True story of a girl ; A Refugee ; (A Syrian Girl)

I was born in Moscow

At that time my father was working in Russia. Me, my parents and my little brother used to live there. Each summer, my mother, my brother and me used to travel to Syria to see our family and friends while my dad had to stay in Moscow for work. My father would join us for a week or two. Though I missed his company a lot, summer in Syria was amazing. I remember counting the days until summer vacation would start.

I remember my favorite thing was waking up early in the morning with all of my cousins (and there was a lot of us) to go picking apples. We would spend hours in the farm creating new games, playing cards and trying to cook for ourselves until the evening when we would all dress up and go for a walk. We would hear the music playing from the restaurants. We would dance, sing and take pictures. Still, the best part of summer was visiting our other cousins in Tartous. It was our favorite city because it was close to the sea and what is better than going to the beach with your whole family.

I was so happy even though the reason why we had to leave Russia was the financial crisis that happened in 2007-2008. My dad lost his job and we had no money left. To me that wasn’t an issue at that time.  I was born there and spoke Russian better than Arabic, 

So the day we moved was the greatest day ever. We bought a house in Damascus and I started going to school. My mom quickly found a job. My dad wasn’t with us. He had to stay in Russia to try and find another job and even though I missed him a lot and it was very hard without him, I still remember telling my mom that “Syria will forever and always be the best place on earth and that I never want to leave.”

My father, my idol

I love each and every one in in my family but my idol and the one I look up to the most is my dad. We have a very close relationship. I can tell him everything and ask him all kind of questions, he would never get mad.

I might sound crazy to people here in Europe but yes, my dad was put in prison when he was 18 years old just for reading books that were considered “illegal” in Syria. My dad is the most open minded, accepting and forgiving person I have ever met. He is scared of nothing and would do everything to stand up to what he believes in. He knows so much that sometimes I really wonder if there is something he doesn’t know.

While a lot of Syrian families are scared of questions and they live by the saying “the less you know, the better”, it was never like that in my house. My dad would talk to us about everything, he used to tell me stories about his experience in the dark walls of the prison, share his opinions about politics, religion and just life in general.

He never forced me to believe or do something that I didn’t agree with. His stories had a lot of impact on me, on the way I think and talk.

My mom and me have different dreams and hopes for the future

And then there is my mom. She is the most generous and beautiful human being I have ever met but she is the opposite of my father. Just like a lot of Syrians, my mom hates the political world and is very scared of it. We always argue about that.

One day, I will go back to Syria and help rebuild our country. When I tell my mother, she stays silent for a couple of minutes then she looks at me and replies: “You are very smart girl. Why do you want to ruin your future and end up in prison just like your dad? That world is very dangerous. why can’t you just become a doctor and help the sick?”

I understand she just says that because she cares so much about me. My mom and me have different dreams and hopes for the future. She has the most beautiful soul and the biggest heart I know.

We are very different and sadly, I will never be the girl she wants me to be and for sure not a doctor.“We take the best of the western culture and the best of the Arabic culture and mix them.

Leaving Syria

In 2011 my dad came back to Syria to join us. Living in Russia was very hard and he wanted to be with us. In 2013 my family and me had to leave Syria because the government was spying on us and especially on my dad.Knowing my dad, he couldn’t just sit and do nothing. He is a Christian Syrian. He used to go to pharmacies and buy all kind of medicine for injured people but even that wasn’t ok. He became a threat to us and since being around him started getting dangerous for us, he disappeared from our life’s hoping that they would stop following us everywhere. Unfortunately, once he left it got worse.

I started feeling their presence everywhere I went even though I never really saw them. I could tell that we were being followed, even to school.

One day they came to our home, scared us and broke everything we had. They told my mom that she had one week to find my dad otherwise we would have to face the consequences. My mom talked to my dad. We decided to leave. Of course, the war, the bombs all of that had to do with our decision to leave.

Syria just went from being the most welcoming country to being called the most dangerous place to live in.

The truck – I still miss the piece of the puzzle

Our journey from Syria  was long, scary and confusing. Long because it took us 7 or 8 days to travel . 

To be honest, I don’t remember very much of our journey . I think they put some tranquilizer in the water we drank. So we would just sleep the whole time.

I just remember once going out in the forest for some fresh air. I remember a lot of darkness. I don’t even remember how or what we ate. It’s like a missing piece of a puzzle that I can’t find. I have no idea of the countries that we passed through. I am just sure of 2 countries. I could have asked my father about it but I just don’t want to know or remember anything. I was and am still very thankful that I can barely remember anything. It is a painful part of my life. It was tough to move on from that. I still tell my parents “You put your children in a  situation. We could have died. How do you justify that?“ and they always say “It was safer than on the ground.” That is a powerful statement in my opinion. It takes a lot of courage to risk one’s life and the life of the people one loves. And it shows how bad the situation was.

 I had so many issues with myself, I didn’t care about the housing situation so much. To be honest, the first 6 months were not easy. I was dealing with a lot of personal problems. I felt lost, scared and confused

I was ashamed of my situation and of the fact that I lived in one small room in a camp with my parents and brother. I tried hard to hide that side of me and for a long time, my biggest wish was to fit in and not be just that Syrian refugee. I felt I was so much more than that.

Especially the word “refugee” bothered me a lot. In Syria we had refugees from Palestine and Iraq. They weren’t well treated or integrated. They lived in the streets, barely surviving.That was the idea I had of a refugee: a neglected poor person at the margin of society. When I became a refugee that was how I thought of myself Until I learned a lesson: if you are lucky enough to stand out why try so hard to fit in?

I learned the real meaning of the word refugee: a person who has been forced to leave its country in order to escape war. That was and is exactly what I am.

The war is not my fault so why hide who I am? I have so much to give to  society .......