In Syria’s Yarmuk, artists paint amid the ruins

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Artist Hinaya Kibabi paints in the Yarmuk Palestinian refugee camp on the southern outskirts of the capital Damascus on August 15, 2018. (AFP)
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Artist Abdallah al-Harith, 21, paints in the Yarmuk Palestinian refugee camp on the southern outskirts of the capital Damascus on August 15, 2018. (AFP)
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Artists paint in the Yarmuk Palestinian refugee camp on the southern outskirts of the capital Damascus on August 15, 2018. (AFP)
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Artist Abdallah al-Harith, 21, paints in the Yarmuk Palestinian refugee camp on the southern outskirts of the capital Damascus on August 15, 2018. (AFP)
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An artist paints in the Yarmuk Palestinian refugee camp on the southern outskirts of the capital Damascus on August 15, 2018. (AFP)
Updated 24 August 2018
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In Syria’s Yarmuk, artists paint amid the ruins

  • Around 140,000 residents fled clashes between the regime and rebels in 2012, leaving the rest to face severe food shortages under government encirclement
  • Set up in 1957 to house Palestinian refugees, over the decades it became a crowded district that was eventually swallowed up by Damascus

YARMUK, Syria: Not far from his destroyed home in Syria’s Yarmuk camp for Palestinian refugees, 21-year-old Abdallah Al-Harith dabs bright red paint onto a canvas standing amid the grey ruins.
Last week, he was among 12 young artists to set up their easels in the once-crowded camp turned Damascus suburb, now largely abandoned after seven years of civil war.
Equipped with paint brushes and pencils, they set out to translate suffering into art in a neighborhood ravaged by years of bombardment and siege.
“We’re bringing back life to a dark place,” said Harith, who fled Yarmuk several years ago, but returned after the regime ousted Daesh group jihadists in May.
“I had such a lump in my throat when I first came back to the camp. At first I couldn’t draw anything,” said the fine arts student.
“But then I realized that any glimpse of life amid all this death was a victory,” he said, gesturing toward the battered buildings around him.
He and his peers stood sweeping paint across their canvases while the gentle melody of an oud — a Middle Eastern lute — was broadcast across the smashed concrete. Harith painted an image of a small boy emerging from the ground, holding a bright red apple.
“It’s supposed to represent new life,” Harith said.
“I actually saw something like this once: children with apples playing again on what had been fighting ground.”
Before the war, Yarmuk was home to around 160,000 people, the United Nations says.
Set up in 1957 to house Palestinian refugees, over the decades it became a crowded district that was eventually swallowed up by Damascus.
But today it lies almost abandoned. Around 140,000 residents fled clashes between the regime and rebels in 2012, leaving the rest to face severe food shortages under government encirclement. In 2014, a harrowing photograph of gaunt-looking residents massing between ravaged buildings to receive handouts caused global outrage.
Earlier this year, fighting between loyalists and jihadists displaced most of the remaining residents, according to the United Nations’ agency for Palestinian refugees, UNRWA.
President Bashar Assad’s troops retook control in May, ousting IS fighters from their last urban stronghold on the outskirts of the capital.
In late May, UNRWA said an immediate return of residents was unlikely due to extensive damage to key infrastructure such as the water and power networks.
Visiting the camp last month, UNRWA commissioner-general Pierre Krahenbuhl said he had rarely seen such damage.
“The scale of the destruction in Yarmuk compares to very little else that I have seen in many years of humanitarian work in conflict zones,” he said.
On Saturday, the work of the young artists was displayed at the entrance of the Yarmuk camp, with a small crowd making the trip to see it.
Painter Hinaya Kebabi depicted a young boy with a missing eye, holding up a drawing of another eye to conceal his wound, the 22-year-old explained.
“One day, I hope people will come back here to color, not rubble,” she said.
One painting depicted streams of red running down a dark building.
In another, an emaciated man was curled up naked in the foetal position.
After the images were shared online, several Internet users slammed the project as provocative.
“The camp is neither romantic nor a place for drawing,” 28-year-old Abeer Abassiyeh said, as most former residents remain unable to return to their homes.
But Mohammed Jalbout, one of the organizers who hails from the Palestinian camp, defended the project.
“We all have homes here. I haven’t been back to mine or been able to inspect it,” he said.
But, he said, “at least through art, we’re trying to breathe a little life back into this place.”


How science is reshaping early years education 

Updated 27 December 2025
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How science is reshaping early years education 

DUBAI: As early years education comes under renewed scrutiny worldwide, one UAE-based provider is making the case that nurseries must align more closely with science.

Blossom Nursery & Preschool, which operates 32 locations across the UAE, is championing a science-backed model designed to close what it sees as a long-standing gap between research and classroom practice.

“For decades, early years education has been undervalued globally — even though science shows the first five years are the most critical for brain development,” said Lama Bechara-Jakins, CEO for the Middle East at Babilou Family and a founding figure behind Blossom’s regional growth, in an interview with Arab News.

Lama Bechara-Jakins is the CEO for the Middle East at Babilou Family and a founding figure behind Blossom’s regional growth. (Supplied)

She explained that the Sustainable Education Approach was created to address “a fundamental gap between what we know from science and what actually happens in nurseries.”

Developed by Babilou Family, the approach draws on independent analysis of research in neuroscience, epigenetics, and cognitive and social sciences, alongside established educational philosophies and feedback from educators and families across 10 countries. The result is a framework built around six pillars; emotional and physical security, natural curiosity, nature-based learning, inclusion, child rhythms, and partnering with parents.

Two research insights, Bechara-Jakins says, were particularly transformative. “Neuroscience shows that young children cannot learn until they feel safe,” she said, adding that stress and inconsistent caregiving can “literally alter the architecture of the developing brain.” 

Equally significant was evidence around child rhythms, which confirmed that “pushing children academically too early is not just unhelpful — it can be counterproductive.”

Feedback from families and educators reinforced these findings. Across regions, common concerns emerged around pressure on young children, limited outdoor time and weak emotional connections in classrooms. What surprised her most was that “parents all sensed that something was missing, even if they couldn’t articulate the science behind it.”

At classroom level, the strongest body of evidence centres on secure relationships. Research shows that “secure attachments drive healthy brain development” and that children learn through trusted adults. At Blossom, this translates into practices such as assigning each child “one primary educator,” prioritising calm environments, and viewing behaviour through “a neuroscience lens — as stress signals, not misbehaviour.”

Bechara-Jakins believes curiosity and nature remain overlooked in many early years settings, despite strong evidence that both accelerate learning and reduce stress. In urban centres such as Dubai, she argues, nature-based learning is “not a luxury. It is a developmental need.” 

For Blossom, this means daily outdoor time, natural materials, gardening, and sensory play — intentional choices aimed at giving children what science says they need to thrive.