Turning Point !

1092 words 4 Comments

A sound of two bullets!! Deadly silence covered our house!! I don’t exaggerate if I said this silence covered all of the city! My father came back with vague expressions on his face, I tried to understand his expressions and ask, but I didn’t find any explanation. What happened?

I noticed how my mother was worried, even her movement changed??. Finally, my mother said something “Guys go and wear the most beautiful clothes you have” then she add “Wear the most lovely thing for you”. Therefore I asked with wonder “why mommy?”. She didn’t answer!! So I said it louder. In a faint voice “We’re going to wedding and hurry up we have only one hour to get ready”. 

Mommy do you think I’m an idiot, I’m sure there something going on. I thought. I wore pajama to show my mother that I didn’t believe her and I sat on the ground to watch her wandered in the house as if she was taking her last breath out of it. I asked her ” Where’s my father” and the silence was her answer. 

Suddenly, my father’s voice is racing “Quickly to the car”. We went to the car and every single question I asked, the silence was its answer. Until we arrived to school!!!! so many families in the school!!! I was on the verge of madness. 

Before I tell you my dear reader what happened. Please do what I’m asking you to do. Do you yearn to your (family, house, work, neighbor, relatives, friends or even to place you have memories in it) when you leave them/it for days? Do you! If so, Please think of your feelings that time. Now think if you leave this thing you adore for years and years. Oh you might die and you didn’t even look at that thing again.

6-25-2012 I apologize to the readers if they like this month, day or year, because I aversion this day. I have mourning every year for my soul that died that day.

WE LEFT SYRIA …….  I’m typing it with broken heart, I’m typing it and my tears flow like a river, I’m typing it and I feel Syria calling me, I’m typing it and I feel I’m down, I’m typing it and I feel I betrayed my country, I’m typing it with all the regret, longing and nostalgia. I apologize to you my Syria, for living every minute away from you, I apologize and my heart filled by longing for the air, water, soil there. Forgive me, I didn’t die by bullets, I died of yearning.

We arrived to the school that I’ve never heard of. There were a lots of men who guide the people to across wide valley to get the Jordanian borders. We shared car (open from behind) with two families, on of them were from Homos and the other from Daraa. My mother’s head was on my little sister,but I could hear her crying and I was hugging  my brothers all the way until we reach rugged place, which’s the cars couldn’t pass it, therefore we have to walk 2 miles to get there. It was very rugged and tough way. Moreover my mother asthma so, she suffocated, and we even didn’t have water to give her some. I’m unable to describe the suffering at that day, walking under a hot sun and you’re almost boiling and without water. To the extent that made my mother decide to leave my little sister in the valley, because she can’t hold it anymore. Imagine a mother wanted to leave her daughter in valley, where nothing there except rocks and wolves. Overall we arrived the Jordanian border, men continued walking and women and childerns drove a jeep car to the camp. It was the second TURNING POINT …………….. Moving from a terrible situation in Syria to terrible camps in Jordan!!!

What terrible life is this????

We arrived to the camp 2.am. We have to live in room of 5*5 meters with three families (we were 17 people at tent), which’s no place to sleep. Bathrooms in third floor and si direty. Filled by diseases, particularly, lice and cholera. If I want to describe the camp;I need full day. We spent 3 days until we drag out. We rented in city called Iribd.

Are you wondering why we left Syria? I was like you until I got an answer from my father. He said “They wanted (army forces) to kill me as they killed Ahmed (his friend). My eyes filled tears as I glanced in my father “How, When, where, Why….”. My father cried front of me for the first time in my life, he turned around and said ” They went to his home at morning because they had news that he had weapons in his home and there wasn’t. consequently, to protect his life he hid in upper room( room most of Arab people have it in their homes to store food) and they searched the home and didn’t find weapons”. MY dad stopped and tears flow and in faint weak and painful voice said ” They burned the home and he was suffocating slowly, his wife and children broke the widow to help him. And… once he tried to get out they shot him by two bullets in his head”. I left the room because cannot believe that uncle Ahmed killed and still to this day I can’t believe and I’m sure if I went back I’ll find him.

In Jordan, I didn’t go to school for one year because we, Syrians, were no place for us in schools, but later on the let Syrians go to schools from 12 to 4 pm which is after Jordanians. Men couldn’t have work and if they did, either go to jail or back to Syria and lots and lots of struggles in Jordan…..

Syrians still struggling to this day, while we live safe there are so many people killed and arrested for example my uncle who disapeared to this day which’s 8 years … they still die, arrest, burn, kill Syrian people …….

My story is one of twenty-eight million Syrians and less damages than the other.

It will be written in history that SYRIA the most purify land it’s saturated with the blood of the innocent martyrs… I will be written how Syria demolished and how it will be build again by its sons. And eventually the criminal will get his punishement even after a while.

This is the last dismal post about my personal story :)

 

4 Comments

  • Sajeda,
    I don’t really know how the people can live that, and again. You are going to make me cry, these post are those that make me think for days, and make me cry inside. What else can I say besides that, every bad things, a good thing comes. And in your childhood, the death was like the sun, sometimes we can see it, and sometimes no, but it will always be there.

  • Oh, Sajeda, you made me cry again! Even though I kind of knew what was coming, hearing your specific details in your voice makes it just unbearable. The little line where you asked your mom, “Why, Mommy?” was heartbreaking because it made me remember how young and innocent you were. I loved the paragraph where you described your feelings as you left Syria, especially the way you talked directly to it as if you were apologizing for leaving. The pain your family must have felt as you had to deal with these atrocities and make these agonizing decisions is absolutely horrifying. You are incredibly resilient, and I love that you ended your story with hope that there will be justice and Syria will be rebuilt!

  • Sajeda,

    I am almost to moved by your words to write comments but I know I must because you have moved me so. I cannot imagine how hard it is for you to re-live those horrifying moments of hearing the shots and then finding out your uncle was killed. I cannot imagine how difficult it was to re-live that horrible march to Jordan and the pain and suffering of your family. Your writing is very powerful. The words that stood out to me the most were your description of the filthy toilet in the Jordanian camp and this phrase, “saturated with blood of the innocent martyrs.” You have told your story well– I have read each part– and let’s hope that humanity learns from your powerful words to never, ever let suffering like this happen again, especially to children and families.

  • Hello Sajeda,

    Today I received an email from Mrs. Mitchell sharing this amazing writing project with us. I, just like your teacher, am a teacher here in Dublin City Schools. I also have the honor of working with English learners and students who come from all over the world. Sajeda, even though I don’t know you personally, I feel like I got to know you after reading your story. You love your country so much like you should. I understand that pain of leaving parts of you in a place that shaped who you are. Continue carry Syria in your heart like you do. Continue loving it even if it means from the distance. Our past is our present. And Syria will always be a part of your personal story. You are brave and strong. What you went through with your family is very painful and most of us could never really understand what it is like to go through an experience like that. But because of writers like you Sajeda who are brave to share their story, we can become more understandings human beings…and that’s what you did for me today. You helped me become a better person, with more compassion and more understanding. Thank you Sajeda. What an honor was to read your writing today.

  • Wow. I have no words…..

    Sajeda, thank you for sharing your story. You wrote through much tears and relived much terrible pain. It helped me to better understand some of the horrible circumstances that bring some of our wonderful ELL students to Dublin. I am extremely happy to have them in Dublin and in my classes, (I am an ELL teacher at Sells MS.) but I wish it wasn’t because of life events like yours. Thank you again for sharing your story and keep writing. Words are power. Power to bring understanding, healing, connection, love. I hope your writing brings that for you.

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