Four million children are caught up in the war in Syria. Thirteen-year-old Rabia is one of them. Tall and thin, she sits shaking in a yellow T-shirt at the Al Marj settlement, close to the Lebanese-Syrian border.  Home for Rabia was once a two-story house near Damascus. Now it is a tent shared with her nine family members. Rabia’s face is covered with dirt, and she is tired and cold. She has just finished work, picking up potatoes that fell from a truck. Her typical day starts at 4 a.m., and she works a double shift that lasts about 16 hours, putting potatoes into bags. The only choice for her is that she can choose the first eight hours or the second eight hours. For this, she gets paid about $8 a day. Working means Rabia misses school. Back in her village, she was the best in her class and good at everything. Her favorite subjects were Arabic literature and math. But, like many children now living in the settlements—there are no official refugee （难民）camps in Lebanon —that was Rabia’s old life. Life before war, before her family moved five times to escape the bombs, before leaving behind her bedroom, her toys and her friends without packing a bag, before “half the people I know”were dead. The old life was full of laughter with her sister, Wala. But Wala, 14, got married two days ago to an 18-year-old Lebanese. Rabia is happy for her sister. Life in the settlement is tough— the children have nowhere to play, the bathing is poor and sexual abuse is out of control. You can’t blame parents —often confused, illiterate （不识字的）and poor—who want to marry off their daughters. They fear for their safety. Increasing numbers of Rabia’s girlfriends are getting married. Once in rural Syria, a girl got married at 16. According to UNICEF, the age is now dropping to 12 or 13. It is no secret that Lebanese men want to marry Syrian refugee girls, who work hard and don’t ask for anything. 小题1:Where is the passage most likely to have been taken from?
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