By Murad Sezer
A new crossing point was set up along the Turkish-Syrian border last week by the government of Turkey, where humanitarian agencies and the Red Crescent offered first aid and registered the new arrivals.
The frontier was normally a hive of activity, with wailing children and families desperately trying to carry whatever they could manage across the dusty terrain. Heavily armed security officers patrolled the border and police would search bags before the refugees passed into Turkey.
When they arrived on the other side, some would sit on their luggage looking lost, others would scramble onto buses or trucks, which would leave three or four times a day to ferry people to refugee camps on the Turkish side.
On this particular day, I went in the morning to check how many refugees were registering but, to my surprise, the refugee collection didn’t start; the dust swept area was eerily silent, deserted except for a few policemen and the abandoned cars of Syrian refugees visible through the barbed wire on the border.
Bewildered, I started to look around me. My eyes fell on an empty baby carriage, and I thought: “How is it possible for someone to leave behind such a basic, but important, thing for a baby?”