On The Border Of War: The Displaced And The Desperadoes Living On The Fringes Of Syria's Bloodshed -- Daily Mail
Two men sit waiting in the central reservation of a sun-bleached highway, staring into the distance. They are staring over an imaginary line that separates Turkey, where they sit, from their homeland, Syria.
They are two of an estimated three million Syrians who have fled their country as it has, over the past three years, been reduced to rubble by civil war.
Today they hope to piece back together some of their shattered lives. They expect the arrival of relatives, fellow refugees fleeing the fierce fighting in Syria's North West. But they don't know when, or if, their loved-ones will arrive.
These poignant photographs were captured by photojournalist Vianney Le Caer, from Elephant and Castle, South London. He went to Turkey to document the lives of some of the many Syrians who have fled the bloodshed, as well as those of some of the fighters who are embroiled in it.
More than a million Syrians have entered Turkey since the uprising began. Its response to the crisis was praised as 'exemplary' by UNHCR, but it has so far housed just 300,000 of those in official camps.
'There are lot of urban refugees,' said Mr Le Caer. 'They go into Antakya, they start businesses, or sometimes in informal settlements as well, they rent rooms.
'It's a very porous border, for the refugees and for the fighters as well. They go in and out, it's very easy.
'For instance, when they have huge fights in Syria and they have a lot of casualties - injured people, I mean - they would bring them from Syria to the border.
'From there, a Turkish ambulance would drive them to hospital.'Other fighters were not so friendly. Outside the refugee camp at Kilis, Mr Le Caer ran into a group from the Al-Nusra Front.
One of whom bore the scar of an AK47 bullet to the face, which had taken his eye and part of his nose.
'He was chilling with all his comrades, about four or five of them,' said Mr Le Caer. 'I have this ring with this little cross. When they saw that they asked me to turn it around.
'They were half-joking and half-serious about the fact I was not Muslim. They were telling me Bin Laden is good and all this stuff. I think it was to provoke me.
'I stayed like five minutes then I left.'Nearby, the entrance to Kilis refugee camp is announced by a huge arch which wouldn't look out of place at the entrance to a supermarket car park.
Refugee management on an industrial scale, the camp has been established on a semi-permanent basis, with its tents replaced by shipping containers and infrastructure so good it has been hailed as 'perfect' by the New York Times, which noted how 'many of the containers have satellite dishes.'
Residents are allocated Oyster-like swipe cards to enter and exit. Shops are reportedly so well stocked they put Syria's own markets to shame – even in peacetime.
But with surroundings so sterile, and cramped, many seek to let off steam outside, in the surrounding wasteland, where children play and older people stare wistfully across the frontier.
The influx of so many Syrians has led to the de facto establishment of a state within a state, with Syrian infrastructure existing parallel to the established Turkish civil society.
One such institution is the Hemel Hospital, just five miles from the Syrian border. Run by Syrian doctors and financed by Qatar, its ambulances regularly pick up wounded fighters.
'You have fighters but you also have regular Syrians with kids,' said Mr Le Caer. 'It was like a regular hospital.'
Albeit one that sees a lot of traumatically severe injuries. One such belonged to Mr Le Caer's driver, who took the opportunity of being at the Emel hospital to get his own scars checked out.
Previously a fighter with the outwardly Islamist al-Nusra front, he said he had been shot twice in the belly with a 14.5-calibre anti-aircraft gun - the kind usually used to shoot down helicopters.
'Doctors said it was a miracle he was still alive,' said Mr Le Caer. The driver was set to return to the fighting in weeks.Another Syrian establishment on Turkish soil was Al-Huda Primary School in Antakya. Financed by an anonymous Saudi donor, it has about ten teachers for around 350 children. They all had tables, books and uniforms.
Its headmaster is a former agricultural engineer, Mohammad Aikhattab. 'He told me on several occasions that he felt the job he was doing was the most important,' said Mr Le Caer. 'Because he was trying to rebuild this generation, this lost generation.'
The pupils, said Mr Le Caer, were well behaved. 'They seemed pretty normal,' he went on, 'even though, the headmaster told me, a lot of them suffer from PTSD.'
In many of the locations visited by Mr Le Caer, although they were supposedly safe havens, the sounds of war could be heard just over the border. And in some places the violence spilled over.
In the town of Yayladagi, host to a smallish camp of several thousand, a mosque bore the scar of a Syrian army artillery shell.
'Nobody died. There was one person injured,' said Mr Le Caer. 'And the mosque is... as you see...
'They don't really know if it's a mistake or not, but the Syrian army fired nine shells. All the time you could hear the bombs, fighting is going on right up to the border.'
Just yards away, a couple of thousand Syrians live under canvas in Yayladagi refugee camp, right on the very border. Mr Le Caer was only able to photograph the camp by climbing to the tip of a nearby minaret, an escapade earned him a confrontation with Klashnikov-toting Turkish police and a warning to get out of town.
Finally Mr Le Caer documented the family life of his fixer, Abdul, who lives with his family and another family in a small house in Antakya. An English teacher in his native country, he is able to earn a little cash thanks to his language skills, but has no formal employment. His rent is paid thanks to loans from relatives.
Mr Le Caer said: 'I asked him, do you think you could go back to Syria. He said, "Since I've fled, I've passed a point of no return. If I go back now I'll be welcomed by Bashar."
'He told me the only thing he hopes is that the bombing will stop.'
