waste to large parts of Southern# Turkey and Northwestern Syria.
Tens of thousands of people were killed,# and recovery has been slow and agonizing,## especially in Syria, where more than a decade of# civil war had already made life nearly unbearable.
Leila Molana-Allen reports on how Syrians on both# sides of the border are struggling to survive.
LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN: In this small corner of# Northwest Syria, more than 6,000 people died## in last year's earthquakes, which# struck in the middle of the night.
But with few resources and all access to# the area controlled by Turkey and blocked## by the Assad regime, there's been limited# recovery.
Half-destroyed buildings still## loom.
Overwhelmed and underfunded medical teams# do what they can to help the injured rehabilitate.
Hamza al-Ahmad lay pinned beneath the rubble# of his home for 35 hours before local volunteer## rescuers, known as the White Helmets, managed# to dig him out alive.
He was one of the lucky## ones.
With the border closed, rescuers# had little equipment and no international## assistance.
So most Syrians who were buried# under collapsed buildings died waiting for help.
It was too late for Hamza's# parents and four brothers.
HAMZA AL-AHMAD (Injured and Displaced in# Earthquake) (through translator): I lost## that all my family had died.
My life# with my family was beautiful.
I had## a little brother.
We used to do# everything together.
But he died.
Now, whenever I see small child in the road, I# remember my little brother.
I miss him so much.
LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN: Hamza lost his leg from the# hip down and his arm is nearly paralyzed.
Now## he needs multiple surgeries he can't afford.# At just 15, Hamza is learning to live with## only half of his body fully functioning.
He# knows he's fortunate to have a prosthetic leg,## which cost hundreds of dollars and# which many others are still waiting for.
But the rudimentary model is# incredibly painful to use.
HAMZA AL-AHMAD (through# translator): Before my injuries,## I used to play f I can't fit the prosthetic rods.
It's# a prosthetic limb, and I'm not used to## it.
So I end up just using crutches.
I'm# trying to get used the limb, but it hurts.
LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN: Hamza's only# surviving brother, Abdul Hadi,## now cares for him.
There's no work,# but they have found a small room to## stay in.
The alternative is a life spent# under a thin tarp, like their neighbors.
Much of the worst-hit area remains in ruins.# With the economy already destroyed after 13## years of war, there's no money, and tight import# controls mean scant materials to rebuild with;## 800,000 people are still waiting to be rehoused.# They live in filthy, disease-rid en camps, wading## through freezing mud and breathing in a toxic# smoke from burning whatever they can to stay warm.
This isn't the first time Nofa and# Abdo's family has been displaced.## They fled the Idlib countryside after her son# was killed in a Russian airstrike.
Since t they have raised their three young# grandchildren, Jinan, Ufran and Ibrahim,## alone.
The town of Jindires wasn't home, but# at least they had a roof over their heads.
But when the earthquake hit,# that new home collapsed.
ABDO QUTAISH, Camp Resident (through# translator): Here in the camps,## it is if but we have no options.
Where do# we go?
Where should we escape?
LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN: Abdo recovered from his# injuries, but Nofa still can't move her legs.## They can barely afford to look after the kids,# let alone pay for the specialist care he needs.
NOFA QUTAISH, Camp Resident (through# translator): My husband helps me in## our daily life i because I cannot walk.
And if I want# to move, I crawl on my hands and feet The children are deprived of many# of their rights and want of clothes,## food and heating.
I wish they# could live a better life.
LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN: Drinking water is# scarce, while dirty rainwater floods## the alleyways in the freezing weather,# soaking everything inside the tent Even before the earthquake, most of the people# living in this beleaguered enclave needed## humanitarian aid to survive.
The huge influx of# donations and aid in the earthquake's aftermath## soon dried up.
The World Food Program is ending# its main Syria assistance program later this year.## And last year, the U.N.'s Syrian aid budget# only got a third of the funds that it needed.
The family has had no help in# months.
They feel forgotten.
ABDO QUTAISH (through translator):# International organizations should## come and see how earthquake ne eds we face.
We only dream of a life in# which we have a small portion of dignity.
LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN: Thousands of Syrian refugees## who had been living in Souther the border in its wake.
But conditions# for those who stayed aren't much better.
Antakya in far Southern Turkey was# leveled.
There's little left of this proud,## ancient city.
Far more reconstruction has# taken place on this side of the border,## but there's next to no help available for# Syrians.
The dust from building debris## here is so thick that it's very difficult# to breathe.
But just a few meters away,## dozens of Syrian refugees are living in the# middle of the rubble that used to be their homes.
When the earthquake struck Omar# Barakat's rundown tower block,## it fell within seconds.
Omar tried to rescue# his wife, Judy, and 2-year Taim, but couldn't lift the heavy# ceilings labs that crushed them.
OMAR BARAKAT, Syrian Refugee (through# translator): I tried to get them out,## but couldn't.
Taim staye and he didn't move at all.
I stayed# awake talking to them until 10:30 in## the morning.
I fell asleep and my wife# was alive.
I woke up and she was dead.
I started calling her name,# but she didn't make a sound.
LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN: They died next to# him, but his 3-year-old son, Ahmed,## had disappeared.
For weeks, Omar searched# hospitals across Southern Tu home had been destroyed and the rubble# cleared.
But there was no sign of Ahmed.
As thousands of other families searched for# missing loved ones, the Turkish forensics## unit tested a DNA sample and said Ahmed's body# hadn't been identified amongst those killed.
OMAR BARAKAT (through translator): They# told me maybe he got picked up by the## forklift that collects the rubble he's only little.
But I don't believe# it.
My heart believes that he's alive.
LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN: Omar is from# Aleppo.
Like many Syrians here,## his permit to be in Turkey has# now expired and the authorities# have cracked down.
But if Omar returns# to Syria, he risks arrest, or worse.
OMAR BARAKAT (through translator): I'm very# afraid, but if they want to deport me while## my son is missing, they would have to kill# me to get me t worse can they do to me now that I have lost my# precious boy?
My future is already long gone.
LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN: Shrouded in his# grief, he spends his days visiting## the site of his family's last moments,# comforted by mementos of his bu t against all odds, he's# determined Ahmed is alive.
And so he waits, hiding in this# tent bought on the black market,## surrounded by street after# street of crumbling masonry.
OMAR BARAKAT (through translator): I always# wake up in the middle of the night.
I go for## a walk.
I look at the destruction and think,# my LEILA MOLANA-ALLEN: A shattered life, one among# thousands.
Living through yet another nightmare,## Syrians on both sides of the border here# fear suffering is all they have left.
For the "PBS NewsHour," I'm Leila# Molana-Allen in Antakya, Southern Turkey.