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Bryn Mawr couple forms group to help Syrian refugees

Born in Syria and living in Bryn Mawr, Nizar Alkurdi grieves the tragedies of his homeland: Crude barrel bombs that kill and maim. Swathes of Syria under Islamic State control. The photograph of a refugee toddler lying drowned on the shore.

Renata Alkurdi of Narenj Tree Foundation, a Norristown-based charity, which is responding to the Syrian refugee crisis, folds a donated shirt destined for shipment to a Middle East refugee camp. (MICHAEL MATZA/Inquirer Staff)
Renata Alkurdi of Narenj Tree Foundation, a Norristown-based charity, which is responding to the Syrian refugee crisis, folds a donated shirt destined for shipment to a Middle East refugee camp. (MICHAEL MATZA/Inquirer Staff)Read more

Born in Syria and living in Bryn Mawr, Nizar Alkurdi grieves the tragedies of his homeland: Crude barrel bombs that kill and maim. Swathes of Syria under Islamic State control. The photograph of a refugee toddler lying drowned on the shore.

Published worldwide this month, the photo of the toddler became an instant icon of Syria's civil war and refugee crisis, which have displaced half the country's 22 million people. Similar to the Vietnam War-era photo of a girl running naked because napalm burned off her clothes, the powerful picture of this one dead boy seemed to cut through the noise.

But, in the context of savage injuries, even the tragedy of a drowned 3-year-old raised mixed feelings in Alkurdi.

"For us, as Syrians, we consider this boy a luxurious death," he said in an interview, "because he died in one piece."

Alkurdi then pulled out his cellphone, which carries photos of atrocities, and thumbed to one of a baby with a tracheotomy, and missing parts of all four limbs. "She is still alive," he said. "Imagine the pain she had."

Unwilling to let such misery just depress him, Alkurdi, 61, a retired limousine company owner who came to the United States in 1983, and his wife, Renata, 53, a Poland-born convert to Islam, who also lived for a time in Damascus, two years ago created the Narenj Tree Foundation, a little-known group named for the bittersweet orange found commonly in Damascus.

"We wanted a name that Syrian people would understand and American people would ask about," said Renata, who like her husband has U.S. citizenship.

Regarding the brutal photos on his telephone, which Nizar said some people find unseemly, he carries them as a reminder and reason to rededicate his commitment.

Based in a nondescript warehouse in Norristown, the charity collects used clothes, new school notebooks, personal hygiene products, and medical supplies, including walkers and canes. About once a month, it ships a jam-packed container to the crowded refugee camps in Turkey and Lebanon, and to Idlib, a part of northern Syria free from the fighting.

On a busy day of folding and sorting at the warehouse, which the Alkurdis rent at their own expense, they and an assorted cast of volunteers will pack about 50 corrugated boxes, each measuring 18x18x16 inches.

In addition to accepting donations every Saturday from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. at the warehouse at 101 Schuylkill Ave. in Norristown, the foundation maintains four clothing drop bins in the Philadelphia area: at the Gracious Center of Learning and Enrichment in Cherry Hill; Foundation for Islamic Education in Villanova; Al Aqsa Islamic Academy in Germantown; and the Islamic Academy of Delaware in Newark.

Although sparked by what is happening in Syria and across the Middle East, Narenj's supporters are not exclusively Arab or Muslim. A Jewish donor brought in a box of coats, said Renata. Christian supporters in Upper Darby collected donations through their YMCA.

"There is a Chinese couple so old they can barely walk, and they come here to pack boxes," she said. "Donations are coming like waves at us."

Estimating each shipment's value at $100,000, the nonprofit charity has provided about $2 million in aid since 2013.

"We would never have been able to send 20 containers in two years," said Renata, "if people were just sitting and crying."

On a recent day at the warehouse, Samar Bitar, 54, helped Renata sort through a mountain of donated shirts, blouses, pants, coats, and shoes. Bitar came to the United States from Damascus almost a year ago and lives in Wynnewood with her two sons. Her husband, a genetics professor, is still in Damascus.

As the women folded and kibitzed, Bitar painted a picture of contemporary life in Syria. There are safe pockets in regime-controlled Damascus, although there have been bombings there, too, she said, and desperate people from the more dangerous provinces have flooded into the city. In fact, her three siblings from hard-hit Aleppo moved into their mother's house in Damascus.

"But there are no young men," she said, because so many have left the country, fleeing to safety, or to avoid the nation's compulsory military service, which has become ever more critical to replenishing the forces of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad's embattled regime.

While sending old clothes might not seem to be of much value, said Renata, the textile value of the goods is significant, especially given the extra-large sizes worn by many Americans.

An enterprising Syrian tailor, she said, can repurpose a double-X garment into two, she said. And given that so many Syrian families had to leave everything behind, and "the biblical proportions of this catastrophe," there is a substantial need.

But among the items that she culled from a recent donation was a handful of men's ties.

"I'm not sending ties," she said. "I don't want anybody to hurt himself."

mmatza@phillynews.com

215-854-2541 @MichaelMatza1