Kahramanmaras, in central southern Türkiye, Houda’s cooking skills are the now key ingredient in her quest for a new life. They not only provide asmall income and meaningful employment,they offer a way to connect with people in her new community. Her new culinary adventure began when Houda enrolled in a traditional Turkish cooking course offered at acommunity center run by the Turkish Red Crescent, supported in part with funds from theEuropean Unionand operated as part of a partnership with theInternational Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies (IFRC). There are 16 such centres in Türkiyeand they are open to people from both Syrian refugee and Turkish communities. They help connect people with lost loved ones, provide child-friendly spaces, and offer a range of services from vocational training to business development, psychosocial support, health referrals, among many other things. “I signed up in a cooking course, a sport class and a course in agriculture,” Houda says. “We grew pepper and tomatoes. The experience was great. I enjoyed all the courses, but I found great pleasure in the cooking course.” Sharing recipes, sharingfriendship Now she is able to make a living much as she did before the war by cookinguziandmulukhiyahin the Turkish style.“There were Turkish and Syrian women with us. The Turkish women learned from us the Syrianstyle ofcookingandthey taught us the Turkish way.” “I learned how to cookmanti(traditional Turkish dumplings)andtarhana[a spicy Turkish soup].Ialso learnedthat we had many things in commonwith the Turkishway.” NowHoudahas a small but growing list of customerswho use Facebook, Instagram and WhatsApp to place their orders, whichthe customers thenpicked up ororwait for them to be handdelivered by the chef herself.Houdaalso sells her dishes at small events calledkermes. “Thisactivity has served me well.It directed me to the right path.” Still,fitting in to a country with a different language and culture is not always easy.FatmaBeyaz, an interpreter at the Turkish Red CrescentCommunityCentre inKahramanmaras, saysHouda’s growingculinary skills will help her and her family find a seat at the table in their new Turkishcommunity. “Houdais a very happy and positive person when she came to theCommunityCenter, but still she needed somesupport,”saysBeyaz, who has served as a kind of a personal mentor toHouda. “Now her confidence and her social skills increased. She found a community and started to make in income for herself.” Meanwhile,Houdais already thinking long-term.“I have a dream; I have a dream to open a little restaurant,” she says.“Arestaurant that offersall kind of dishes: Turkish, Syrian orfrom elsewhere.I hope I could open such restaurant,in which people from Syria, Türkiye and other places can come togetherand strengthenthetiesbetween them.” -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this,click here. We caught up again with Houda in 2023 following the devastating 6 February earthquake that affected hundreds of thousands people in Türkiye and Syria. You can read that story here.

Molnárné Tomi Tünde spent much of her childhood in the kitchen next to her grandmother, learning thelocal cuisineand the ingredients that people in her part ofnorth-eastern Hungaryknew how to find in the landscape, or grow from the region’s fertile ground. Nearly everyone at that time had a garden, some sheep and a few goats. But successivewaves of economic and social upheavalchanged all that and many people found themselves out of work and distanced from the land. Many of the old ways of making delicious food from local plants and animals fell by the wayside in a world where the main foods people could afford where industrial commodities produced at a large scale. No wonder that even this energetic and dynamic woman — a force for various good causes in her community — never conceived that she would end up helping to reinvigorate some of her region’s traditional cuisine as a gourmet cheese master. “I always liked cheese,” she says. “But I never dreamt of producing it.” After all, Tünde was a social worker, not a chef.As a Red Cross employee, she was well known for organizing blood drives and other initiatives to help those hardest hit by the changes in the local economy. Cooking up a new approach Butthenthe Hungarian Red Crossbegancooking up a planthat would changeTünde’slife,while alsohelpingturn around the lives of many people in the area who were going through hard times. The idea wasto createa sustainable social enterprise that wouldgenerate enough income togive marginalised people(with mental or physical disabilities,health problems or who aremembers of ethnic minority groups)achance to learn new skills, earn asteady income, andfinda place to belong. The product thatthe Hungarian Red Cross hadsettledon was goat cheese,which would beproduced in a small factory using milk from asmall, nearbygoatfarm. To some in the region, itfirstseemed like a pretty radical idea. “This is the first goatfarm here inMezőcsát,”Tündenoted.“The people here were surprised, and even more about the fact, thatthe Red Cross is doing something like that.Here, the Red Cross ismainlyknownforblood donation.” The cheese factory and farmgot off the ground with funding from the Hungarian government, the European Union and the Hungarian Red Cross, andaftermany long daysput in byRedCross employees, from the local branch to Budapest,the new cheese brand was officially launched in April 2019. The idea came from Red Cross staffwhowanted toexplorenew approaches to humanitarian workin whichasocial enterprisewouldcreate a sustainable way ofhelp disadvantaged residents of the region to find theirown long-term livelihood,instead ofonlygivingfood or other kinds of donations. At the same time, this new humanitarian business modelwouldgive socially conscious food consumers a waytoconnectthe food they lovewith things they care about: preserving local food traditions, environmental sustainability,acts of kindnessand solidarityand,last but not least,tasty andhealthy foodsto enjoy(all the farm’s cheeses aremade with no preservatives and artificialflavors). In the end,the goat farm was not only accepted, it took off. The Red Cross’s cheese brand,Kis-Hortobágy Major,launched in April 2019,(see here alink to itsFacebookpage and a recentYouTubepromotional video), has already found a home on shelves in markets fromMezőcsátto Budapest. Becoming a master cheese maker Fortunately, when leadership from theHungarian Red Crossasked Tünde to consider directing the operation, she did have some experience to fall back on. “My grandmother and great-grandmother used to make cheese,” she says. “They owned cows, so [the process] was not entirely new to me.” Still Tünde had some homework to do. Just passed her 50th birthday, Tünde reinvented herself, putting all her culinary and people skills to the test. Fortunately, her husband Tibor had some experience with animals and took on the task of running the goat farm. Tünde, meanwhile, sharpened her own culinary talents and studied to become a certified master cheese maker. “We usually wake up very early, at 4 o’clock,” she says. “We drink our coffee with my husband. We start working at 5 o’clock, I go to the cheese factory, and he goes to the farm.” In the beginning,there were 10 people taking care of 50 goatsand preparing the handmade gourmet cheese in a modern and accessible factory building. Today,Kis-Hortobágy Major is financially self-sustainableand its farmstead housesmore than 90 goats, 200 hens and quails and it boasts a large vegetable garden, giving work to the employees who prepare dairy products ranging from smoked cheese to orda, parenica, yoghurt and many other products. A growing farm, a big family “I never worked at a farm before, but I like it,” says Norbi, one of the farm workers, whose tasks on any given day might range from feeding the chickens to milking goats or tending the garden. One of the workers in the cheese factory says she’s also learned a variety of new skills. “I’ve learned how cheese is produced, I had no clue about it earlier,” she says. Aside fromproviding jobs to people who really need them, Kis-Hortobágy Majoris playing a role in a growing movement that celebrates locally produced, artisanal productsas a key part of finding solutions to a range of social and environmental challenges. But for many of the workers, it’s about even more. “For me it’s not just a working place, it’s like a family,” says one of the farm workers. That family spirit comes through during meals when team members sit down together to share the fruits of their labors. Using their own goat cheese to make the meal is only natural since goat cheese is used in a wide range of regional dishes, from salads to pastries and meat dishes. But it’s not just Tünde’s talents in the kitchen that make this social enterprise a success. It’s also her natural compassion and experience as a social worker that make Kis-Hortobágy Major a special place to work. “I don’t think of her as a boss,” says one of the cheese factory workers. “I think of her rather as a friend. It is very good to work with her. She listens to me and helps me in every aspect of life.” The recipe: goat cheese blueberry cheesecake -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this,click here.

Born in a tiny fishing village on theisland of Abaco in the Bahamas, Lovely Reckley was raised on a cuisine straight from the sea. “Growing up in Fox Town, we were actually right on the water,” she recalls. “The waves put you to sleep and they wake you up in the morning.” “We basically grew-up on seafood,” she recalls. “We would eat other stuff, but the seafood we really loved. My mom was a great cook. I watched and saw everything she did and I really learned a lot from her.” So it’s no wonder that many years later,Lovely runs a small restaurant in Marsh Harbourknown for its affordable, delicious traditional Bahamian comfort foods: seafood, chicken dishes and burgers, always served up with a new, personal and innovative twist. Aptly namedLovely’s Delight,the restaurant also became a critical community hub in the months after Hurricane Dorianslammed into her home island of Abaco last year, and many islanders lost literally everything. Homes. Belongings. Many also lost loved ones. A scary time It was a scary time, says Lovely, who was evacuated from Abaco along with her husband just a day before the storm hit due to her husband’s medical condition. “I had to leave the island, leave my children and my grandchildren and my great-grandson behind,” she says. “It was scary becausethere was no communication until a few days after the hurricaneto know if everybody was ok.” “It was like about a week after the hurricane that we found out that I’d lost my home and everything in the home, our vehicles and everything.” Lovely almost lost her husband, who had a stroke the eve of the storm. And she almost lost the restaurant, a beloved local fixture that was also known as the home base for Lovely’s long-time commitment to providing meals to local children in need. “We had a lot of damage to the restaurant,” she recalls. The Hurricane Burger Ultimately, the restaurant pulled Lovely and her husband through — becoming their new home after a renovation made possible by the American Red Cross and the CORE added a new living space to the small structure. And because Lovely’s Delight was one of the first businesses to reopen, it provided a place for people to gather after the storm, easing their minds and their hunger pains. “We could get up and running and help people with food, which was on the island but because so many homes were destroyed, and people were living in tents, they couldn’t cook for themselves.” So once again, Lovely’s Delights became a base for making meals for people in need of some comfort during hard times. “Because of the help that we got from CORE and the Red Cross we got our building back in shape so that we can truly save our community,” Lovely says. “I was able to cook meals, make bread … That was a big help.” Meanwhile, Lovely’s Delight is a real family affair with kids and grandkids prepping and serving dishes such as “The Hurricane Burger” (in honor of the many storms people here have weathered), spicy chicken wings with names like “Da Burner”, and burrito-style wraps made with lobster, fish, chicken and shrimp. Now it’s the grandkids who are picking up culinary tips from their very own local celebrity chef grandma. “When I first got the restaurant, all of the children were involved,” she says. “Now it’s myself and my two grand-daughters and we have a few other workers that also come help. They’re always there to help out.” Lovely’s fried fish with peas ‘n’ rice

“When you live as an undocumented migrant, one thing that keeps you alive is contact,” says Izzy, a migrant from Sierra Leone whose simple daily encounters with people going through similar struggles have been seriously diminished due to Covid-19. With the pandemic looming over everyone’s daily life,migrants such as Izzy face particular hardships. Cut off even from small jobs and activities,they are not eligible for social benefits that provide the stability needed to cope with a pandemic. “Because these people are considered illegal, they cannot rent a house, they cannot work legally, they don’t have social security, they don’t have bank accounts,” says Joquebede Mesquita of the Company of Friends, which provides practical and legal assistance to undocumented migrants living in Netherlands. Some, she says, end up sleeping in the street, afraid of sharing a room with people who may be infected. “A lot of people want to go home to their parents,” she says. “They say, ‘If we are going to die, we want to die together’.” These stories are a stark reminder: while COVID has been cruel for all of us, it has been catastrophic for migrants.Even in the most developed countries, migrants often don’t have access to critical Covid coping mechanismssuch as mental health care, safe housing(since they often share apartments) or working conditions(with proper hygiene protection measures), according to the IFRC reportLeast protected, most affected: Migrants and refugees facing extraordinary risks during the COVID-19 pandemic.On top of all that, they are even farther from loved ones and moreexposed tomedia disinformation in languages they may not fully master. Still, there are many bright spots amid the challenges. Born in Brazil, Claudia has struggled to find unofficial jobs while taking care of her four-year-old daughter Maria. But she now has a steady job and Maria is enrolled in school, learning Dutch. “She plays with other children and has more contact with kids her own age,” Claudia says. For Izzy, as well, the challenges he and other migrants face have only intensified his desire to something positive for others. “I’ve stayed here a long time and this country has supported me,” says Izzy, who likes to help out at a local shelter and food service for other undocumented migrants in need of a warm meal and a welcoming space. “So, I think I have to give something back.” Claudia, from Minas Gerais, Brazil Originally from the state of Minas Gerais, Brazil, Claudia has been working as anundocumented migrant in The Netherlands for a year. “I feel bad because I am considered illegal here,” says Claudia. “But I have been able to find work here and I feel safer here. I can walk on the streets with my daughter. The quality of life I can give my daughter is better than in Brazil. So, I feel more secure than in Brazil, but less secure because I am illegal”. As evening falls, Claudia and her daughter Maria take a break on a bench in Amsterdam. “Corona has made life difficultbecause so many things are closed,” she says. “There is nowhere to go and I have to spend a lot of time with Maria, sitting in the very small room that I rent.” Children in Netherlands begin school soon after their fourth birthday. “I am very happy now that Maria has started school … I want to learn Dutch but Corona has made it more complicated because a lot of the schools are closed. And with Maria it was difficult to find time to study. And now that she is at school maybe I can learn Dutch at a school in the future.” “Maria has a better life now,” says Claudia. “She plays with other children and has more contact with kids her own age. Maria is very happy.She talks about her new school all the time. She is learning Dutch. The school is very good compared to what we had in my neighbourhood in Brazil.” “Since the Covid-19 pandemic began, it has been a terrible time,” says Joquebede Mesquita of the Company of Friends, which provides practical and legal assistance to undocumented migrants in The Netherlands. “The telephone is ringing all the time. They want to go back to Brazil. They want to go back to their family, to their children.We helped more than 200 people go back to Brazil. Their work has stopped and they don’t have money to pay the rent or to pay for food. A lot of people were sleeping on the street and they were very afraid. People get the Corona virus and some of them are living with up to nine people in a small room. How can they survive? And a lot of people want to go home to their parents. They say, ‘If we are going to die, we want to die together’.” An undocumented migrant from Brazil signs up to receive asupermarket food voucherfrom the Company of Friends organisation in Amsterdam.The vouchers are provided by the The Netherlands Red Crossto help migrants who have fallen on hard times since the start of the Covid-19 pandemic. “Because these people are considered illegal, they cannot rent a house, they cannot work legally, they don’t have social security, they don’t have bank accounts,” says Mesquita. “The idea is that they come here for a couple of years, get some money and then return to Brazil, buy a house and have a good life. But most of the people end up staying five or ten years, they don’t learn the language because they work and don’t have time to integrate into the community.” In her kitchen at home, Claudia and a friend unpack somefood donated by the Netherlands Red Cross. “The Brazilian community here in Holland help each other a lot. And if you are a Brazilian woman with a child, they help you even more.” Claudia and her daughter Maria look at a Christmas display in a shop window in Amsterdam. “I don’t know how we will celebrate Christmas. It’s a difficult time. I have to find a new place to live.Normally in Brazil we celebrate with family and friends. But here? I just have Maria”, she says. “My dream is to make some money and then return to Brazil and buy a house for my family. But if the chance came to stay here legally, I would consider it. But at the moment, the future is today. I take each day as it comes.” Izzy, from Sierra Leone After a decade-long civil war engulfed west African nation of Sierra Leone during the 1990s,Izzy felt he had no choice but to leave the country. The conflict took a high personal toll. “I lost my father, my brother, my sister and then later my mother disappeared,” he says. “I still have some uncles there but it’s difficult to know exactly where they are. I’ve been away a long time”. Although his application for asylum in the Netherlands has dragged on for over eleven years, he is confident he will be granted residency soonand he now considers Holland his home. “I miss everything about Sierra Leone,” says Izzy. “The food. The weather. The people. Absolutely everything. But it would be very difficult for me to go back becausethe scars of the war are still there. I was born there. I grew up there and from time to time, you feel this nostalgic. You have to look at your health situation as well and if I went back I would feel overwhelmed to be in my country again. But at the same time, you have this fear of going back and bringing up all the memories again. It’s a difficult thing.” “When you live here as an undocumented migrant,one thing that keeps you alive is contact. When you meet friends, that gives you the energy to do things every day when you wake up. But because of Covid, that has stopped.” “Covid has affected me a lot. First, because I lost a few friends, people that I knew— both Dutch and foreigners – to the disease. But also, and I think more importantly, because of the situation where you have no contact with friends. Things are no longer the way they used to be. You don’t allow people to come and visit you any more. That’s one thing we lost.” Izzy and his friend Kieta from Guinea buy some ingredients for the meal he will prepare for at theWorld House, a place where undocumented migrants can get a warm meal. “There are a lot of Africans in Amsterdam and many of them come to the World House,” says Izzy. “It is a place for refugees and, for most of them, it is their last hope when they have to leave the asylum camps. They have to go somewhere and usually the only place they can go is the World House. We feed them. We help them to find shelter and get back into the asylum application procedures.” “By law I’m not allowed to work or go to university in Netherlands because I still don’t have a residency permit. But I do like to help out becauseI think I have to contribute to society as well. I sometimes cook food for people in the World House, a place where undocumented people can receive help, spend the night and get a plate of warm food.I also help out at the Red Cross sometimes, preparing food packages for undocumented people and people without income. I help at some churches as well, cooking and storytelling, teaching kickboxing, but because of Corona, most of the church activities have been suspended.” “I am doing a course in website design. It is funded by an organisation that helps refugees. I have always had the idea of creating my own website, and maybe doing it for other people as well. So when this opportunity came, I decided to grab it and try to make something of it.I really would like to do something that will contribute to society herebecause I’ve stayed here a long time and this country has supported me, so I think I have to give something back.” -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this,click here.

With her baby wrapped snugly around her back, Usenia Semaneli braves the Kunene River on foot, supported by nothing but a walking stick. “Crocodiles live in those waters,” she says, “but you stop fearing anything. When you are hungry, you just choose to cross.” “When I was young, we used to get good rain,” says Usenia, who takes a break from her journey to share her story. Exactly how many people have made the trek from Angola to Namibia in the last few years is unclear. People have crossed the border for years to visit relatives, buy or sell goods. But in 2020 and 2021 it’s estimated thatat least 3,000 people from Angola were living in various encampments and host communities around border towns in northern Namibia. They came from various parts of Angola and from different tribes, but they tell a similar story. No rain. Failed crops. Livestock gone. A long perilous journey to Namibia. The troubles began in 2020, as dryness persisted through what would normally be the rainy season, which typically runs from November to April.Many of those most affected are children, lactating mothers, and the elderly. “We ate just a little bit every day, but all the children started to get weak,” says Usenia. “When you spend so many days without food it’s like you are confused. You lose control of your mind and everything is just turning around in front of your eyes.” Deolinda We used to walk during the day and at sunset we went to sleep,” saysDeolinda, who made a ten-day trek to Namibia with her granddaughter Venonyaand some other children. “Food was a big challenge throughout the journey. We didn’t have any food but we had to keep on walking. It was tough for me because I was traveling alone with the children. The journey was difficult, but I received help from people who carried my children… Not knowing whether the baby would survive or even make it, I was hoping for the best but also preparing myself for the worst”, she says. “When we arrived, Venonya was severely malnourished, so we took her to Outapi Hospital,” says Deolinda. “At first, when I arrived at the hospital I was scared because I feared that the baby would die. It was difficult to even find a vein to put a drip in the child, so I was scared. After a while, my baby got better and I started to feel calmer. We returned to the camp only a week ago with Venonya recovered, she stayed in the hospital for a week and a half.” Mwandjukatji “It took us almost ten days traveling, walking,” says Mwandjukatji, who found her way to a camp for migrants close to the town of Omusati, near Namibia’s northwestern border with Angola. “On the way,some of my daughters lost their children. Sometimes when we woke up we tried giving the children some water but they wouldn’t open their mouths, they died on the way. We had to leave them behind.” They knew the journey would be perilous, but staying in the end was not an option. “For a time, we debated what to do, and for a long while, we refused to leave our land,” she says. “But the hunger was growing unbearable. Because of that hunger, we decided to go to Namibia. We thought maybe we will survive there.” Mwandjukatji found temporary respite in a shelter she made using sticks, cardboard and plastic. There, she got by on food provided by local agencies and relief groups such as theNamibian Red Cross. “We heard that there was a camp where they were giving food to people like us who came from Angola,” says Mwandjukatji. “We receive some food and that is an enormous relief for us, because if we weren’t here most of our children would die.” “This shelter is not as strong, not the same, as our home. For our homes, we used to use strong sticks and sand mixed with cow dung, plus we had a fire inside the house. This is not the same. We can’t have a fire inside, and when it rains, the water seeps in. But here we have food at least.” Konguari The migrants saythe kindness of strangers has been critical to their survival, be it local leaders who let them stay on their land, government authorities, the Namibian Red Cross, or local residents who offered various kinds of support. The man in a blue shirt above, named Konguari, ran a garden hose from houseto give out water every evening. “In Opuwo, it is not uncommon to see people, usually men, coming from Angola looking for work. When I saw many women and children arriving, I knew something wasn’t right. I noticed that, although they were hungry, they were growing desperate for water. Very often they went in the field walking for hours to get wood that they sold in the market. With the money they got from the firewood they immediately bought water. When I saw this, I said to myself, ‘no, this isn’t right. Could it be possible for me to assist these people?’” A steady source of support The Namibian Red Cross Society (NRCS)has also been a steady source of support, providing food, water, health and hygiene support. A significant proportion of the people they helped have been children: of the4,027 people assistedin the Etunda and Opuwo areas of Kunene region last year, more than half were between 1 and 16 year old. More than 400 were lactating or pregnant women. The NRCS is one of numerous Red Cross of Red Crescent National Societies working on the frontlines of climate-related displacement,according to a 2021 climate displacement report by the IFRC. Their work includes responding to crises and building resilience to future shocks by preparing for and reducing climate risks. Around the world, floods, storms, wildfires, landslides, extreme temperatures and drought have caused the displacement of 30.7 million people, according to the report. “Our government tries its best to help the immigrants from Angola, and different organisations also try to help,” says Rijamekee, a Namibian Red Cross volunteer who lives in Northern Namibia and provides displaced people and vulnerable local residents with food, water, and health and hygiene support. “Anyone, who is out there should try their best to help these people. And not only the Angolans but anyone who is in need”, he says. Mekondo Climate change does not affect everyone equally. Children, the elderly, people with physical disabilities and other vulnerable and marginalized people are hit the hardestbecause climate change compounds the challenges they already face. “For the most part I crawled until I reached Namibia,” says Mekondo, who made his way from Angola to Namibia on his hands and knees. “I wore double pants until they peeled and tore at the knees. For my hands I used a pair of sandals so that I could crawl on the pavement.” “Although I feel well here because I have food, I feel bad for my mother who is still in Angola. I left her under the care of another person, but they were also hungry and were looking for food. I don’t know what to do because I don’t have money and I can’t crawl back all the way through that difficult journey, so I don’t feel well thinking about my mother living there without any food.” Returning home? Recent rainfalls have allowed many of the migrants to return to Angola, while others remain in host communities in northern Namibia. But the risk is far from over. The recentrainfalls come late in what is normally the rainy season, and they weren’t nearly enough to sustain a season of crops. But people remain hopeful as many of these 21stcentury climate migrants have missed their homes and always wanted to return as soon as possible. “I miss home,” says Mwandjukatji. “But the problem is that if we went home we would always be worried about what we were going to eat that day. When the hunger started there we sold our hoes and all the tools that we used to cultivate in order to get food. So now we don’t have those things and if we return we don’t have tools to cultivate. How are we going to get those tools to start again?” -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this,click here.

While Thai culture is relatively open in terms of gender identity, transgender people in Thailand continue to face discrimination and exclusion in many aspects of life. Health care is no exception. “The topic of gender diversity isn’t widely discussed [in Thailand]”, says Piglet, a transgender woman who lives in Bangkok. “Sometimes I’m not able to talk to anyone about it because it makes me feel nervous”. Piglet (not her real name) is a client at the Thai Red Cross Anonymous Clinic, a health centre in the heart of Bangkok designed to help people get health services without fear of being identified or of feeling stigmatized because of her gender or sexual identity. Understanding the challenges The goal is to create an environment where transgender individuals can openly discuss hormone treatment, sexual orientation, and other related issues with healthcare providers who understand their needs and what they are going through. Because transgender people often confront discrimination or a lack of understanding of the unique health needs, they often experience physical, mental and emotional stress when seeking out care. This is especially true during public health emergencies such as the COVID-19 pandemic, according to recent health studies. In some circumstances, this anxiety may prevent people from getting care or lead them to avoid seeking care. The Thai Red Cross Society has long been dedicated to reaching out to marginalized communities, including transgender people and men who have sex with men, in their efforts to combat HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases. Services for optimal health The Anonymous Clinic offers a wide range of services, including counselling, testing for HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases, hormone monitoring, gender-affirming hormone therapy, neovagina examination, anal cancer screening, and Hepatitis A/B vaccination. “The main mission of the Thai Red Cross AIDS Research Centre (Anonymous Clinic) is to provide effective prevention measures, widely known as PreP (pre-exposure prophylaxis), and PEP (post-exposure prophylaxis)”, explains Chanin Suksom, a psychologist at the Anonymous Clinic. “The health services we provide represent an equal opportunity to everyone at a very low cost”. While the clinic was initially established in response to the HIV/AIDS epidemic, it now plays a critical role in providing gender-affirming services and improving the overall well-being of transgender individuals. “During the past year, we assisted approximately 360 transgender clients, from which over 200 of them accessed services for free”, says Suksom. By offering a comprehensive range of services and fostering a safe and inclusive environment, the Anonymous Clinic empowers transgender individuals to take control of their health and well-being. “People who have come to the clinic for the first time are usually reluctant to talk about their stories. So, we ask informal open-ended questions”, explains Naiyapak Chaipun, a counsellor at the Anonymous Clinic who is herself transgender. “We sometimes chat in a very casual way. We encourage them to take things step by step without forcing them”, she says. For people like Piglet, the Anonymous Clinic has become a safe haven, where people can learn how to better take care of themselves. “I brought my friends to the Anonymous Clinic because they feel shy, and it reminds me of my own experience when I felt frustrated and didn’t know where to go”, she describes. “I think the Anonymous Clinic is a great place for transgender people to access health services. A place where we can love ourselves and where we can learn how to keep ourselves healthy in the long run”. -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this,click here.

Incarceration can be a bleak and isolating experience. But a new project by the Mexican Red Cross is providing detainees a unique opportunity to make a positive impact and find new meaning even within the prison walls. “There aren’t many groups you can join here to help others” says Julian Gonzalez Moreno, one of the project’s participants who has spent 18 years in prison. “So, this is one of the few where you can really help someone.” Sometimes that even means saving someone’s life. Participants in the programme recently recounted an incident where they successfully resuscitated a person who was suffering a heart attack – just eight days after receiving an updated CPR course. The training is part of the Community Health and First Aid project that is being implemented various penitentiary centres across Mexico City by the Mexican Red Cross. By providing training and workshops on first aid, civil protection, and psychosocial support, the project equips prisoners with life-saving skills and empowers them to become first responders inside detention centres. The programme challenges preconceived notions and helps reshape public perceptions towards prisoners. “The programme has also been beneficial in addressing the social stigma they might face,” says Jesus Enrique, a Mexican Red Cross volunteer and participant in the SPAC project who lives in Mexico City. “For us, it is important to share relevant information, and for the rest of the community inside the prison to see that they are trusted when it comes to providing first aid or helping others.” Equipping inmates with life-saving skills Raquel Jaimes, with 14 years of incarceration, expresses her gratitude for the training she has received. “Today, I know how to place a bandage on a wound, and I can do CPR. The Mexican Red Cross has taught me how to provide first aid”, she says. “I can now teach this to my children and to my grandchildren.” The project not only imparts practical skills but also fosters a sense of confidence and self-reliance, project leaders say. Detainees learn to handle emergency situations such as heart attacks, injuries and accidents, ensuring that they are well-prepared to respond swiftly and effectively. For women’s prisons, the SPAC programme provides specific first-aid courses for new-born babies, given that mothers in prisons are allowed to live with their children when they are up to 3 years and 8 months old. Saving lives and fostering change The SPAC training extends beyond individual skill-building. It cultivates a collective sense of responsibility and compassion among inmates, inspiring a shift in mindset, according to inmate Julian Gonzalez Moreno. “When people realize that you care about them, without any self-interest, they start doing the same with others, and you create a domino effect,” he says. -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this,click here.

With his son Santiago always at his side, Juan arrived in Colombia in late October 2018 from Venezuela and immediately began looking for any kind of menial task to survive. After the searing heat of the Cucuta border town, the pair would walk miles of dizzyingly zigzagging roads, through the cold, rainy town of Pamplona, along sheer mountain passes and lush green valleys before luckily being given a ride across the freezing Paramo de Berlin – the most challenging section of the road to Bucaramanga. Juan tells us: “Back in Valencia, I was a bus driver but, in the end, what I was making just wasn’t enough. I didn’t own the bus and when it broke down, it sometimes took a week or more to get repaired as there is a scarcity of parts. During that time, I wouldn’t be paid, and those periods became progressively longer.” “We arrived in Colombia on October 31st, my birthday. Santiago had fever and we were not in a good way. I never thought I would ever walk so much.I picked up aluminium cans on the streets of Cucuta to sell for recycling for a few days to get some money, and I had to bring Santiago along with me as there was nowhere else to put him. With this money I managed to rent a room sharing with three other people.” “We were travelling in a group for safety, but it’s also difficult– people have different speeds and sometimes not everyone gets a ride which splits up the group. It’s hard to stay together. Luckily, we got a ride across the Paramo. I heard that people die up there from the cold. “One friend saw me carrying Santiago and offered to help me with my suitcase. But then I got a ride and he didn’t so now he has my bag with our clothes and the most valuable thing – my passport.” “At one point, a truck pulled up and the driver said only women and children, so I handed Santiago to a woman and we met up later. Later I became a bit nervous. You hear rumours about children getting kidnapped here, but in the end he was safe. He asks for his mother a lot, who he hasn’t seen in two months.” “Back in Venezuela I was working from early in the morning until late at night, so I didn’t see much of my son. Now, despite these adverse conditions, I’m still happy we can spend some time together. For Santiago it’s a big adventure, he even started to learn how to ask for rides on the road. He was my reason for leaving, and mymotivation to continue.”

Aisha sits in front of a drab green tent in a camp set up for migrants near the Costa Rican border with Nicaragua. It is the rainy season, just as it would be 9,200 kilometers away inAisha’s home in West Africa. Her journey has been full of tragedy, even before the moment two-years ago, when she decided out of sheer panic to flee her country. She’s passed through Brazil, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia, Panama and now here to this little outpost. Smugglers, drug traffickers, seemingly impassible jungles –the journey would be hard enough under normal circumstances. Add to that the coronavirus.Migrants like Aisha travel through some of the countries hardest hit by the pandemic – Colombia, Brazil, Panama and Mexico among others – in order to reach the US, which has the highest number of Covid-19 cases in the world. But thebiggest impact of Covid-19 on the lives of migrants has been their ability to move at all. They can no longer transit through government checkpoints. In critical passage areas, migrants are told to stay put until the crisis passes. In Panama, they generally congregate informally in small towns, while in Costa Rica, they often live in government provided temporary shelters where groups such as theRed Crossprovide services. Those who choose to avoid official checkpoints and shelters run the risk of even more abuse. In places like these, the Red Cross and other humanitarian organizations make an effort to keep people in the present. There are multiple activities: volleyball, football, calls to home, as well ascritical services such as food and hygiene kits, psychological support and health and hygiene promotion. In the absence of movement, memory takes over. Aisha thinks of home. It is the place where, until only a month or so before she fled, she had no plans beyond her work as a sociologist, her relationship with her husband in the military and raising her daughter. Now she is so afraid of what might happen to her if she returns to her country, she asks that her real name not be revealed. A summer of fear In the summer of 2018, Aisha’s husband told her that he was fed up with his military life. One day he was sent on a mission, but his unit deserted instead. “They knew that by refusing an order, they were running the risk of being killed,” Aisha says. The husband (Aisha asked that his name be withheld for his safety) calculated that he would be arrested at the airport if he tried to flee by air. And so, in September 2018, he reached out to the smugglers’ networks and left on a one-month journeyby boat to Colombia. Men came to visit Aisha with increasing frequency. She didn’t know the visitors who said they were her husband’s “friends,” enquiring as to his whereabouts. “I understood that they were military personnel in civilian clothes,” she says. “I feared for my life and my daughter’s life.” The plan was to go to Brazil with her 2-year-old daughter Leila and then move onwards to Colombia to meet her husband. “In my country, the Brazilian visa is the fastest you can get,” she said. “My request was easily granted. Since I am a sociologist, I told the authorities that I was going to Brazil to deepen my knowledge of Brazilian culture.” An American dream United Nations officials say that Europe’s crackdown on migrant crossing through its borders, along with reports of enslavement in Libya, left smugglers searching for other routes into the West’s most developed countries. Since 2015,smuggling networks outside of the Americasbegan to explore the long and extremely dangerous route through Latin America to the US and Canada. For many African migrants, that means they first have to cross an ocean. Samuel, 45, is a barber from Northern Nigeria who had a dream to cut hair in America. He was willing to pay any price, even tempt death in order to live his dream. In 2016, he made his way from Lake Chad to the Nigerian coast where he was smuggled aboard a ship bound for Colombia. When he boarded, the smuggler told him that he had a50 percent chance of survival. During the three-month journey he found himself alternatively seasick and starving. That was until the captain of the ship found Samuel in the hold and threatened to throw him into the ocean. It took a concerted intervention by several crewmembers to save his life. After he landed in Colombia, Samuel (he has asked that his full name not be used) had to confront smugglers, drug traffickers, seemingly impassible jungles – the journey was hard enough until he got to the U.S. border. There, he was apprehended and placed in detention for seven months before being deported back to Nigeria. But Samuel’s dream was not extinguished. By 2019, after saving up enough moneyto make the journey again, he was back in Latin America, attempting to make his way northward. Forced by circumstance to remain in Costa Rica, Samuel began again to re-dream his existence. He remembered a talk he had with a border official four years earlier in Costa Rica. “All migrants dream of the United States,” the immigration agent said. “Why can’t you stay in Costa Rica and live your American dream here?” Migration in pandemic Meanwhile, other groups of migrants,predominately from Haiti and Cuba also attempt to move upward through Latin America to the U.S.The journey is remarkably long. There are often children born during the crossing and so the infants generally take on the citizenship of their place of birth. Chilean, Ecuadorian, Panamanian and Costa Rican infants move along the famished road with their families. Red Cross officials in Central America go to great pains to teach migrants about Covid-19 – the importance of social distancing, hygiene and wearing masks among other things. “Imagine a migrant who does not have the opportunity to isolate, maintain social distance, earn income to buy food, or have resources to buy masks, disinfectant gel or have running water,” says Jono Anzalone, head of disaster and crisis response for the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies. “How can a migrant protect herself in the middle of this pandemic? “ Moreover, it is a real challenge to get people,whose entire future is predicated on movement from one country to anotherto accept the dangers of coronavirus. “They don’t believe that Covid-19 exists,” says Jose Felix Rodriguez, the migration regional coordinator for the IFRC. “They are frustrated because they can’t continue north.” Underlying drivers of migration still strong Many believe that Covid-related quarantines and border closures have dramatically slowed the flow of migrants. But they doubt that it has stopped it altogether.Migration flows have continued despite the pandemic. The underlying conditions that have driven people to migrate are still present. “The pandemic has not deterred them,” says Anzalone. The closure of borders has increased the vulnerabilities of migrants transiting through Central Americaas controls became more rigorous and many were forced to stay in shelters that were unprepared for large groups staying for long periods of time. Crowding in these shelters, combined with the lack of permanent access to clean water, masks or other protective equipment, as well as the lack of food or other resources, have put many people throughout the region in a very critical situation. Perhaps the most treacherous part of their journey, however, is through theDarien Gap– a jungled portion of land separating Colombia from Central America. Those seeking a way northward through Darien travel in groups of about 400 people. Aisha said that each person pays between 20 and 40 dollars for the journey. In the forest, if you can’t walk, you are left behind. In a short period of time, the large group separates into smaller ones of about 100 people – the fastest to the stragglers. “We’ve seen people abandon their families there,” says Aisha. “In the forest, you don’t wait and there are no friends. Everyone is trying to save their lives.” The perils of the Darien Gap Inside the Darien, Aisha and her family met a couple from Guinea. The woman was 6-months pregnant. The pair had been left behind by their group. She had vomited blood and lost her child. When Aisha found her, the couple had already spent some six or seven days in the forest alone. “We tried to give them biscuits to eat. But the woman had her feet and face swollen, she couldn’t eat,” Aisha says. The couple made it through the jungle but just barely. On the fourth day, Aisha saw – with her own eyes – vultures descending into a river. In the water, there was a corpse of a man with black-and-white shoes. “The vultures began to tear the body into pieces.” To be sure,while the journeys are perilous they are also journeys of hope. If they could cross the myriad borders of South and Central America and make it to the US, Aisha and her family could settle with her uncle who lives in Colorado. “My goal was to get to my uncle’s house in the US and start a new life so that I could continue studying my career as a sociologist,” she says. “What gives me hope is the life I have right now,” she says. “I have survived in Peru, Ecuador, and the deadly forest so far. If I have survived all this, I know I can make my dream come true by the grace of God.” -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this,click here.

For decades, the border town of Cucuta was a departure point for people escaping Colombia’s instability towards a new life in their eastern neighbour. Now the situation has reversed and each month over 50,000 migrants cross the border from Venezuela to Colombia, many carrying their last possessions on their back. With no money even for a bus ticket most are forced to embark on a perilous high-altitude trek on foot for days through twisting mountain passes, sleeping under the stars in bitterly cold temperatures before reaching the city of Bucamaranga. Here are their stories. Safety in numbers Eighteen year-old Yusmil arrived in Colombia with her brother, and the two joined a larger group on the road for security. As a young female, Yusmil is usually chosen to seek a ride in a car or truck and take the group’s luggage further up the route while the rest of them walk, though without a phone between them, communication is difficult. Yusmil sheepishly explains that she has already spent the last of her money, the $10 she got from selling most of her hair to a barber in Cucuta. With the little she has left, she has made into a braid. “I sold my phone back in Venezuela just before I left, which gave me money for a day or two and when I arrived in Colombia, I sold my hair. The hair cutters gave me 30,000 Pesos ($9) and I have spent it already on rent and food.” she continues: “We don’t know where we’ll sleep tonight, we’ll keep on walking until we can’t walk any more.” “I met Jose and the others at the Divina Providencia shelter in Cucuta and thought it would be a good idea to stick together when travelling. I’m a bit worried because I heard some gangs assault migrants on the road, and I’m not looking forward to the cold weather of the mountains. We don’t have the right type of clothes. We left Cucuta in a group of about twenty-five and tried to help each other out as people fell behind. In the evening, we found a kiosk where a woman gave us some cookies and water to keep us going. We walked for an hour more until we found an improvised shelter and the next morning we got up and just started walking again.” Weaving their way in a new land By the toll booth on the main highway stretching out of Cucuta, the sunlight glints off the yellow and green handbags dangling from the neck and arms of Jesus and Gabriela Campos. But these are no ordinary handbags. Rather than being made of leather, the raw material for these colourful and sturdy apparel is the currency from their native Venezuela. Due to hyperinflation and government devaluations, the small amount of money that Jesus and Gabriela brought to Colombia could not buy anything, so they decided to convert it into a tradeable product. The bags are composed of folded, interlinking rectangles (with denominations ranging from 1,000 to 100,000), all intricately woven by the artisan couple from the coastal city of Valencia. “We take the old bills and turn them into bags, wallets, chequebook holders and purses,” Gabriela explains over the rumble of passing cars and trucks. The Campos’ sell in different areas of town but the toll stop, with the nearby hot dog grill and roaming coffee vendors, attracts a ready supply of cars. “Eight hundred bills make up one bag, which can almost buy you a sweet back home. Two years ago, you could do something with this money but now it’s not possible.” Gabriela has a sick father in the Cucuta hospital, which sometimes takes her away from her day job, but she says that her young children are also learning the family trade from their small home in Villa del Rosario. At the moment it takes a whole day for them to make one bag. A car slows down as a potential customer peers out of his window. Gabriela walks over holding the bags aloft so Jesus continues with his part of the story. “When I arrived here, I was sellingarroz con leche(a traditional rice pudding) that would pay our rent of 20,000COP ($6) per day. Venezuelans wanted to pay me with our currency, one time someone even they gave me 90,000 Bolivares in denominations of 1,000, so I had a lot. I thought that these were going to be worthless shortly, so I might as well try to do something productive with them.” “Back home I used to make ornaments with cigarette packs and paper from magazines and I thought if I can do it with those things, I can do it with the bills,” Jesus adds. “My first customers were some guys doing a charity bike ride, who bought two bags and ordered some more. We can tailor make [these products] depending on what size and style you want. Yesterday I woke up at six in the morning to come to sell the bags at the toll and didn’t finish until late at night.” A medical migration For five-year-old Samuel Garcia, growing up in Le Tigre, eastern Venezuela wasn’t easy, particularly because he suffers from West Syndrome, a severe form of epilepsy. At first, Samuel’s mother Emily took him each month to the Colombian Red Cross’ health centre in Cucuta for medicine and later for appointments with a paediatrician. Now, Emily is on the road to Medellin where a foundation is offering specialized support. “When Samuel was one year old, he had a lack of oxygen supply to the brain, creating a lesion which led to this condition.” Emily says: “He can’t control his sphincter, and specialist diapers are not available in the country, so Samuel wasn’t accepted into school due to the complexity of his condition.” Scampering around the shelter wearing a Spiderman t-shirt on a warm November afternoon, Samuel seems oblivious that he is in the middle of a lifechanging journey. But Emily explains that their decision to leave became urgent. “As well as autism and problems with movement, he has convulsions and goes into shock. If the convulsions are not treated, they can leave him a vegetative state.” Women sit in a circle in the courtyard as a nurse is splayed on the ground to demonstrate first aid techniques. Suddenly a man is carried through the front door in the middle of a violent seizure and the staff flock to his side. Despite an impressive crowdfunding campaign by Emily (Samuel has an Instagram account) to raise money to import medication from Spain and the United States, this ultimately wasn’t sustainable so the two fled. Emily says she’s been advised that she claim asylum in Colombia on medical grounds. “We have passports but not residency in Colombia, so I want to regularise our status so Samuel can get into special school and get access to specialised healthcare. I was a chef back in Venezuela, but I can’t work legally while applying for asylum.” The doctor across the border Near the Colombian Red Cross health station in Cucuta, a constant flow of people passes over the Simon Bolivar bridge from Venezuela into Colombia. But not everybody plans to stay in Colombia. Bianca Rodrigues’ son Alejandro is the last patient of the day to be checked by exhausted doctors and, after that, the family will make the hours-long journey back to their hometown of San Cristobal, Venezuela. Every week, Bianca takes her children over the border to receive healthcare and medicine that is unavailable back home. “My son Alejandro is just ten months old and today he has a fever. He suffersconstantly from allergies that block his bronchi and that leads to respiratory infections. When he was two and half months old, I first brought him to Cucuta and he was hospitalised for 15 days. I live in San Cristobal, just over the border in Venezuela but there are no paediatricians in my town, so I need to travel to Colombia every week. It’s a hopeless situation – there are no antibiotics, and a shortage of doctors to the point that they only attend emergencies. It’s only 40km away but the transport is very unreliable, and it takes a long time to cross the Colombian border as the police check everybody’s suitcases. It’s my dream to move here but I don’t have any place to stay and day care is expensive. I also have two other children aged 5 and 3. At least in San Cristobal I have my mother who can sometimes take care of Alejandro and the kids while I work. I sometimes come to Cucuta to work as a street vendor selling cookies and that allowed me to save up a bit of money. But since Alejandro got sick that has become more difficult.” “I never thought I would be in this kind of situation” Behind Bogota’s main bus terminal, an informal tented settlement in the woods has spilled over into the nearby roads. Here, Brihan and his family have made their temporary home. Hundreds of migrants have constructed improvised shelters from scavenged materials and line them precariously alongside the roadside. The encampments are divided by train tracks so, occassionaly, a one-carriage locomotive chugs through interrupting people gathered around around small campfires. “I’ve been here for five days with my family, but I don’t know if I want to stay in Bogota. I’m not sure what to do next. I heard Ecuador might be good but if I find work here, I’ll stay. Back home I worked as gardener and cleaned swimming pools. I have three kids aged 8, 3 and eight months and we are giving them a few days to recover after the journey. It took us five days from the border. We only saw one shelter on the way but sometimes Colombians in their cars gave us a ride and handed out food. My son has a fever. When we arrived in Bogota, we went to the hospital and they gave him an injection to boost his defences but in general, they only give emergency treatment for free, and the follow ups cost money. I came here with 2000 pesos (75c) so I can’t afford that. I never thought I would be in this kind of situation and my children would have to see this, but there’s no other alternative. I heard that Ecuador offers free day-care, so we can leave the kids somewhere while we work, and maybe there is a better chance of access to healthcare. I built this shelter last night with the materials our neighbours gave to us. Before that we slept next to the wall with a bit of tarpaulin. This is not a good environment for kids, there are rats here, people here fight all the time and some use drugs. I hope I can get better connected somehow and get a construction job and get them out of here.” Coming home Luimer and Itza spent months pounding the streets for work and accommodation to set themselves up in Bucamaranga before they went back home to bring their two sons. Luimer is now teaching music at a church and Itza a domestic worker for a Colombian lady. After participating in the census, they have their residency papers, are in the process of enrolling their sons in school and hoping to gain nationality through Itza’s Colombian mother. Her experience reflects the overlapping patterns of migration in the region – Itza’s grandmother went to Venezuela decades ago to flee instability, and now her granddaughter is making the return journey. LUIMER: "We are from San Cristobal, Venezuela, near the Colombian border. In my previous life I was a music teacher with 160 students. But then the economy took a downturn. There wasn’t as much work as I was promised so when we arrived, we had to hit the streets, selling chocolates, washing cars, doing construction etc. I have done lots of things I never thought I would do. I could barely use a hammer before. Now I have a job at the Free Life Church teaching keyboards, drums and guitar. In the beginning we were living in a room only about a metre wide. Now I feel that this is our family home, we decorated and set ourselves up, and we have a dog." Every week the local Red Cross organises a social gathering for migrants. A lot of Venezuelans go into their own survival mode when they arrive and don’t always interact with each other so it’s nice to meet up to share stories and make friends. ITSA:"I used to work at a café, on the minimum wage. Then, two years ago, this became not enough to survive. A lot of people have left. My father is in Peru. My brother-in-law and sister are in Chile; friends in Ecuador, cousin in Panama…but my mother and sister are back in San Cristobal [Venezuela] and we left the kids with them while we set ourselves up here, which required a lot of strong will. We like it here because it’s close enough for us to visit our family once in a while. My father has said that he can arrange some work in Peru, but I don’t know if I want to go through the process of moving again." -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this,click here.

Bending over her traditional clay cookstove, 38-year-old Lucky Mazangesure stirs the simmering ingredients in a small saucepan: fried-green bananas in stew of tomatoes and onions. As the fire crackles, the scent of woodsmoke mixes with the savory-sweet aroma of the saucy, steaming treat. “Trust me,” she says, “after eating this banana dish you won’t be able to stop.” She can’t resist a quick taste – just to make sure it’s coming out the way it should. “I really love cooking,” she says. “I like tasting the food while cooking. It makes me happy and it keeps my stomach full.” Then she checks on some simmering beans and starts preparing another local delicacy: pumpkin porridge with roasted peanuts, which will be complimented by cooked spinach and broccoli. This diverse meal does a lot more than keep her full, she adds. It gives her body the vitamins, minerals, proteins and carbohyrdates she needs to keep herself and her infant, nursing child healthy. Like many new mothers here in Chibuwe, in southeastern Zimbabwe, Lucky is able to prepare these well-balanced meals thanks to a garden at the Chibuwe Health Clinic, which is tended largely by pregnant woman and new mothers who visit the clinic for pre-natal and post-partum care. The garden got started several years ago as part of a larger initiative by the British Red Cross and the Zimbabwe Red Cross to set up gardens for expecting and new mothers at hospitals and local health clinics, where health workers were witnessing worsening nutrition levels among women and young children. In a region hard hit by drought, windstorms, cyclones and flash floods, many legumes, fruits and root crops that are rich in vitamins, proteins and minerals are hard to get. Infant malnutrition here has been on the rise in recent years, with some estimates suggesting that roughly one-third of children under 5 are malnourished. Covid-19 has only aggravated the situation by disrupting regional and local food distribution systems. “It’s hard for expecting mothers in this community to get a decent meal,” says Robert Magweva, a nurse at the Chibuwe Health Clinic, adding that too often, people must rely only on sadza [sorghum], a carbohydrate, and a limited range of leafy vegetables. “It’s a major challenge to have a well-balanced diet here. So the vegetables that are grown in the clinic garden help them to get a well-balanced meal.” As a mark of the programme’s success, most of these gardens are now sustained entirely by the clinics, hospitals and the communities around them, with support of local agriculture experts and local Zimbabwe Red Cross volunteers. Better farming for a changing climate Still, growing one’s own food in this environment is not easy. The climate has generally gotten hotter and drier, with dry spells punctuated by intense storms and winds, and unpredictable rains. Scorching heat evaporates water quickly and can easily whither young seedlings. “At this clinic garden, we were taught smart agriculture techniques as a way of combating the effects that climate change was having on our harvest,” says Beauty Manyazda, another new mother who works regularly at the Chibuwe Clinic garden. “We learnt techniques such as conservation farming and mulching.” Conservation farming is an approach that aims to improve soil moisture and health by minimising the intensive tilling and plowing associated with large-scale crop production. Mulching is one very common conservation technique in which straw, leaves or other organic matter is laid down on the soil between the crops. This keeps moisture from evaporating, while discouraging weeds and providing nutrients to the soil as the mulch decays. Such techniques are increasingly critical as climate change makes farming more difficult. “Our rainfall patterns have changed over the years,” explains Lucky. “We used to get rain in October, when we would sow the seeds for our crops. Now, we get rains in January. So the seeds we put in the ground get damaged waiting for the rainfall.” Meanwhile, storms, droughts and heatwaves have become more and more intense, says Lucky. “Temperatures have continued to rise and this has resulted in regular, violent winds,” she notes. “These winds have destroyed our homes. We also get floods which also contribute to the destruction.” Amid these challenges, the garden provides also provides other nourishing ingredients: the joy and satisfaction of being able to work and provide sustenance while also being among plants, close the soil with other women at her side. “I love gardening,” says Lucky, her baby tied to her back, fast asleep as she picks a handful of chard. “The green nature of the garden warms my heart. With the garden, I know my family will always have a home-grown, nutritious meal.” -- This story was produced and originally published by the Red Cross Red Crescent Magazine. To learn about the Magazine, and to read more stories like this, click here.