Im from turkey silly

Day 6, Syrian elite school, Istanbul, update part 3.

I'm not sure of her name and I don't like to use the children's names, so lets call her Alice. ( We have permission to use photos)

I met Alice on our first day at the school, she was in the play ground and randomly said goodbye to me. I stopped and chatted with her briefly in English asking how she was and what her name was. She sweetly told me she was fine, and told me her name which I instantly forgot.

She giggled a lot.

Come Monday she was in our class and was very excited to paint. When it came to painting happiness she really embraced the subject. She painted flowers, grass, the sun, trees and on another page apples.

I asked her why she painted apples and she simply laughed and said because I love apples.

I asked her if her picture was from Syria or turkey. She looked confused. We were chatting in Turkish, her Turkish was good. I congratulated her on learning Turkish so well and asked her how long she had lived in turkey. She laughed out loud and told me she was Turkish then went on to call me silly.

I got told off by an 8 year old.

day 6, teaching 100 kids

Day 6. Syrian Elite School, Istanbul. Part 1.

( I have skipped the weekend for now, I will get back to that, it makes better sense in my head this way !)

Wow what a day ! Myself, Suleman and Kine taught art to 100 children ! yes 100 ! in one day ! It was crazy, but good crazy.

We had some troubled souls that day, too.

Kine and Sul hadn't yet been to the school, so Besher, Rosa's brother came with us to translate. Mr khalad told them all about the school and how he had set up. Just a re cap if you haven't read my previous posts.

Mr khalad is an incredible man, he put all his life savings into this school, which was never even meant to be a school. He started off by setting up a refuge for Syrian refugees fleeing the war, soon enough the children wanted to learn, they had 10 children in the first class. Everyone started hearing about this wonderful man, putting families up, feeding them, looking after them, and most importantly, giving these innocent children an education. 3 years on, mr khaled now has almost 400 students and has a few families living at the school, he even cares for some orphans, more on that later.

We set up our first class of 40 children. We gave them all masks, pots of paint, glue, glitter, sequins and pom poms.

We had one little girl who was a real character at the front of the class. Shes paralyzed from the legs down and is in a pushchair, not a wheelchair. We gave her the mask and the paint etc, and she just stared at it, looking totally unimpressed. Besher asked her if she knew what to do and she nodded. 10 minutes later she still hadn't done much, so I picked up a pot of yellow paint and paced it in front of her, she wasn't happy, and told me matter of factly to get it away from her and clean her hands, they were covered in paint. Eventually she warmed up to the task and painted a mask with some sequins and pom poms and started to laugh with us.

I noticed a young boy, around the age of 5, staring at his white mask. He hadn't even attempted to pick up a paint brush. I picked up the brush and showed him how to paint, he was so shy, and nervous. I slowly encouraged him, with the help of suleman, to paint my face, which he did incredibly gently, he soon relaxed and painted his mask green.

At the front of the class, sulemans favorite boy, and my favorite boy. They were mini me's of us. Mr OCD, as sul nick named his boy, and mr messy, aka anastasia, I nicknamed mine. The two boys couldnt of sat in a worse place. One was extremly neat and tidy, washing his hands every few minutes, getting stressed if paint went on his part of the table, and neatly arranged all his sequins. He was a mini suleman. The boy next to him, my kinda boy, used the biggest brush he could find, loaded it with paint, and splashed it all over his mask, all over the table and all over himself. He reminded me of me. He continued to cover his mask in so much paint, then the table. He then went on to stand on his chair and bend over his table in order to paint. This boy was me, that's how I paint !

The rest of the class were getting on beautifully, creating unique masks to take home, to wear proudly, carefully putting their sequins where they wanted them and giggling together, checking out each others masks.

Part 2 coming later.

Have a good day !

Lets call her E.

Day 3, school update, part 3.

I hadn't noticed her in the class. I don't know how I had missed her, as she has a great personality, loves to laugh, is a real joker and isn't exactly quiet.

Let's call her E. I started playing with her in the garden after our art class. She was jumping all over me. Kids jumping on me and me taking blood thinners daily equals me now being covered in bruises wink emoticon

I had E and about 6 other children on my lap back and shoulders at once going down the slide. They were loving it.

Mr Khaled called us in for lunch. I snuck E into the room and sat her on my lap, I joked with her that id tell Mr Khaled she had to stay, he laughed and said it was no problem. He adored her.

He told us she lived at the school. He had received a phone call from her frantic mother 3 years ago when she escaped Syria. She needed a safe place and word had got out about Mr Khaled. He invited them to the school, 3 years on, there still there.

With the help of my lovely translater, we chatted.

Me :Who do you live here with, E? 
E: My mumma and my sisters. 
me: oh lovely, and your baba?

We didn't think about the complications of asking this question, it just came naturally.

E: Oh my baba is at home in Aleppo.

MR KHALED then quietly informed us her father had been murdered and her mother immediately fled from terror, however, she doesn't know this.

Our eyes filled with tears.

Deep breaths. Hold it together girls.

Me: what do you want to do when your older?

E: I want to be a head master like Mr Khaled, he's really nice.

me: who's your best friend?

E: MR KHALED of course!!!!

Then we returned to the slide

She's 6. Adorable. I love her.

Syrian Elite school, day 3, part 2.

 Okay,day 3 ( were now on day 7, oops ! ) Our first day at the school. Update part 2.

Myself Matt and Rosa set up a classroom at the top of the school to paint face masks and paintings.I passed around some postcards I had from home showing bournemouth, mudeford, hengistbury head, the beach huts, the sand bank, the new forest and the horses, all the children loved seeing them, and a lot of them wanted to keep the cards. Simple things hey ? They were so excited to see where me and matt were from.

We had 45 children, and 3 volunteers, it was hectic but so worth it. Each child decorated their own mask, each one was different, some covered in glitter and sequins, some with hand painted hearts, flags and flowers. My cheeky friend,the boy who told me I was 35 years old and should go on a diet, was the messy kid of the class, my kinda artist. Me and him were going to be firm friends.

At the back we had two young boys, one around 4 years old and one around 6 years old
They needed a lot of encouragement from Matt and I to paint their masks, they were a bit lost to begin with. With plenty of encouragement and help they painted beautiful masks and went on to paint a few paintings.

After the children had painted their masks we handed out A4 sheets of paper, telling the children to paint happiness or happy memories.

The shy 6 year old painted two paintings. He painted a green train. I thought it was a tank, but he told us it was a train. He also painted two houses, next to each other. One was red, on fire, and in Syria. One was blue, that was his home in Turkey.

Another young boy, around 9 years old, was eager to show us his painting. His smile lighting up his freckled face, he reminded me of a young me, just a boy version wink emoticon he held up his painting, a heart painted in the colors of the Syrian flag with some writing. Before Rosalinda could translate, he translated himself telling us 
'Syria is In my heart '

Other children wrote their name or drew love hearts and Syrian flags, telling us these were there happy memories, though they are happy now.

Mr Khaled, the head teacher,popped in and out during the day,checking the children's art work and congratulating them.

Later in Mr Khaleds office he asked us if we noticed the 5 girls who snuck In half way through. Through Rosalinda, we chatted. I was going to make a joke, a joke about syrians being smuggled, but I thought better of it. As of reading my mind Mr Khaled said :

' I'm the smuggler, I smuggle syrians in to art lessons, AND I do it for free! '

The man has a great sense of humor and loves all the children In his school.....

Part 3 coming soon, off for some dinner now !

day 3, syrian elite school, Istanbul part 1

Day 3.

Syrian Elite school. Part 1.

On day 3 myself, Matt, Lorraine and Dean from Edinburgh cares / step in my shoes and Rosa, who helps me run help the Syrians in Istanbul, went to Syrian Elite school in Karagunluk, somewhere right in the heart of a poor conservative neighborhood in Fatih, Istanbul. Leaving all health and safety rules back in the UK last week we all piled into a taxi, Lorraine Dean and Matt squashed in the back with me perched on Matt's lap, of course, we took a selfie.

After navigating our way through winding streets, me thinking Id never find this place again, we get out of the taxi and Rosa leads us down a small side alley and up some large steps painted lilac. We walk straight into the schools play ground and meet Mr Khalad, the schools owner/ head master. Straightaway I was surprised, so was Lorraine, we both looked at each other and said, ' wow this is beautiful'

Children of all ages were playing outside on swings, slides, rocking horses and running around a small wishing well. We already loved the place and we had only just set eyes on the garden. Mr Khaled led us into his office and ordered us tea, we were given some weather we wanted some or not.

Mr khalad went onto explain how he had set up this school. He never intended for it to be a school. He opened almost 4 years ago, he opened the school as a safe place for Syrian refugees to stay, a shelter so to say. The children were desperate to learn so a class made its self, consisting of around 10 students. Soon enough more local syrians were hearing of Mr Khalad and this school he had set up, word spread like wild fire, and more kids were turning up daily, now almost 4 years on Mr khalad has almost 400 students.

Only 10 % of his students pay their school fees because the parents just can not afford it. The school costs £24 per month, per child. Nothing really to you and I, but a lot to a family who lost everything in the war and can rarely find work in a new country. Mr khalad desperately needs long term help with funds for the school, he fears he may have to shut down, as he doesnt have the money to keep the school open and keep all the children in education. The teachers, qualified teachers from Syria, are not getting paid, they also need a wage to survive.

Mr khalad explained a lot more ( more to come in following posts, be patient people, my fingers hurt haha) before giving us a little tour of the school. We entered one classroom and all the children stood up, sang us a brief song in arabic, and to be honest, treated us like royalty. They were so respectful, polite, welcoming and happy to see us. I introduced myself in English, then Turkish, asking who spoke turkish, many of them chatted back to me in turkish.

One young boy, probably the cheekiest in the class, caught my attention.

' Abla, neden türkçe biliyor musunuz? ' My big sister, why do you know turkish ?'

'Bodrum öğrenilen nedeni' ' I learnt it in Bodrum'

'Kaç yaşındasınız' I asked him how old he was, he replied telling me he was 11. I asked him how old he thought I was.

Yeah yeah Anastasia, dont ask a kid how old you look.

'30 / 35 yaşında olan' ' Your about 30 or 35'

Great, now I am gonna paint this kids face and send him home covered in glitter.

Part 2 coming soon.

The wild goose chase to find paint

Day 1

The wild goose chase to buy paint.

We had to buy paint for the schools. I had been told by many people to go to eminunu to buy the paint and so on. Anyone who knows eminunu knows you can buy pretty much anything there. We left our hotel and walked up the extremely steep hill to get to the tramway, I warned matt that where we're going is kinda crazy. Its the real turkey, it's a bit mad back there. So off we go, we started in the area I always walk in, and I know there's no point there, it's all fancy lacy wedding dresses, circumcision outfits for little boys and henna outfits. So I ask a shop keeper, in Turkey, where can I buy children's paint? Down there to the left, he says, pointing ahead to the crowds. Down there, to the left we go.

More wedding dresses. We don't want a damn wedding dress, and we were on borrowed time, I had a meeting to get to. We keep going. I ask another shop keeper. Oh yes to the left then to the right then to the left. Okay off we go, we end up further into the bazaar. To the left to the right. Nope. Nothing. Were now in the back pack district. Everything in Istanbul is done in zones, like a saucepan zone, or a guitar zone, it's pretty good, we just needed to find the art zone....

I go into the back pack shop, ask the same question, feeling a fool and thinking everyone's laughing at these yabanci 's telling them to the left to the left. He says go to the top of the hill, to the right, then the second left, then the first right, you'll definitely find art stuff there. Off we trudge through the crowds. Finally we find something that looks like an art shop. Its a pen shop. No I don't sell paint the man says, go to the left then take the third right and then the fourth left you'll find paint. We do that. Of course. No. But we find a baklava shop and stop for sweet goodness.

Laugh at this wild goose chase were on for paint. We finish our sweets and head off down the hill. I see a post man, he's bound to know where I can buy paint. He listens and takes the word 'children' from my sentence and sends us on our jolly way. Finally a slight breakthrough, we were in the children zone! I popped into a shop selling scissors paper etc and asked the same question, do you sell children's paint, no he says, I know who does if you take the next.... I cut in, I said please can you just take us there.

We have taken 1 million lefts and rights. So he sends his young son with us through an alley way to the left up some steps to the right round the corner and there it was: heaven! An art shop. With paint. With canvas. Everything. We were so pleased to see this guy. I told him how long we had been searching for paint, he laughed and pointed at a shelf full of paint. Ill have all of it, I said.

All of it? he looked at us like we were crazy.

Why do you want all this paint? 

I went on to tell him were working in a very poor Syrian school, teaching art to kids suffering trauma. Turns out my Turkish is good when it needs to be. He nodded, he nodded some more. Okay he said. Ill give it at stock price. Wow, nice one. Ill also give these 20 boxes (200 pots of paint) for free. FOR FREE. Nice Mr art man was donating to the Syrian school.

We chatted about isis and how sad it makes him that millions of people have died and lost their homes. He said their radicalised, this isn't the real Islam. Do you want some tea? I hate tea. We drank two. He told us his son lives in London and that his wife would love to meet us. He called his wife and she came. We packed up all the paint, we had our hand luggage bad packed tight plus two large carrier bags. His wife chatted about how great it was that we were doing this, she pointed at some felt and said did we want some, I politely declined because we had already spent a lot. She said no its a present from me, so I eagerly nodded. She went off and came back with her arms loaded with a3 sheets of felt and a felt bag for me. How wonderful. We paid and said goodbye.

We spent 600 lira on paint, 150 pounds. We had over 1000 pots of paint!

Next stop scissors paper and glue. We walled down a few streets and like magic we were suddenly in the art zone, I quickly grabbed scissors and glue another 100 lira / 25 pounds. Then paper. I grabbed 6 packs of a4 printing paper, not taking into consideration how heavy they were to carry through the maze of this bazaar. Each pack had 500 sheets in. Plenty. Finally we were done. What would take 1 hour and 1 shop took 4 hours and 20 shops in Istanbul!

600 lira on paint
50 on scissors 
50 on glue 
50 on paper

Total 750 lira / 180 pounds.

The looks on the kids faces over the next week while they do art? Priceless.

Thanks Matt for carrying it all!