By Colin Daileda
Photojournalist Magnus Wennman traveled around Europe and the Middle East, capturing these children of war as they tried to find some rest in a frightening, uncertain world.
Lamar, 5, sleeping on the ground in Horgos, Serbia.
Back home in Baghdad the dolls, the toy train, and the ball are left; Lamar often talks about these items when home is mentioned. The bomb changed everything. The family was on its way to buy food when it was dropped close to their house. It was not possible to live there anymore, says Lamar's grandmother, Sara. After two attempts to cross the sea from Turkey in a small, rubber boat they succeeded in coming here to Hungary's closed border. Now Lamar sleeps on a blanket in the forest, scared, frozen, and sad.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Abdullah, 5, sleeping outside a railway station in Belgrade, Serbia.
Abdullah has a blood disease. For the last two days he has been sleeping outside of the central station in Belgrade. He saw the killing of his sister in their home in Daraa. He is still in shock and has nightmares every night, says his mother. Abdullah is tired and is not healthy, but his mother does not have any money to buy medicine for him.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Abdul Karim Addo, 17, sleeping in Omonoia Square in Athens, Greece.
Abdul Karim Addo has no money left. He bought a ferry ticket to Athens with his last euros. Now he spends the night in Omonoia Square, where hundreds of refugees are arriving every day. Here smugglers are making big money arranging false passports as well as bus and plane tickets to people in flight - but Abdul Karin is not going anywhere. He is able to borrow a telephone and call home to his mother in Syria, but he is not able to tell her how bad things are. "She cries and is scared for my sake and I don't want to worry her more". He unfolds his blanket in the middle of the square and curls up in the fetal position. "I dream of two things: to sleep in a bed again and to hug my younger sister."
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Ahmad, 7, sleeping on the ground in Horgos, Hungary.
Even sleep is not a free zone; it is then that the terror replays. Ahmad was home when the bomb hit his family's house in Idlib. Shrapnel hit him in the head, but he survived. His younger brother did not. The family had lived with war as their nearest neighbor for several years, but without a home they had no choice. They were forced to flee. Now Ahmad lays among thousands of other refugees on the asphalt along the highway leading to Hungary's closed border. This is day 16 of their flight. The family has slept in bus shelters, on the road, and in the forest, explains Ahmad's father.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Ahmed, 6, sleeping on the ground in Horgos, Serbia.
It is after midnight when Ahmed falls asleep in the grass. The adults are still sitting around, formulating plans for how they are going to get out of Hungary without registering themselves with the authorities. Ahmed is six years old and carries his own bag over the long stretches that his family walks by foot. "He is brave and only cries sometimes in the evenings," says his uncle, who has taken care of Ahmed since his father was killed in their hometown Deir ez-Zor in northern Syria.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Fara, 2, asleep in Azraq, Jordan.
Fara loves soccer. Her dad tries to make balls for her by crumpling up anything he can find, but they don't last long. Every night he says goodnight to Fara and her big sister Tisam, 9, in the hope that tomorrow will bring them a proper ball to play with. All other dreams seem to be beyond his reach, but he is not giving up on this one.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Iman, 2, in a hospital bed in Azraq, Jordan.
Iman has pneumonia and a chest infection. This is her third day in this hospital bed. "She sleeps most of the time now. Normally she's a happy little girl, but now she's tired. She runs everywhere when she's well. She loves playing in the sand", says her mother Olah, 19.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Mahdi, 1, asleep on the ground in Horgos, Serbia.
Mahdi is one and one half years old. He has only experienced war and flight. He sleeps deeply despite the hundreds of refugees climbing around him. They are protesting against not being able to travel further through Hungary. On the other side of the border hundreds of police are standing. They have orders from the Primary Minister Viktor Orban to protect the border at every cost. The situation is becoming more desperate and the day after the photo is taken, the police use tear gas and water cannons on the refugees.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Maram, 8, in Amman, Jordan.
Maram had just come home from school when the rocket hit her house. A piece of the roof landed right on top of her. Her mother took her to a field hospital, and from there she was airlifted across the border to Jordan. Head trauma caused a brain hemorrhage. For the first 11 days, Maram was in a coma. She is now conscious, but has a broken jaw and can’t speak.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Mohammed, 13, in hospital in Nizip, Turkey.
Mohammed loves houses. Back home in Aleppo he used to enjoy walking around the city looking at them. Now many of his favorite buildings are gone, blown to pieces. Lying in his hospital bed he wonders whether he will ever fulfill his dream of becoming an architect. "The strangest thing about war is that you get used to feeling scared. I wouldn't have believed that", says Mohammed.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Ralia, 7 and Rahaf, 13, sleeping on the street in Beirut, Lebanon.
Ralia and Rahaf are from Damascus, where a grenade killed their mother and brother. Along with their father they have been sleeping rough for a year. They huddle close together on their cardboard boxes. Rahaf says she is scared of 'bad boys' at which Ralia starts crying.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Moyad, 5, in hospital in Amman, Jordan.
Moyad and his mother needed to buy flour to make a spinach pie. Hand in hand they were on their way to the market. They walked past a taxi in which someone had placed a bomb. Moyad's mother died instantly. The boy, who has been airlifted to Jordan, has shrapnel lodged in his head, back and pelvis.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Tamam, 5, in Azraq, Jordan.
Tamam is scared of her pillow. She cries every night at bedtime. The air raids on her hometown of Homs usually took place at night, and although she has been sleeping away from home for nearly two years now, she still doesn't realize that her pillow is not the source of danger.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Walaa, 5, in Dar-El-Ias.
Walaa wants to go home. She had her own room in Aleppo, she tells us. There, she never used to cry at bedtime. Here, in the refugee camp, she cries every night. Resting her head on the pillow is horrible, she says, because nighttime is horrible. That was when the attacks happened. By day, Walaa's mother often builds a little house out of pillows, to teach her that they are nothing to be afraid of.
Image: Magnus Wennman/Aftonbladet/Rex USA
Sham, 1, in Horgos, Serbia.
In the very front, just alongside the border between Serbia and Hungary by the 4-meter-high iron gate, Sham is laying in his mother's arms. Just a few decimeters behind them is the Europe they so desperately are trying to reach. Only one day before the last refugees were allowed through and taken by train to Austria. But Sham and his mother arrived too late, along with thousands of other refugees who now wait outside the closed Hungarian border.
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