Sonia Khush “driven by ending human suffering”

When humanitarian assistance pays off, dangerous risks are easier to take on, says Sonia Khush, a senior director for humanitarian response for Washington-based Save the Children. She cites Save the Children programs that allowed displaced Syrian children living in tents to return to classes or play in a new gymnasium.

“I go ahead because through all these emergencies, I’ve been able to see what a positive impact our programs have on children,” Khush says. “That’s very rewarding. I usually end up being willing to take the chance and go. But …there are probably places where I wouldn’t want to go.”

Khush, who recently returned from Liberia, has also spent time in Jordan and Lebanon working with Syrian refugees.

“You have to see what the needs of the people are and what you can deliver,” she says. “You have to think on your feet very quickly and, for me, I just enjoy that pace of work. We’re really driven by ending human suffering.”

It’s also necessary to pace the work, she says. Save the Children cycles workers out of troubled areas every six weeks.

Khush, who is single, says when someone doing the same work is kidnapped, “you keep thinking, ‘OK, I’m doing everything I possibly can to be safe.’ I know there’s a known element of risk. But I’m here for a reason.”

[USA Today]

If delivering humanitarian aid was easy, everybody would do it

There is a dizzying complexity to shaping a humanitarian response that is irresistible to American aid doctor Pranav Shetty, who lives with his wife, Nora, in Arlington, Va.

When he trained health care workers and treated patients at the height of the Ebola epidemic last August in Liberia, the local hospital system was in shambles.

He organized the delivery of medical supplies in northern Iraq after attacks by the Islamic State left areas isolated. At the time, refugees from the overrun city of Mosul were flooding into the area. His work brought him as close as a mile from an Islamic State checkpoint.

“Everybody wants to have an impact on the world,” says Shetty. “The greatest impact is not to go to the places everybody goes to. The greatest impact is to help the people that nobody wants to help.”

His wife, who also did humanitarian work, said she occasionally tries nudging him toward the lesser of two dangerous destinations. Nora Shetty successfully lobbied him to fight a deadly virus. “With Ebola, you have a bit more ability to protect your own safety,” she reasons.

She describes her husband, among the first people the International Medical Corps sends to crises, as someone who disdains complacency and is committed to always improving his disaster-relief skills.

“You want to be challenged,” he explains. “You don’t want the same thing every day. If it was easy, everybody would do it.”

[USA Today]

For humanitarian aid workers, global dangers have never been so real

These are spirited, grueling and perilous times for those trying to change the world. The risk of a gruesome death while serving humanitarian needs is frighteningly real.

“It’s a conscious choice and has to be a calculated choice,” says American aid doctor Pranav Shetty about heading into the world’s most dangerous places. Shetty, 33, is emergency health coordinator for the International Medical Corps based in Los Angeles. He has pivoted this past year between two headline-grabbing crises — the Ebola epidemic, and the conflicts in Syria and Iraq.

In West Africa, thousands have died, including half of the health workers who became infected with Ebola. In the Middle East, tens of millions have been displaced, and the Islamic State’s savagery has swallowed up aid workers like 26-year-old Kayla Mueller.

“There’s always a certain amount of the unknown,” Shetty says by phone from Sierra Leone, where Ebola remains a deadly risk. “Everybody is taught to be hyper-aware.”

Mueller’s death struck the humanitarian community particularly hard, in part, because she was a young, idealistic woman who encapsulated with her words the passion behind what aid workers do. “For as long as I live, I will not let this suffering be normal,” she told The Daily Courier in her hometown of Prescott, Ariz., about her work with refugees.

Mueller was kidnapped in 2013, a year when a record 460 aid workers were killed, wounded or kidnapped in dangerous places around the world, a 66% increase over 2012, according to data compiled by Humanitarian Outcomes, which provides research and policy advice to aid groups.

When a gruesome hostage killing posts to the Internet … the news reverberates through the aid community. “My first reaction is ‘Oh, my God, that could have been me,'” says Greg Matthews, 35, who has worked in the Syrian region for the New York-based International Rescue Committee. “That could happen to anybody at any time in any of the circumstances in which we work.”

Yet the challenge of providing relief in some of the world’s most chaotic environments, coupled with a lifelong desire to make a personal difference — and a restless hankering for adventure — keeps the humanitarian industry thriving.

[USA Today]