Carey Mulligan taking part in a Can't Wait to Learn session in Uganda.

Around the World, Displaced Children are Falling Through the Cracks

Hear about our ambassador Carey Mulligan's experience visiting our programmes in Uganda.

On World Refugee Day it’s incumbent on us all to remember that the most vulnerable refugees are, of course, children - those who have lost not only their homes but so often their right to a childhood.   

At the Nakivale Refugee Welcome Centre in South West Uganda, conditions are dire. Families sleep on concrete floors in overcrowded, unsanitary spaces. One mother from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) I met during a visit last year with War Child, had fled with her eight children after enduring horrific trauma. Her children - ranging from toddlers to teens - were silent, fearful, and stuck in limbo.   
 
That’s what hits me every time. These children weren’t allowed to be children. None were playing. They were waiting. Their right to a childhood - safety, health, education, play - had been stripped away. Yet they had none of the agency of adulthood. So instead, they waited.  

A Child Friendly Space - a clean, safe area where children can play, learn, and simply be children - would have transformed everything for that family. It’s a simple concept with profound impact. It gives children a voice, a moment of normalcy, and gives parents critical time to take a breath, reach out for help and start the process of rebuilding their lives. 

Carey Mulligan taking part in a Can't Wait to Learn programme in Uganda.

The families I met made the urgent need to protect the rights of refugee children abundantly clear. From educational programmes to trauma therapy, and the stark realities of camp life, Uganda showed both the challenges and the incredible resilience of displaced children, and the teams supporting them.  
 
Uganda receives thousands of refugees every week from countries including the DRC, South Sudan, and Burundi. Many arrive as families, others as unaccompanied minors. In the face of such overwhelming need, organisations like War Child are working to restore what every child is entitled to: safety, dignity, education, and play.  
 
One of the most impactful initiatives I witnessed was Can’t Wait to Learn, a digital learning programme delivered by War Child to national and refugee children around the world. Students engage with tablets tailored to their literacy and numeracy levels. The result? Children so engrossed in their learning that they barely noticed our coming to observe their lesson. Teachers report significant improvements in both attendance and performance. Children are excited to learn. 
 
But while education is vital, it is more than just numbers and letters. The communities developed in the process of educating refugee children, as well as the creativity nurtured, and the sense of safety they provide, are equally essential. Watching children unwittingly receive trauma therapy while learning adjectives in one of the classes I witnessed was a powerful reminder of War Child’s specialist understanding of these vulnerable children’s needs.  

Carey Mulligan and Rob Williams with children in Uganda.

The recovery continued with Team Up, a group trauma-therapy programme using movement, music, and play. Here, children release fear and tension through expression and teamwork. The transformation of twin brothers - once silent and disengaged, now smiling and eliciting an occasional shout of joy - was a clear example of recovery being possible. These are not just educational tools and structures for play; they’re lifelines.  
 
Still, many children fall through the cracks. On a hillside above the Welcome Centre, I met three orphaned sisters, the eldest just 18, left to survive alone. After their tarp shelter was stolen, the oldest was raped. For eight months, they lived exposed on a hilltop. Hearing their story, I felt utterly helpless. How did they slip through the system so disastrously? I was told that major donors are shifting their focus, government aid is chasing headlines. All while the most vulnerable fall through the gaps.  
 
But when their story reached War Child, action followed. Within a day, the girls received medical care and began the process of being moved to safety and psychosocial support. My horror remained, but the helplessness didn’t. We can feel devastated, and then do something.  
 
These stories are heartbreaking, but they are motivating. They reveal the power of compassionate, effective action.  
 

Carey Mulligan in Uganda.

The recovery continued with Team Up, a group trauma-therapy programme using movement, music, and play. Here, children release fear and tension through expression and teamwork. The transformation of twin brothers - once silent and disengaged, now smiling and eliciting an occasional shout of joy - was a clear example of recovery being possible. These are not just educational tools and structures for play; they’re lifelines.  
 
Still, many children fall through the cracks. On a hillside above the Welcome Centre, I met three orphaned sisters, the eldest just 18, left to survive alone. After their tarp shelter was stolen, the oldest was raped. For eight months, they lived exposed on a hilltop. Hearing their story, I felt utterly helpless. How did they slip through the system so disastrously? I was told that major donors are shifting their focus, government aid is chasing headlines. All while the most vulnerable fall through the gaps.  
 
But when their story reached War Child, action followed. Within a day, the girls received medical care and began the process of being moved to safety and psychosocial support. My horror remained, but the helplessness didn’t. We can feel devastated, and then do something.  
 
These stories are heartbreaking, but they are motivating. They reveal the power of compassionate, effective action.