Lucrezia

Digital scans of TV Magazine

Here you can listen the interview http://www.rtl.fr/actu/societe-faits-divers/rtl-soir-du-12-janv-2016-7781308298

Tomorrow 11/01 at 18.30 on the French radio RTL, Mika will talk of his recent action in Lebanon with UNHCR! To listen the radio: http://www.rtl.fr/direct Here, we can listen the replay (if I understood correctly) http://www.rtl.fr/emission/rtl-soir Confirmed by Marc-Olivier Fogiel on Twitter https://twitter.com/FogielMarcO/status/686215859413630976 Thanks to Isa and Corinne for the news

Mika is on Gente magazine this week

Thank you so much for this great initiative! I'm so happy to see already all these donations: it warms my heart I'll make my donation this weekendand in maintime I'll spread the word!! Thanks again

1. The meeting with Mustafa My first visit was with UNHCR in a settlement "informal" in a banana plantation in the south of Beirut. Mustafa welcomed me, a boy of 12 years of Idlib living in the colony for four years. For about two hours he took me around and introduced me to the families who in turn have shared with me their story. Mustafa is incredibly charismatic: he told me that in recent years has been living among the banana trees while playing football with the other kids in this small settlement of about 8 families. When I asked him if he ever came out from there, he said that, for various reasons, had never been allowed. When I asked if there were things that he missed compared to his life at home, he said he could not remember; He knew that things could and should have been different but he simply did not know how. I asked him what was his greatest wish and he replied that he wanted to go back to school. However not in the public school where he had tried to go when he arrived in Lebanon. There he was subjected to acts of bullying very violent: "That was not a school, I can not go there," he said. He dreams of going to a private school, like most of the students in Lebanon. 2. The oldest woman in the colony Mustafa introduced me to one of the older members of the colony. This woman grabbed my hand while she was speaking to me and she would never left it even if Mustafa was trying to take me away. She had to give up his life and all that she had built in Sirya. She had a house that she loved and she lived there with her family all close. Now she is becoming old in a banana field and she is unable to walk. To those around me she asked for a wheelchair and to all of us to pray for peace. She asks that everyone pray for peace and to pray for peace even all those who will see her in a photograph or in a video. 3. Khaled and his family This is the family of Khaled and it was the first time I met children who were born in a colony of refugees, who were born in exile. When the family arrived in Lebanon they slept in the plantation under the leaves of banana trees. At the end they mounted tents that over four years, thanks to the materials provided UNCHR, they have become waterproof shacks and with a concrete floor. We removed our shoes before entering in every home. Khaled's family consists of eight people living in two rooms, each of no more than three by three meters. The improvements that they have managed to make to their cabin, especially for the winter, are a blessing to their quality of life but also an ominous sign that they have little hope of returning home soon. 4. Refugees There are no official settlements in Lebanon. Refugees must find a place to stay: in private possessions or areas where they can mount tents, or live in apartments or abandoned buildings. Refugees must pay the rent and this thing is often overlooked by us who observe them. And for the refugees who don’t have permission to work, who have exhausted their savings, who don’t have anything, the rent is a monthly deadline that paralyzes them. For extremely vulnerable families who benefit of financial assistance from UNHCR through a program of cash assistance fueled by not so many funds, the rent will eat most of the small number that they receive monthly by UNHCR. The average time that a refugee remains in exile is 18 years old. Meet these families and especially children revealed this statistic and I felt the dramatic reality. 5. Ahmed and his family This is the home of Ahmad, his mother Ayouch, his sister and his young wife. From the moment I entered, I could feel that they were a house and a happy family. Looking back on all that I felt during the visit, the feeling that I recurred more often is their resumption, recovery: resilience. The refusal to stop living and love. The lack of freedom is just the thing from which they were fleeing. 6. Their life Ahmed and his wife just had a baby and they presented her to me; she has two months and the eyes are surrounded by kajal. Ahmad is 22 years old and despite his calm demeanor and smile, he is incredibly frustrated. I asked him if he was able to find a job and he told me that he lives like in an invisible cage. He is unable to find a sponsor Lebanese or the money that he needs for the work permit: since he’s non-resident, he isn’t allowed to work officially. The "informal" settlement is near Beirut and the checkpoints setted up to stop non-residents refugees who move to the city, are very strict. Ahmad can not leave the colony, where he lives, can not progress in life or earn money to support his family. He feels humiliated and unable to be the man he would like to be. What really impressed me is the support that his family offers to him. The common culture of machismo has been put aside. They are held together sustaining each other without judging. It is not difficult to understand how the depression is a problem so evident in men among the refugees. 7. The story of Samir At lunch time we got back in the center of Beirut, where a refugee named Samir (we changed his name for security reasons) agreed to tell his story and invited me to eat at his apartment. We entered in an uninhabited building of the 30’s. Dirt and left down the drain, the building shows signs of a beautiful past with its corridors, the large hall and the apartments with terraces now destroyed. On the ground floor in a large wooden door, a broken neon sign indicates a cocktail bar abandoned long time ago. 8. The house and the story On the first floor I met Samir. A tall, slender and elegant in his forties. With a gesture he invited me into the house. The apartment is large, about 200mq; the tiled floor is dirty and dusty, the walls are damp and moldy. In the back of the apartment there is a small room that stands out from the rest: clean and freshly painted with walls decorated with polka dots, hand-carveddots . I took off my shoes and I followed him into the room. That is the only room (except for a small kitchen) that he is allowed to live in the house and the rental costs him about 300$ per month. Samir made a dish of stuffed meat with vegetables and rice. The team of UNHCR and I ate while standing in the kitchen, passing each other the cutlery. Samir told us that recently he had worked as a cook in Beirut but once they knew about his homosexuality, they forced to leave the work. He spoke about his friendship with his wife, they talk together often and how much he loves his children and his family. However Samir knows he does not have much choice; his dream is to run away and somehow take away his family from Syria, passing from Turkey. 9. Homosexuals and Daesh We sat on the floor and the smell of homemade tomato sauce has spread to all the empty rooms. Samir told me to know who I am and that, considering my history and my sexual orientation, he hoped that I would be able to hear his story and then tell it with mind and heart open. Samir fled from Syria two years ago. He has a degree in hotel management and he has worked as a chef in one of the best boutique hotel of his city. He was forced to leave because the secret that he has kept all his life could be too dangerous in the hands of Daesh. As a young man, his family forced him to marry so he has a wife and three children, but Samir was a known member of the LGBT community. His homosexuality is unknown to his wife and children (family that he adores) even now. With the arrival of Daesh, the gay community has been targeted and Samir, managed to keep secret his double life for years, he has witnessed of public executions of some of his friends, in some cases thrown down from the top of a building. When the Daesh started to recruit and convert many of his gay friends, Samir feared that someone within the gay community itself could betray him. Samir was afraid of being discovered every day and he knew that in the monent it would happen, his only options remaining in Syria would be two: to be part of Daesh and betray himself and others to survive, or be killed. Not being able to bear the thought, Samir has left Syria for Lebanon without notice, leaving behind his family and his life. 10. A support group for the LGBT refugees After lunch, Samir has accompanied us in a near community to meet a group of support for the refugees LGBT. I met 15 young people between 18 and 24 years during what would turn out to be one of the most incredible encounters of my life until today. To begin with they shown me a video made by them, in which they tell their stories and the reasons why they left their homes. I have never met people more alone in my entire life. These guys are yes refugees but also young people kicked off from their homes, families and communities. They were persecuted by society and even by law and all for something that they have not even chosen. 11. The stories I heard the story of a hermaphrodite girl kicked out of the house and now she is a prostitute. Have recourse to sex for survival is nothing new for the boys in this group. When she was attacked by street gangs, she feared for her own life as the murder was considered "halal", lawful. Another boy, born as a woman, was waiting for a new place because his family wanted to kill him and they had hired people to find it. 12. The smiles I've never seen people with fewer opportunities and more obstacles. I have never met people with more reasons to be sad. And yet, I have never met a group of people more stimulating than them. After our discussion, a group of refugee musicians from another community supported by UNHCR has joined us. Music was what we needed. At the first notes the LGBT group has put aside the pain, their stories and they began to sing and dance with a contagious sense of joy and liberation. Anyone with intolerant views on sexuality should meet these individuals and in a few minutes they would see their prejudices crumble. Among Arab youth are the most marginalized yet they are the largest and inspiring example of the strength of the human spirit. They shine while others are hiding. They beat the streets and talk about it without shame. They love, cry, fight, dance. They are the Life in all its forms. Don’t welcome them with open arms is disrespect for life itself. 13. And Mika

You're very welcome thanks for always being so kind with me And Happy Happy Happy Happy Birthday :hug:

Oh right! I forgot about that one, I have the file ready. I'll send you the corrections tonight so you can update the translations

All the translations are done, sorry in advance if there are careless mistakes.

Mika, the second day in Lebanon in the camps of refugees fleeing from the war in Syria and from Isis The singer and his journey in UNHCR refugee camps in Lebanon. Among children, families and life stories of everyday life: "Since we are here, our dreams have increased" By Mika 1. The welcome center The morning of the second day starts early, in Tripoli, north of Beirut, one of the four welcome centers of UNHCR in Lebanon. This is the first place where people, forced to flee their homes and their land, must register as a refugee in order to receive help and assistance. At first glance it is a distressing place: seven-meter high concrete walls and barbed wire on top surrounding the complex in an abandoned area near the city center. Every day the security guards, dressed in black, make enter through a hall full of barriers and fences around 1,000 refugees, mostly already pre-registered. Colored cards are distributed among the refugees according to their needs.At that point, the certificate of registration is checked and every detail biometric updated before it is lent any kind of advice or assistance. This long process is essential in order to be sure that everyone receives the right support and the help they need. This way they keep track of the number and conditions of the 1.1 million Syrian refugees living in Lebanon. These centers are the most important place in the life of a refugee. 2. The energy of the staff Came to the opening, I assist at the transformation of the center from a complex of bunkers sinister and empty as the set of a post-apocalyptic film, to a place full of life. The staff of UNHCR, composed largely of twenty years old Lebanese, works uninterruptedly from the moment they open the doors. Finally I start to grasp the meaning of a well structured administration, of the many hours of work and of the enormous need to raise funds so that each of these families receive support. Khaled, Lebanese volunteer of 28 years of the UNHCR has made me as a guide. 3. An individual assistance The families of refugees, coming to get assistance for the winter, are first conducted in a room close to the entrance, where children can be vaccinated, before the family proceeds to be assisted individually. Families wait all together, often in large groups, also of 16 people. The extended families but very united are quite common among Syrian refugees often where the brothers are five or six. Unable to restrain my curiosity, I start talking to any of them in the waiting room. I met the father of two children with his wife, owners of a small supermarket in Aleppo and of a house nearby. They had to leave when both buildings were hit by a barrel bomb. I then met a guy of 28 years along with his newborn baby. Owner of a car repair shop, he had to flee after a bombing which involved the building. Another young man, 22, from Homs, I met him while sitting in his wheelchair was waiting with his seven brothers, family and his young wife. All of them have had to leave their homes, again because of a barrel bomb, the same one that took away his legs. This guy told me that his only hope is to resettle in another country. He visits the welcome center on a regular basis to see if there is anything new about it. 4. The scan I met teachers, farmers and even computer engineers. They are people of different backgrounds and walks of life, but to my Western eyes, not at all accustomed to the abuses of war, appear identical in their desperation, with their clothes threadbare, faces contracted and the typical expressions of those who have been forced to abandon all they owned. My heart is conflicted whether to follow the individual stories that I'm listening to or the multitude of people I see. I look at what the hardships and losses erode the 'individual aspect. A farmer who has never been able to study is the same as a middle school teacher. United in adversity, they expect help. They wait. There are already four years. In the picture below, to a young Syrian refugee is scanned iris so that she and her family can receive the necessary support. 5. "We'll go in Britain, it will be a new life" Khaled leads me on to a staircase that leads to the first floor, where for the first time I can look beyond that concrete wall and see the fields and the suburbs of Tripoli. The light from up here is very different: the sun is bright and the cold winter breeze surrounds us while we wait outside a cabin where a family is receiving information. It is not only the light to be different. There is an air of excitement and there are careful smiles on the faces of everyone. Inside, they presented me Mohammed and his family to which two months ago was told that they would be re-established in Britain. They were considered very vulnerable for reasons that are not known to me. They do not know where they will be sent of precise and even know when. However their bags are made and are ready to go with a few hours notice. "We're going to be reborn," says the mother. "It's a new life and we thank God for giving us this opportunity." Their gratitude is palpable and the desire to finally integrate into British society is great. "We give six months from the day of our arrival until the day when we will speak fluent English. Our children will be English boys who come from Syria. " 6. "I had no choice, I was going to take to the sea" The war in Syria enters now in the fifth year and families who have been forced to flee to Lebanon and other nearby countries have exhausted their savings, have no longer any good, they are not allowed to work, have a hard time paying the bills and to give shelter to their children and send them to school. Many parents like Mohammed and his wife have accepted the idea that the future just as they had imagined is unfortunately gone; however they remain fiercely determined to ensure that the future of their children is full of opportunities, leading the promise of a better life. The "resettlment" in another country, through a formal program of resettlement, is the long term solution now hoped by many refugees. However, the places where they can establish are still limited and, for many, risking their lives to ensure the safety and the future of their families seems the only solution left. "Before we knew that we would be reintegrated, I was ready to leave for Turkey with my 10 year old son and then, from there, go to Greece with a boat," said Mohamed. "I had no choice, the situation was going to force me to risk." 7. Ahbed and "the nightmare of winter" From the Reception Centre, we head towards a tree lined street away from us about fifteen minutes. Hidden by a dozen of olive trees, there is an abandoned chicken farm. The building that is in disrepair has almost no walls and tin roof is largely collapsed. I am greeted by Ahbed (for security reasons we change its name), a Syrian of 40 years old. He shakes my hand and moving between piles of rubble, stagnant water and cables, leads me all the way up the first floor where, in a corner of the building, he, his wife and their five children live for two years now. Where living conditions are hardly essential. Collecting materials and bricks around, he has built walls to protect themselves in some way. The metal roof, however, does not retain water and there are no glass in the windows, only nets. There is no running water, electricity is scarce and there are no toilets. One piping water gets to a room where, in the corner, family cooks and washes. Ahbed has built a septic tank of fortune from another part of the building and a small furnace gas it is the only source of heating. "Our first winter here has been a nightmare," he explains, "it was raining in our room and the cold was dramatic. It was terrible. It seemed beyond all limits of endurance. For survival, the heat is as important as the food. If you were hungry, you would not be looking for a way to eat? " 8. Where do the aids go? The biggest problem in the refugee crisis is that, far from improving, the financial situation and their needs are getting worse. Buried under a mountain of debt, with savings now over, the refugees are becoming more and more dependent on aid of the UNHCR that is already underfunded by 50%. There is a financial abyss that if it's not filled by countries or private donors (corporations, major donors and the support of the general public) will continue to be powered only by the suffering. The winter and the challenges that entails further exasperate this absurd problem. Despite the living conditions, Ahbed must pay a monthly rent of $ 200. Despite having a wife and five children, two of whom are deaf and in need of care, he is not allowed to get a job. He receives financial support from UNHCR, $ 175 in cash, plus additional support in cash during the four winter months, to cover the costs for fuel and radiator. There are many more families in need that UNHCR is unable to help because of the drastic shortage in funding. 9. Playing hide and seek among the rubble I spent an hour and a half with Ahbed and his family, at least until the anxiety of the older son, seventeen and deaf, has forced us to stop early. Seeing him face such challenges, I asked to Ahbed what hopes he puts in the future. he admits that be able to integrate in Lebanon, obtaining the residence for him and his family is so unrealistic as a possible resettlement elsewhere. His only desire is to survive. They just have to wait and barely survive, so that when the door opens again and they can return home, they will be able to start again, rebuilding what they have lost. For now, they wait, no matter how long it will take. While we were in the breeding of chickens abandoned, a group of children was playing hide and seek among the rubble and clothes hanging, showed us the area. Many of them grew up in this place. 10. The family of Ahbed Ahbed with his family. The second from the left is his son Omar, completely devoid of hearing and unable from going to school. 11. Learn hygiene with puppets After greeting Ahbed, we go to Tripoli, in one of the communities supported by UNHCR. Upon my arrival there is an ongoing Christmas party. A puppet show was organized by volunteers. Two of these puppets teach younger children, many of whom live in settlements with no running water, the importance of personal hygiene. 12. The embroidery of the Christmas socks On the first floor a group of Syrian refugees are busy to sew Christmas socks and decorations. These are items that will be sold within two days at the fair organized by the local church and whose proceeds will be distributed in the community. 13. The dreams become bigger For the last meeting of my journey I come presented by Mireille Girard, representative of UNHCR in Lebanon, a group of girls and boys. It is the first ever youth group formed in this state and it's made up of Lebanese teenagers and Syrian refugees, with the aim of bridging the gap between the two communities fostering the integration and collaboration. In just two years these guys have stimulated the formation of dozens of other youth groups scattered throughout Lebanon which they are trying to get the same result. They come from different backgrounds but they all have the interest to continue their studies whilst continuing to work part-time. In this sense, Facebook has helped them in meet and help each other. Another of their main concerns is to tackle prejudice and negativity that Lebanese communities and Syrian refugees feel towards each other. 14. Resilience and tenderness The two words that are fixed in my mind, even after one week from my visit, are "resilience" and "tenderness". The resilience in front of impressive challenges and the human tenderness that a person must have to survive by keeping intact its own humanity. If you stiffen, you risk to break you under the blows of violence. This is the only way to fight terror. Resilience and tenderness together are the qualities most powerful of which man has. They are a cancer for terror and a comfort for those who lost so much.

Here the second reportage of Mika on Corriere Della Sera http://www.corriere.it/esteri/cards/mika-secondo-giorno-libano-campi-profughi-rifugiati-fuga-isis-guerra-siria/centro-accoglienza_principale.shtml# And here are the scans of the magazine with the same text

Tomorrow there will be the second part of Mika's column on Corriere Della Sera! I'll post the scans as soon as possible! I can revise the translations made with Google Translator of the cards and add the other translations of Mika's columns but you've to give me a bit of time (within the weekend) For the videos, the MFC Subs Team is working on them

Corriere della Sera has dedicated two pages about it on the magazine

Here you can find 13 cards with stories and pics about his project in Lebanon http://www.corriere.it/esteri/cards/mika-campi-profughi-libano-volti-storie-rifugiati-siriani/incontro-mustafa_principale.shtml

Mika con Unhcr tra i rifugiati siriani «In Libano per ascoltarne le storie» Mika, cantautore e high profile supporter dell’Agenzia Onu per i rifugiati, è tornato in Libano (dove è nato) per incontrare i profughi fuggiti da guerra in Siria e Isis. «Volevo aprire gli occhi, annullare le distanze. Niente poteva prepararmi a quello che ho visto» di Mika «Di dove sei?». Più passano gli anni e più questa semplicissima domanda che chiunque potrebbe farmi diventa una delle più complicate a cui rispondere. Non vengo da un solo posto in particolare e neppure incarno una sola cultura. La mia eredità è costituita dalla mitologia della mia famiglia, dei miei nonni e dei parenti le cui vite e culture non hanno quasi alcun rapporto con il mio vivere oggi. Mio nonno siriano che ha lasciato Damasco con tutti i suoi averi sul dorso di un asino, mia nonna libanese che ha incontrato il suo futuro marito quando lei aveva 16 anni e lui 58, mentre facevano sci d’acqua al largo della Corniche di Beirut; mia nonna inglese, una dolorosamente elegante «Figlia della Rivoluzione» di estrazione Wasp che ha sposato un persuasivo diplomatico nato a Savannah, in Georgia, per poi dare alla luce un figlio, mio padre, a Gerusalemme e crescerlo tra Il Cairo e Roma. Sono nato a Beirut durante la guerra civile nel 1983. Poco dopo, io e la mia famiglia siamo stati evacuati a Cipro e alla fine sono cresciuto in una comunità libanese a Parigi, dove la cultura e la mitologia del Libano aleggiavano nell’aria e hanno permeato ogni aspetto della nostra vita quotidiana. Ero un ragazzo che frequentava una scuola privata francese, avevo un aspetto americano, ma gli occhi libanesi e una casa libanese: dai tappeti sui pavimenti al cibo nei piatti, alle amicizie che i miei genitori avevano conservato. Un accento parigino e la mia pelle chiara mi avevano comunque permesso di vivere i primi anni della mia vita inconsapevole del senso di differenza culturale e ignaro della guerra e della distruzione da cui la nostra famiglia era fuggita. Fu il pessimo tempismo di uno dei viaggi di lavoro di mio padre a destabilizzare la nostra tranquillità familiare, cancellando quei piaceri infantili che fino ad allora erano stati un lusso. Essendo stato mandato per tre giorni in Kuwait, mio padre si trovò nel mezzo del conflitto della Prima Guerra del Golfo e fu tenuto in ostaggio nell’ambasciata americana per otto mesi. Per la prima volta toccai con mano come la guerra potesse essere crudele e come la distanza fisica da un conflitto lontano potesse ridurre l’empatia e isolare le persone coinvolte. Vivevamo due vite parallele: a scuola eravamo, io e i miei fratelli, bambini parigini, a casa invece eravamo in guerra e stavamo perdendo tutto quello che possedevamo. Mai più avrei dimenticato la sensazione di avere la vita sconvolta da qualcosa che non puoi controllare. Nella mia vita adulta la parte libanese del mio patrimonio culturale non è mai venuta meno. Nel 2008 ho tenuto per la prima volta un concerto a Beirut, in piazza dei Martiri, luogo tristemente noto per essere stato parte della Green Line, una «no man’s zone» che separava la parte est da quella ovest di Beirut durante la guerra. Da allora ci sono tornato molte altre volte, sentendomi orgogliosamente connesso al Libano e al tempo stesso orgoglioso di essere un immigrato, in tutto e per tutto simile a tanti altri nel mondo. Negli ultimi anni ho osservato da lontano lo svolgersi della crisi in Siria. Per alcuni giorni, poco prima di Natale, mi sono unito all’Unhcr per essere testimone diretto della crisi dei rifugiati siriani che si è sviluppata in Libano. È difficile immaginare come sia la vita per quel milione e centomila rifugiati, per gli operatori delle organizzazioni che hanno lo scopo di aiutarli e per i libanesi stessi che hanno aperto le porte delle loro case ai milioni di persone in fuga dalla distruzione e dal terrore. Volevo aprire gli occhi, umanizzare qualcosa che da lontano era diventato solo un dato statistico e una fonte di dibattito. Avevo bisogno di annullare le distanze. Niente avrebbe potuto prepararmi per quello che ho visto e per le storie che ho sentito. To see the second video, click here http://video.corriere.it/forza-tenerezza-storia-samir-gay-siriano-sfuggito-all-isis/38d7f7c6-afa4-11e5-98da-4d17ea8642a3 Translation Mika with UNHCR among the Syrian refugees "in Lebanon to hear their stories» Mika, songwriter and high profile supporter of the UN agency for refugees, he returned in Lebanon (where he was born) to meet the refugees who fled from the war in Syria and Isis. "I wanted to open my eyes, eliminate distances. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw, " "Where are you from?". More years pass and more this simple question that anyone could make me become one of the most complicated questions to answer. I don't come from one particular place and even embody only one culture. My heritage is made up of the mythology of my family, of my grandparents and relatives whose lives and cultures have almost no relationship with my life today. My grandfather Syrian who left Damascus with all his belongings on a donkey, my Lebanese grandmother that she met her future husband when she was 16 and he 58, while they were waterskiing off the coast of Corniche in Beirut; My English grandmother, a painfully stylish "Daughter of the Revolution" a Wasp who married a persuasive diplomat born in Savannah, Georgia, and then give birth to a son, my father, in Jerusalem, and raise him between Cairo and Rome. I was born in Beirut during the civil war in 1983. Soon after, I and my family we were evacuated to Cyprus and in the end I grew up in a Lebanese community in Paris, where the culture and mythology of Lebanon have floated in the air and permeated every aspect of our daily lives. I was a boy who attended a French private school, I looked American, but the eyes of Lebanese and a Lebanese house: from carpets on the floors to the food on the plates, to the friendships that my parents preserved. A Parisian accent and my skin clear anyway permitted me to live the first years of my life unaware about the sense of cultural difference and unaware about war and destruction from which our family had fled. It was the bad timing of one of the business trips of my father, to destabilize our family tranquility, deleting those childhood pleasures that until then had been a luxury. Having been sent for three days in Kuwait, my father found himself in the middle of the conflict of the First Gulf War and he was held hostage at the American embassy for eight months. For the first time I touched with hand how the war could be cruel and how the physical distance from a conflict very far could reduce empathy and isolate the people involved. We lived two parallel lives: at school we were, me and my brothers, children of Paris, at home instead we were at war and we were losing everything we owned. I never forgot the feeling of having life turned upside down by something you can not control. In my adult life the Lebanese part of my cultural heritage has never failed. In 2008 I held for the first time a concert in Beirut, on Martyrs' Square, a place notorious for being part of the Green Line, a "no man's zone" separating the east from the west of Beirut during the war. Since then I have returned many times, feeling proudly connected to Lebanon and at the same time proud to be an immigrant, in every way similar to many others in the world. In recent years I have watched from afar the unfolding of the crisis in Syria. For a few days, just before Christmas, I joined UNHCR to be a direct witness of the Syrian refugee crisis that has developed in Lebanon. It is hard to imagine what life is like for those million and one hundred thousand refugees, for the operators of the organizations that aim to help them and for the Lebanese themselves who opened the doors of their homes to the millions of people fleeing from destruction and terror. I wanted to open my eyes, humanize something that from a distance had become just a statistic and a source of discussion. I needed to eliminate distances. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw and the stories I've heard.

MIKA official ‏@mikasounds 31 dic 2015 HAPPY NEW YEAR everybody!!! XX MIKA official ‏@mikasounds 9h Hello from the USA https://www.instagram.com/p/_-j1CdTiLq/ My brother https://www.instagram.com/p/_-j9-WziL_/ My sister Zuleika back from running https://www.instagram.com/p/_-kEtBTiMl/ The full video thanks to Eriko MIKA official ‏@mikasounds 3 h Night night everyone and happy new year. Tomorrow I will be presenting on BBC Radio 2 #TheArtOfSong from 12pm UK time! @BBCRadio2 ️ MIKA official ‏@mikasounds 3 h You can listen in from anywhere in the world! BBC radio 2 online! @BBCRadio2 #TheArtOfSong MIKA official ‏@mikasounds 3 h Now... Bed X Snapchat And a little video https://twitter.com/MikaChuSnapchat/status/682733718411296768

A new article from Corriere della Sera. Tomorrow and the day after they'll publish some videos reportage about his visit in Lebanon http://www.corriere.it/esteri/15_dicembre_31/mika-visita-campi-profughi-libano-siria-guerra-isis-video-unhcr-051d64a8-af30-11e5-8a3c-8d66a63abc42.shtml Mika, ritorno in Libano tra i profughi «Qui per ascoltare le loro storie» Il cantautore e volto di X Factor ha visitato i campi profughi: domani e dopo, su Corriere.it, i suoi video reportage di Davide Casati È tornato in Libano, nel luogo dov’è nato e da cui la guerra l’aveva cacciato, 21 anni fa. Ed è tornato per incontrare chi, in Libano, arriva ora, in fuga da altri conflitti. Appena prima di Natale, Mika ha deciso di onorare il suo ruolo di supporter dell’UNHCR (l’Agenzia Onu per i rifugiati) visitando i campi dove si trovano gli 1,1 milioni di profughi siriani arrivati nel corso degli ultimi 4 anni. «Arrivato lì, ho continuato a fare domande. Volevo conoscere quelle persone, ascoltare le loro storie», spiega il cantautore e volto di X Factor: che racconterà quei volti e quelle storie domani e dopo sul sito del Corriere della Sera, con due video reportage accompagnati da foto e testi in esclusiva. Tra dolore e tenerezzaSono immagini che, spiega Mika, «traboccano di vita»: di dolore, tristezza, fatica; ma anche di tenerezza e forza. Dall’uomo che aveva un minimarket ad Aleppo e ora ha perso tutto, al giovane cui una bomba ha strappato una gamba e che ora sta ricostruendo la sua vita con la moglie, incontrata nel campo profughi. Da Sameer, che ha rischiato la morte per mano dell’Isis a causa della sua omosessualità, alla famiglia costretta a vivere in un vecchio pollaio, senza finestre né acqua corrente. Per loro UNHCR lavora ogni giorno; e per aiutarli, nel quinto inverno lontani dalle loro case, Mika presenta nei video il progetto Warm their hearts. «I rifugiati hanno bisogno di tutto: coperte, stufe, vestiti, fornelli», spiega l’Agenzia. Ogni contributo, per quanto piccolo, può fare la differenza (è possibile donare attraverso il sito www.unhcr.it): perché, racconta ancora Mika, «serve un lavoro immenso, per poter ridare a ognuna di queste persone la speranza di una nuova vita». Translation Mika, back in Lebanon among the refugees "Here, to listen their stories» The singer and the face of X Factor has visited the refugee camps: tomorrow and the day after on Corriere.it, his video reports He is back in Lebanon, in the place where he was born and from which the war had driven him out 21 years ago. And he returned to meet those who, in Lebanon, has now arrived, escaping from other conflicts. Just before Christmas, Mika has decided to honor his role as supporter of UNHCR (the UN agency for refugees) visiting areas where there are the 1.1 million Syrian refugees arrived over the past four years. "Once there, I continued to ask questions. I wanted to know those people, hear their stories" says the singer and the face of X Factor: who will talk about those stories and those faces tomorrow and the day after on the site of Corriere della Sera, with two video reports together with photos and texts in exclusive. Between pain and tenderness They are images that, says Mika, "are full of life": pain, sadness, fatigue; but also of tenderness and strength. From the man who had a small supermarket in Aleppo and now he has lost everything, to the young boy where a bomb tore a leg and he's now rebuilding his life with his wife, whom he met in the refugee camp. From Sameer, who risked death at the hands of the Isis because of his homosexuality, to the family forced to live in an old chicken coop, with no windows or running water. UNHCR works for them every day; and to help them, in the fifth winter far from their homes, Mika presents in the videos the project Warm Their hearts. "The refugees are in need of everything: blankets, stoves, clothes, stoves," says the Agency. Every contribution, however small, can make a difference (you can donate through the site www.unhcr.it): because, again Mika says, "It takes an immense work, to give to each of these people the hope of a new life".

British singer Mika meets Syrian refugees in Lebanon The Lebanese-born British singer Mika has returned to the nation of his birth with the UN Refugee Agency, the UNHCR. Mika was born in Beirut but left as a child during the Lebanese civil war to come to Europe. More than one million vulnerable refugees are living in camps in Lebanon, having been forced to flee their homes due to the ongoing conflict in Syria. The BBC's James Longman travelled with Mika to meet some of those affected. Video: http://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-35158994

Dalal Mawad @dalalmawad @mikasounds visiting UNHCR's office in #Beirut . Mika is now one of our goodwill ambassadors ! #refugees

From Mika's FB: Mika will be live on a special BBC News Facebook stream tomorrow morning at 0930 GMT to talk about his time with the ‪#‎UNHCR‬ and Syrian refugees. Head over to the BBC News page and 'like' to get an alert when the talk is live.... Don't forget to check the official page also http://rfg.ee/VHTx2 ‪#‎WarmTheirHearts‬ ‪#‎MyRefugeeStory‬ https://www.facebook.com/mikasounds/posts/10153409377708040

Khaled Kabbara ‏@khaled_kabbara 7 h MIKA met Abed & his family - living in an abandoned chicken farm; in very difficult conditions. #myrefugeestory Khaled Kabbara ‏@khaled_kabbara 5 h MIKA met with UNHCR's Youth Committee & commended their efforts in serving the community. #myrefugeestory

Mohamed Madi Twitter With @JamesAALongman and @stumac84 in Tripoli, northern Lebanon today #myrefugeestory #myrefugeestory @Refugees reception centre in Tripoli. It's filling up and it's not even 9am yet Strictly no money is involved in the refugee registration process #myrefugeestory @JamesAALongman live now in Tripoli, Lebanon #myrefugeestory #myrefugeestory Source:UNHCR Videos that James posted on Snapchat and Mohamed reposted on Twitter https://twitter.com/m_madi/status/678886604543406080 https://twitter.com/m_madi/status/678886710868971520 https://twitter.com/m_madi/status/678894105817014272 https://twitter.com/m_madi/status/678918026532511745 https://twitter.com/m_madi/status/678918881621073920 https://twitter.com/m_madi/status/678887771365240833

James Longman Twitter At the @Refugees centre in Tripoli. Almost more children here than adults. @mikasounds #myrefugeestory Video: https://twitter.com/JamesAALongman/status/678831756745682944 Message from @refugees centre in Tripoli from @mikasounds - also on https://t.co/IRLiew4e12 Video: https://twitter.com/JamesAALongman/status/678840700276879360 These children live here. A derelict chicken farm. Their father says "Without a stove, we'd freeze to death" https://twitter.com/JamesAALongman/status/678883317773570048 UNHCR Representative in Lebanon Mireille Girard message to world "Don't forget them" #myrefugeestory @mikasounds On Facebook: Refegees centre in Tripoli https://www.facebook.com/JamesLongmanBBC/videos/1707202776176546/

A new snapchat from James Longman

Thank you so much Eriko for your incredible work! As soon as I come back home i'll help you with all the materials