A few days into our medical mission in northwest Syria, three weeks after the devastating Turkey-Syria earthquakes hit in February, we met a young boy named Hussein. No older than 4 years old, he was completely distraught, repeating over and over, “I want my father, I want my father,” all while his father stood right next to him, reassuring him. It was as if Hussein was in a trance — he couldn’t hear our questions or his father.
A few weeks earlier, he was with his mother and siblings visiting a family member when the February earthquakes hit. His entire family except for his father was killed. Local psychosocial staff asked us to help snap him out of the trance. They had tried reenactment with puppets and they tried to do art with him, but none of this worked. He was not present. We will never forget the fear in his eyes.
Twelve years of brutal war has already placed a tremendous strain on the country’s health care system and taken a psychological toll on millions of Syrians caught in the crossfires of political violence. Since the start of the war, more than 50% of primary health facilities have been destroyed, up to 70% of health care providers have fled the country seeking safety, and the life expectancy of resident Syrians has declined by 20 years in the last decade.