Syrian refugee women are using their skills to help children survive winter.
Children and their families are living in basic conditions, lacking warm clothes, blankets or heating.
Meet Ahmed and Harry.
Iman fled the war in Syria with her four children, but just when she thought they were safe – they faced a threat they couldn’t escape: winter
Syrian children have been fighting to survive war, hunger, poverty and disease. But now they are fighting to survive the cold.
Yemen is one of the worst places in the world to be a child. UNICEF supporters are helping children survive.
Eight-year-old Bassam and his family have been running from war for five years, only to have it chase them every step of the way
My bags and I are heading to Cox’s Bazar in Bangladesh — the largest refugee settlement in the world
Hidden in the ghettos, scattered on the outskirts of this ancient turmeric-coloured city, and milling about in centres are hundreds of migrants, stranded, with dashed hopes and unfulfilled dreams.
As the world shifts its attention to the thousands of families fleeing war torn Syria, I feel obligated to write about the few who have returned.
The impact of climate change on kids has increased spectacularly over the last ten years. It's now a concern that has huge ramifications for how families live.
As violence escalates in the Syrian region of Raqqa, families have been fleeing their homes to poorly equipped temporary shelters and camps.
Schools are helping Syrian children overcome the horrors they’ve experienced. But freezing classrooms are driving countless children away from learning.
Syrian children have already been through so much. And now as a deadly winter looms, children face snow storms and the freezing cold.
In the night I wake suddenly, because I see the killing and the people who were shot. I see those things again...
It would be unconscionable for us to watch other countries suffer and drown while we reap the benefits of cheap labour from those same countries.
Abdullah rubs the stem of a flying dragonfly toy between his palms, as if for warmth, and gasps with delight as friction shoots the colourful propellor...