When he finally managed to cross the Turkish border to find sanctuary from jihadists in Syria, Abdelaziz Temo looked for shade to find refuge from the sun and water to refresh himself.
He stopped in a small mosque in the Turkish border town of Suruc. But three days later, he has still not left the building as Turkey struggles to accommodate the influx of almost 140,000 Kurdish refugees.
Under the minaret, the courtyard is still occupied by some 50 Kurdish refugees who, like Abdelaziz, fled the onslaught from Islamic State (IS) jihadists on the mainly Kurdish region around the Syrian town of Ain al-Arab, known as Kobane to Kurds.
Sat on mattresses, all they can do is hope for better days.
"There (in Syria) we lived in houses and we felt happy at home. Now, we are refugees," said Abdelaziz.
"You see in what condition we are living with our women and our children. We have absolutely nothing, it is shameful."
The new inhabitants of the mosque have for the last days been solely reliant on the generosity of the local Turkish inhabitants.
A pile of plates with the remnants of an old meal are stacked in the corner while the stench from the lavatories is palpable.
"We can't even buy our own food. Some people don't even have enough money for bread or cigarettes," Abdelaziz added. "Fortunately, people here are helping us out of the goodness of their own hearts."
In front of the mosque, an old lorry screeches to a stop. It is time for the distribution of provisions, a gift from merchants from the neighbouring city of Urfa. The refugees crowd round the vehicle, from which blankets are distributed.
- 'We need to leave here' -
"We collected money in the name of solidarity and we bought these blankets," said one of the local figures behind the action, Ahmet Karabulut.
"We are giving them out in mosques, in halls, or in the schools where the refugees are living," he added.
The Red Crescent and other NGOs are also distributing supplies, but despite the genuine local generosity, conditions are still precarious.
"There is no way for the children to wash, there is no school and nothing for them to do," said Kurdish refugee Naide Mehmet Ali.
"We need to leave here."
Mustafa Bekir has more luck. He has a roof. A teacher from Ain al-Arab, he has found refuge along with his family with his son Brusk who has been living in the Turkish region's main city Urfa for the last two years.
But the conditions are far from simple. Mustafa Bekir has been living with some 40 other people -- grandchildren, uncles and cousins -- squashed together in four very cramped rooms.
"Some people sleep on the mattresses, others on the carpet, on the roof or on the balcony, or even in the city in the parks," said Bekir.
"Lucky that it is still summer," he added with an ironic smile.
Life is hard, but family solidarity remains. "For the moment, we have done what we could with what we had," said Brusk.
"Later, the young people will go and look for work, but if we need to we will just have to sell what we have in the house."
Mustafa Bekir remains pessimistic: "We will not be able to continue like this for long but there is little hope of being able to return to the country."
When he finally managed to cross the Turkish border to find sanctuary from jihadists in Syria, Abdelaziz Temo looked for shade to find refuge from the sun and water to refresh himself.
He stopped in a small mosque in the Turkish border town of Suruc. But three days later, he has still not left the building as Turkey struggles to accommodate the influx of almost 140,000 Kurdish refugees.
Under the minaret, the courtyard is still occupied by some 50 Kurdish refugees who, like Abdelaziz, fled the onslaught from Islamic State (IS) jihadists on the mainly Kurdish region around the Syrian town of Ain al-Arab, known as Kobane to Kurds.
Sat on mattresses, all they can do is hope for better days.
“There (in Syria) we lived in houses and we felt happy at home. Now, we are refugees,” said Abdelaziz.
“You see in what condition we are living with our women and our children. We have absolutely nothing, it is shameful.”
The new inhabitants of the mosque have for the last days been solely reliant on the generosity of the local Turkish inhabitants.
A pile of plates with the remnants of an old meal are stacked in the corner while the stench from the lavatories is palpable.
“We can’t even buy our own food. Some people don’t even have enough money for bread or cigarettes,” Abdelaziz added. “Fortunately, people here are helping us out of the goodness of their own hearts.”
In front of the mosque, an old lorry screeches to a stop. It is time for the distribution of provisions, a gift from merchants from the neighbouring city of Urfa. The refugees crowd round the vehicle, from which blankets are distributed.
– ‘We need to leave here’ –
“We collected money in the name of solidarity and we bought these blankets,” said one of the local figures behind the action, Ahmet Karabulut.
“We are giving them out in mosques, in halls, or in the schools where the refugees are living,” he added.
The Red Crescent and other NGOs are also distributing supplies, but despite the genuine local generosity, conditions are still precarious.
“There is no way for the children to wash, there is no school and nothing for them to do,” said Kurdish refugee Naide Mehmet Ali.
“We need to leave here.”
Mustafa Bekir has more luck. He has a roof. A teacher from Ain al-Arab, he has found refuge along with his family with his son Brusk who has been living in the Turkish region’s main city Urfa for the last two years.
But the conditions are far from simple. Mustafa Bekir has been living with some 40 other people — grandchildren, uncles and cousins — squashed together in four very cramped rooms.
“Some people sleep on the mattresses, others on the carpet, on the roof or on the balcony, or even in the city in the parks,” said Bekir.
“Lucky that it is still summer,” he added with an ironic smile.
Life is hard, but family solidarity remains. “For the moment, we have done what we could with what we had,” said Brusk.
“Later, the young people will go and look for work, but if we need to we will just have to sell what we have in the house.”
Mustafa Bekir remains pessimistic: “We will not be able to continue like this for long but there is little hope of being able to return to the country.”
