upworthy

refugee

World Vision
True
World Vision

Songs have a habit of getting stuck in your head — especially ones you like. They can be powerful ways to spread — and remember — important information. (Remember when you learned your ABC's through song in Kindergarten?)

That's why at Bidi Bidi refugee settlement in Uganda, some young people are using their creativity to raise awareness about the coronavirus by writing songs about it.

"For months now, awareness campaigns have been created," says David, a teenager who lives in the settlement. "These include posters, radio messages and public messages." World Vision Uganda, for example, has been going door to door to drive awareness in settlements, using mobile public address systems and megaphones.


But young people like David in the settlement are taking things one step further: they're recording the songs and sharing the music at food distribution points so everyone hears their messages. For them, music is not only a creative outlet: it is also a powerful way to engage with and protect their vulnerable community from this deadly disease.

"Children and young people are amazing. We see time and again, all over the world, they are not helpless, hidden victims. So often in a crisis, they are hidden heroes," says Dana Buzducea, World Vision's Global Head of Advocacy.

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), over 7.9 million people around the world have caught COVID-19, the disease caused by the novel coronavirus. As of June 16th, the disease had killed 434,796 worldwide. 181,903 of these cases were in Africa; 823 of those were in Uganda where the Bidi Bidi refugee settlement is located.

People and children living in refugee settlements, like this one, might be particularly at risk for COVID-19.

There are 1.4 million refugees in Uganda with the majority having fled a civil war in South Sudan. 270,000 of those refugees live in Bidi Bidi Refugee camp; more than half are children. Many became separated from their parents when they fled the conflict and have had to learn to take care of themselves. Others might have a grandparent with them — but since COVID-19 is particularly deadly to elderly adults, they're also now at risk of being alone if the virus takes hold in the camp.

World Vision

This is why in March, World Vision asked that countries hosting high numbers of refugees, such as Uganda, be given special and urgent support because of the potential impact of the disease, both directly and indirectly.

"The disease might not kill as many children from the available statistics but the impact on them is great," Brenda Madrara, project manager at World Vision, said in a recent article. "In our foster programme, we train and facilitate foster parents to take care of these vulnerable children. This is now difficult because everyone is scared and they only want to take care of their own, without any extra responsibility."

In other words, because of the lockdown, money, food and other resources are already stretched thin. Bringing in a child to care for — especially one that might be infected — is scary.

This is the reason it's so important to prevent the rapid spread of the virus in these settlements. World Vision is currently working with The Office of the Prime Minister to respond to the urgent needs to help stop the spread of the virus, such as soap, hand washing facilities and personal protective equipment for health workers.

Information campaigns can still go a long way: the more people know about the virus, the better they can protect themselves. That is why the music that these young people are creating is so important at getting the message out there. It's also why World Vision has partnered with Hashtag Our Stories to help the kids in the settlement share their stories using smartphones — after all, that's how David was able to tell the world about these songs.


To learn more about World Vision, how they are supporting children impacted by the virus, or help in their efforts, visit their Hidden Hero page.

In 2015, nearly 60,000 refugees arrived in the Netherlands needing a place to live.

The Netherlands is a small country, just more than half the size of West Virginia, so housing all of them was going to be a challenge. As the worldwide refugee crisis continues, innovative solutions are needed so that the people fleeing civil war and sectarian violence have a safe place to live.

Refugees arriving in the Netherlands in January 2016. Photo by Arie Kievit/AFP/Getty Images.


In this case, the solution involved, in part, opening up an old abandoned prison as temporary public housing. It was a less-than-ideal situation to say the least.

The country was determined to do better.

In January 2016, the Netherlands launched a design competition called "A Home Away From Home" in which entrants were tasked with designing temporary housing for refugees and disaster victims.

All of the winning designs rethought the idea of public housing, adding amenities and innovations to make the buildings more like fully functioning homes than simply a bed to sleep on.

The winners of the contest recently appeared on display in Amsterdam as part of Dutch Design Week and included things like solar power, water purification systems, and ingenious use of space and material.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

This Farmyard shelter is designed to transform vacant farmland into mini villages.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

The cube design of the Farmland means dozens can be stacked, placed together, and moved easily. The architects of this design imagined the miniature villages establishing a "DIY economy" with local towns.

Interior of the design. Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

Another designer created these styrofoam towers as perfect low-waste housing for refugees being processed at reception sites.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

They're insulated, waterproof, fire resistant, and very cost-efficient. They have all the amenities of an apartment — beds, a sink, a toilet, a shower, and a kitchen table — and can easily be rigged up with electricity.

Comfort City is one designer's solution for cities that don't have enough space to house a large number of refugees.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

Every part of the Comfort City design is modular and adaptable, meaning it can be easily constructed in empty industrial buildings — or even abandoned prisons — while providing the homey comfort that abandoned prisons tend to lack.

Then there were designs like this modern Solar Cabin that can actually generate revenue and electricity.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

Its solar paneled roof actually generates more energy than is needed to power the home, so the occupants can sell electricity back to the local grid to make a profit.

Interior of the Solar Cabin design. Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

And finally, this sleek cube design actually comes with a built-in water purifier.

Photo courtesy of A Home Away From Home.

The cubes are Finch Evolutionary Wooden Buildings and are portable, easy to construct, and run on solar-powered batteries. They also have a vacuum toilet system that recycles water on site, making the whole thing self-sufficient.

We're going to need more and more of this type of housing and way of thinking about the refugee crisis.

Home is a concept many of us take for granted, but it's not a small thing. It makes us feel safe, comfortable, and human.

The current refugee crisis hasn't showed signs of slowing down, and with climate change creating more and more dangerous weather systems, we're likely to see climate refugee numbers grow sharply. All of those people are going to need places to live. Innovative solutions like these help them to not only live, but live with dignity and opportunity.

The epic, dramatic three-part saga known as the presidential debates is finally over.

Coincidentally, our supply of good whiskey is also done. Photo by Mark Ralston/AFP/Getty Images.

They were some of the craziest debates we’ve ever seen, but one glaring, ozone-sized hole stood out: climate change. None of the moderators asked about it.

Here's the thing: Climate change factors into nearly every topic the candidates spoke about. Climate change is about our planet, about conflict, about health, about science, about jobs, about international relations — so it's wild that we didn't hear about it at all. As science-loving dudes, we're frustrated.


In honor of the debates ending, here are some examples of why talking about how our planet is changing really, really matters. This is the stuff that should have been discussed:

Take national security and the refugee crisis, for instance.

Refugees in Germany. Photo by Sean Gallup/Getty Images.

Our politicians may still be making up their minds about the validity of the warming of our Earth (real talk: Scientific consensus around this is real. It's not a political issue.), but our armed services divisions are already calling climate change a "threat multiplier" and "accelerant of instability." They're integrating it into all their plans.

What does an "accelerant of instability" mean? Take the Syrian refugee crisis: The conflict in Syria is a massive, messy tragedy, but climate change played a role in at least part of it, according to Columbia University professor Marc Levy. Severe drought and ruined crops — both potential effects of climate change — exacerbated Syria's already unstable system prior to the crisis.

The rest of the world is not immune, either. There are already climate refugees in places like Kiribati, Vanuatu, and, yes, even the United States.

OK, that was one thing, but there was another big topic on everybody's mind: jobs and the economy. Well, guess what...

Floodwaters flow into the Carey Tunnel in New York during Hurricane Sandy. Photo by Andrew Burton/Getty Images.

Climate change costs a lot. Superstorm Sandy cost New Yorkers $50 billion. This year alone, at least 12 over-a-billion-dollars-lost weather and climate disasters have hit the U.S. And, yes, climate change is likely contributing to these kinds of storms, wildfires, and droughts.

Other costs include funding the Federal Emergency Management Agency and building climate-proof infrastructure like seawalls and flood control — all of which takes considerable dough. By 2100, the U.S. could be paying nearly $2 trillion every year because of climate change.

It's not all bad news, though: Renewable energy could also create a ton of new jobs. While the shrinking opportunities in unclean energy are rightly on some people's minds (lookin' at you, Ken Bone), new initiatives could help workers make the transition to renewable jobs.

Climate change could even affect our health care.

Photo by Valery Hache/AFP/Getty Images.

It’s a good thing that Obamacare got rid of that stuff about pre-existing conditions, because climate change is now a pre-existing condition that makes health issues worse for certain people.

Warmer temperatures may mean more mosquitoes and ticks and more habitable places for the little blood-suckers. That might also mean more insect-borne diseases like malaria and Zika. Heat stroke could go up too, as well as air pollution.

So why do we need to talk about climate change? Because it affects our health. It could even make our allergies worse (noooooo).

Let's get real: There’s a reason the entire United Nations met in Paris last year to talk about our changing planet.

Photo by Timothy A. Clary/AFP/Getty Images.

195 nations came together at the 21st Conference of the Parties, and the fact that they all actually agreed on something was historic. That puts climate change directly at the center of international diplomacy.

Regardless of who is sworn into office on Jan. 20, climate change will be a huge part of the job for the next four years.

If we can’t even talk about our planet, maybe the current debates aren’t the best way to help us live more informed lives.

We deserved a chance to hear the candidates talk about climate change, to at least hear whether Donald Trump still thinks climate change is a Chinese hoax (except when he doesn't). And we deserved to hear about what Hillary Clinton plans to do to help us adapt as our planet changes.

We can’t be discussing our kids' futures without also discussing what kind of future we’re giving them. That's why the climate change conversation matters.

From the outset, it looked like any other morning in the French port town of Calais.

But as Monday, Feb. 29, began, French police and military began dismantling the southern end of the Calais Jungle, a refugee camp with between 3,400 and 5,600 residents.


The sun rises over the camp. Photo by Carl Court/Getty Images.

By the end of the day, 100 homes in the southern arm of the "jungle" would be reduced to ash and garbage; leaving refugee residents homeless again.

Police officers clear shelters and personal items. Photo by Carl Court/Getty Images.

The Calais Jungle is the most well-known temporary settlement of the current refugee crisis.

Refugees from Eritrea, Afghanistan, Syria, North Africa, and the Middle East have been converging on Calais for the past year. They are young families, single mothers, young men, and unaccompanied children looking for refuge from violence, war, and poverty in their home countries.

A man rides his bike along a heavily damaged street on the outskirts of Damascus, Syria. Photo by Abdulmonam Eassa/AFP/Getty Images.

For these refugees, this small industrial port city in northern France is meant to be the second-to-last stop on their journey to a new life in the United Kingdom.

A tent belonging to a Sudanese refugee. Photo by Carl Court/Getty Images.

To reach the U.K., they’ll risk stowing away on ferries or climbing aboard trains passing through the "chunnel," an underground tunnel connecting Calais and Dover, U.K. At one point last July, upward of 2,000 refugees were trying to make this trip every single night. With both the French and British closing down their borders, it’s become harder and harder for people to leave Calais.

A man walks by the new purpose-built accommodations near the camp. Photo by Carl Court/Getty Images.

Instead of being a stop on the journey, Calais has become a destination.

More than 3,400 people have settled in the Calais Jungle in the past year, living out of tents or other makeshift shelters.

An aerial photo of the camp in October 2015. Photo by Denis Charlet/AFP/Getty Images.

Even without running water, heat, or sanitation services, the residents of the Jungle have created a community. There are stores, vendors, a mosque, services, a school — even a theater.

Individuals and families collect firewood. Photo by Philippe Huguen/AFP/Getty Images.

Little by little, the residents of the Jungle are finding ways to return to normal lives. Sometimes that’s as simple as a game of handball.

A group plays handball in the camp. Photo by Jeff J. Mitchell/Getty Images.

While opponents of the Calais Jungle like to cite the figure that young men make up its largest demographic, there are many young families and children living there, too.

The British volunteer group Help Refugees says there are 205 women and 651 children living in the Jungle. Of those children, 423 are unaccompanied.

Children walk with a stroller in a camp in 2015. Photo by Philippe Huguen/AFP/Getty Images.

However, the growing Calais Jungle is extremely unpopular with nearby residents and the government.

In an attempt to squelch local resistance and reduce the size of the settlement, the French government has created temporary shelters to house up to 1,500 residentsof the Jungle and has proposed bussing the remaining refugees to other reception centers in the country.

A hut camp set up by Doctors Without Borders near Dunkerque shelters around 2,000 migrants and refugees. Photo by Philippe Huguen/AFP/Getty Images.

Residents of the Jungle and the aid workers supporting them disagree with this idea.

According to Marta Welander, founder of the Refugee Rights Data Project "[these evictions are] unlikely to provide a viable solution to the current humanitarian crisis on our doorstep."

A group of refugees carry a banner through the Jungle as its cleared. Photo by Carl Court/Getty Images.

Many refugees would rather wait in Calais to see if they can receive asylum in the United Kingdom, where jobs and housing are rumored to be plentiful and accessible. Others have family in the U.K. they could stay with or know how to speak English but not French. Accepting the housing means registering with the French government — something that may affect their ability to seek asylum elsewhere.

So they stay, they wait, and they hope.

A boy stands next to a sign made out of wire. Photo by Jeff J. Mitchell/Getty Images.

But time, it seems, has run out.

Last Thursday, a French judge upheld a previous judgment allowing police and the military to dismantle the southern portion of the camp, displacing around 1,000 residents who will be required to register with the French government and move into new shelters. Buildings of "cultural and social importance" like the school and theater will be allowed to stay. The people cannot.

Residents wait in line for clothes and aid. Photo by Denis Charlet/AFP/Getty Images.

Activists supporting the camp were told residents would have days to clear the site. Instead, they were given just one hour.

Agents dismantle shelters. Photo by Philippe Huguen/AFP/Getty Images.

As hundreds of soldiers and riot police moved in, some residents challenged them, throwing rocks and bottles. The military responded by firing tear gas.

A police officer throws teargas to clear the area. Photo by Carl Court/Getty Images.

Some defiant residents burned down their tents rather than allow them to be dismantled.

A person watches a hut burn as officers clear the area. Photo by Carl Court/Getty Images.

A small number faced off with the police and were arrested or detained.

An activist is sprayed with a water cannon. Photo by Carl Court/Getty Images.

Officers cleared approximately 100 homes from the seven acre site and plan to return March 1 to continue their work.

Fabienne Buccio, the head of the Calais prefecture, said previously that these cleanup efforts were intended to reduce the size of the camp by half.

Police officers clash with activists and residents during the clearing of the camp. Photo by Carl Court/Getty Images.

While refugees and activists have legitimate reasons to disagree with the government's approach, the homes and dwellings in the Jungle are far from sanitary. There’s no running water, and garbage (plus the rats that come with it) is everywhere. People easily get sick, and health care access is extremely limited. The new settlements the French government has built are heated, clean, and safe — a step up from what residents live in now.

A woman sits next to her tent. Photo by Philippe Huguen/AFP/Getty Images.

For those of us with warm beds and running water, it's hard to see why people would want to stay in the Calais Jungle.

But for the residents who live there, the Jungle and the communities they've built within it are all they have. There’s no guarantee that people moving into the new housing will be able to live alongside the friends they’ve created in Calais. For some of them, that means starting over — all over again. And some people aren't willing to do that unless the move is one that lets them start rebuilding their lives in a more permanent space.

A man stands with a banner in the Jungle in 2009. Photo by Philippe Huguen/AFP/Getty Images.

The U.K.-based Refugee Rights Data Projectsurveyed residents of the Calais Jungle in advance of the court decision, asking them where they would go if asked to leave. Of the 460 residents they surveyed, 80% said they planned to stay in Calais or a nearby camp in Dunkirk.

Two men carry their belongings away from the camp. Photo by Carl Court/Getty Images.

"Lieu de vie" is painted on many of the temporary hones in the Calais Jungle. It translates to "place of life."

While it’s essential for refugees to have access to safe, long-term housing and services, it is also important to note the community they have built in Calais.

Residents sit outside a makeshift shelter. Photo by Philippe Huguen/AFP/Getty Images.

For people fleeing destruction and poverty, there was life in Calais. It was imperfect, dangerous, and ultimately impermanent, but for some it was the closest to a home they'd had since leaving theirs. Now with its dismantling, they're once again being violently uprooted and facing a future that’s as uncertain as the past they escaped.

A woman pins a French flag onto her makeshift tent in November 2015. Photo by Philippe Huguen/AFP/Getty Images.