Back to School for Orphans of Sichuan

In the blistering sun they stood patiently, like a small battalion. Behind them China's flag flew at half-mast. One week after the tragedy, these children are becoming used to waiting: for help, for food, for parents who may not come.

Yesterday, at 2.28pm, Jiuzhou Camp school marked one week since Sichuan's devastating earthquake. As the country began three days of mourning with a three-minute observance, girls wiped their faces and stared at the ground; boys were swollen-eyed.

Nearby in the provincial capital Chengdu huge crowds chanted: "Go China." Across the country, horns and sirens blared in sorrow. Even rescuers halted their determined but increasingly hopeless toil.

Jiuzhou school did not exist until this morning. But with thousands of classrooms lying in rubble, and thousands of families still sheltering at Mianyang city's stadium, the authorities are trying to restore a routine and at least the appearance of normality for children.

Many are orphans; others have lost siblings. Some have been trapped beneath rubble and seen classmates die. A wall at the stadium is covered in their heart-shaped stickers, notes and drawings.

"I love my father. I love Sichuan," one has written in English. "I hope everyone stays calm," another has noted.

Further on are images of happier times: boats, trees and an elaborate drawing of an elementary school before the earthquake destroyed it. At the top of the building two small figures stand and wave.

Inside the stadium babies and toddlers are cared for under the wary eyes of police. The authorities are determined to ensure that all children are properly accounted for and will not reunite families without documentation.

"Already people [overseas] are saying they would be keen to adopt children orphaned by the quake," said Jon Bugge, of Save the Children. "In some cases it could be a good chance for a child to have a better future, but it's important it's not rushed, there's adequate documentation and the extended family has been traced. The best place for most children is with their families."

His team is traveling to China to help trace relatives and set up support services for children still overwhelmed by the week's events. Many of Jiuzhou's 2,000 pupils appeared to be struggling to deal with their first day.

"Find a friend you can love and care for," adult volunteers sang to them. The front rows took up the refrain and one boy sang like his life depended on it. But more mouthed along listlessly or stared in silence. Inside the vast marquee-cum-classroom, a chalkboard instructed: "The disaster is merciless, but human beings have love."

A young boy knitted his brow and glared, willing himself not to cry. A small girl in a flounced pink dress and yellow sandals with rosettes on the toes had the stare of a soldier freshly returned from the trenches.

"Some people say 'you mustn't touch the scar - their parents are dead', but we will ignore it and talk about something else. But there's a grieving process. Their parents are in their hearts," said Dr Ming He, a health ministry official who is an expert on crisis intervention. He is one of scores of trauma specialists from around the country who have arrived to help to train psychiatrists to treat these pupils.

The first issue is to assure their physical security and help them feel safe again, he said - easier said than done when aftershocks continue and the prospect of finding proper homes for families remains remote. The next is to create routine, with schoolwork and play, and then allow them to talk about their pain.

"Our job is to let them express their emotions, but in a controlled way, little by little," he said.

When so many are affected, targeting help is hard. But the extent of the devastation could also help the community to heal its children, he suggested.

"If other people have the same feelings and experiences, they're better able to understand that it's not just them and their feelings are normal. And when children play with other children and support them, that's very powerful."

Inside the marquee a tiny girl on the front row of chairs slipped an arm around a silent friend's waist and whispered into her ear. It was enough to win a gap-toothed, conspiratorial grin.

But Liu Ping was sombre as he watched them. His home town of Beichuan was wiped out by the shock. Hundreds of children lie among the dead.

"I feel very lucky - both my son and daughter are safe. We went to visit our relatives so we survived," he said. "But I feel for the others as I do for my own children. We are all one family now."