To the Women of the Refuge

To the women who risked their lives in order to find refuge...

This is for the woman I met, wearing a child on each arm; trying to shelter them from harm as she got sprayed by tear gas and beaten by wooden sticks in Hungary. Comforting them with soothing words as she braved torture, agony, and pain in order to get her children to refuge. Persistent in her belief in the right to asylum. Resilient in her determination for safety and a new life. Resolute in her decision to cross the border. She was not going to give up. Her children were going to get the chance at a new life. And they did. This is for you.

This is for the woman I met that was jailed by Hungarian police with her two new-born babies. Ridiculed and laughed at by the guards when she asked for milk for her children. Told that they were not worth Hungarian milk because they were savages who did not deserve to step foot on Hungarian soil. Bruised by the cup of water that was thrown in her direction, was this supposed to be sufficient enough to feed her starving children? Lied to by those sworn in to protect, rather than exploit, "if you give us X amount of money, we will let you out- you will still get stopped on the way, but not by us". Spat at by those who thought that she was lesser than them because of the blood in her veins or the colour of her skin or the fabric on her head. To the woman who managed to escape prison after travelling alone with her two children, Noora and Hamada. To the woman who ended up in a refugee camp in Germany.

This is for the woman I met who travelled all the way from Syria, by herself amongst 11 men; and yet, was the strongest of them all. Presenting herself as a true leader. Someone with rationale, resilience, determination, wisdom, and belief. Approaching the ticket counter knowing exactly what she wanted from me, where she wanted to go, and who she wanted to be. Believing that although she was the only girl amongst a plethora of men she did not know, she was brave enough to handle herself. She trusted in her capabilities. She was not shy. She was not hesitant. She was not ready to let her chance at safety slip through her fingers because of her gender. She was not inferior.

This is for the woman I met, fighting for clothes for her sons, daughters and husband as they slept away their trauma. Standing in line with her worn out dishdasha, and ragged hijab. Refusing to rest until she provided for her family. Yelling the sizes, the colours, and the items they needed. Stepping on her pride in order to get what she needed. Refusing to back down until she reached her goals. Not willing to accept lesser than she deserved, "this is too big" she said; "this is not thick enough" she sighed; "please try again" she begged. Not giving up.

This is for the woman I met who was crying. Crying on the bottom of the stair case of Platform 9 refusing to tell me what was wrong- she was strong enough to deal with everything up until this point, why would she choose to rely on someone now? Why trust me to carry her burdens when she carried them herself every second of every day? Why let herself be portrayed as weak and incapable? She was perfectly capable. She could handle herself. She just needed a minute. A break. But she would come back from it. And she would come back stronger than before.

This is for the woman I met who sang. Who sang and sang and sang. And when she was not singing, she was dancing. And she didn't care who saw. She sang about everything, from something as simple as the coffee she made, to the complexities of the country she once called home. She would sing to us about her purple couch and her Persian rugs. She would tell us of her nieces and nephews who loved to listen to her voice. And she would dance traditional Kurdish dances once we played anything with a rhythm on the radio. She would make us laugh. And when we weren't laughing, we were smiling because we knew we would hear her voice again soon.

This is to the women. The strongest women I have ever and will ever meet. The women who braved the most horrifying conditions because they knew what they wanted and were determined to achieve it. This is to the Women of the Refuge. Happy International Women's Day.

"If I Wanted to Get Beaten by Men in Uniforms I Would've Stayed in Syria"

This is a story of one of the refugee families I worked with in Vienna at Train of Hope this summer.

Noor (age 2) and Hamoudi (age 7) are the children of Ahmed and Rana*, a family from Syria. They decided to leave Syria after their families had either fled themselves, or had been killed in the current civil war plaguing the country. The family decided to take the route most Syrians and Iraqis had taken; they were trafficked into Turkey in the back of a cramped truck. Once having arrived in Turkey, they were instructed to dispose of their paper work and passports by traffickers, as this was said to make the asylum process a significant amount easier. They then spent a large percentage of their life savings on the journey. They were put into a small, unstable, plastic boat; the women and children moved towards the center of the boat, while the men surrounded them on the outside. They said that the boat almost capsized multiple times on the journey to Greece. Upon arriving in Greece, they embraced the land as if they had never seen such comfort in their lives. Ahmed told me that he spent about 15 minutes prostrated thanking God that they made it. This, however, was not the end of their journey. They still had to trek through three countries mainly on foot; Macedonia, Serbia and Hungary. Throughout the journey, they had little to no access to any hygiene products or opportunities; their backpacks and supplies had been thrown off the boat by traffickers, and their were no places they could refresh themselves at. They resulted to taking baths in any bodies of water they could find; seas, lakes, rivers. Anything. During the days where they were tired, they spent the day at coffee shops buying just enough to stay there. Eventually they reached Hungary. There, they were jailed and abused by the Hungarian authorities. Ahmed showed me the bruises from where they had beaten him. Rana told me how she would beg the authorities for just a glass of water to give to her children; she told me how they would laugh and spit in her face in response to this. She told me about how they ended up beating her as well, and while this was happening, the only thing she would scream is “Take me back to Syria, even war is better than this! If I wanted to get beaten by men in uniforms I would've stayed in Syria!” They eventually let them out, only after forcing them to register, and this was only because they had no room left in the jail cells. They then proceeded to take a train from the Austro-Hungarian border into Vienna, where I met them. It was a day where we received around 500 refugees at Train of Hope in Hauptbahnhof Wien. Throughout all the chaos, I made eye contact with Rana, who looked distressed, confused, exhuasted and quite frankly, like she was about to burst into tears. In her arms, I saw Noor, and next to them I saw Ahmed and Hamoudi. I felt drawn to them in a way I will never be able to put into words. I immediately dropped what I was doing, and walked towards them. “Kil shy tamam? Tahtajoon shy?” (Is everything ok? Do you need anything?) I asked. At first, they were too shy and prideful to give an answer, but after me pestering them for a while, they finally explained that they were hungry and needed some fresh clothes and medical attention for Noor, who was ill. Upon hearing their requests, I immediately catered to their needs. After getting them all that they needed, and translating for the doctors who took a look at Noor, who was not only ill, but had a diaper rash that made the poor girl insufferable, I was dragged to the playpin by the two children. We played with the stuffed animals while their mother recounted their experiences to me as if she'd known me for her whole life. She told me about her life, about her relationship, and her children. She said she felt like I was her sister. At first, Ahmed was skeptical, but after a couple of hours, he opened up in the same way. I spent two days with the family, translating legal advice, advising, talking to the parents, and playing with the children. This was the first and only family I became truly attached to. On their last night in Vienna, they spent some of their money to invite me for a “thank you” drink. We bonded over that drink, as they asked about my studies, my life, and my family. They talked to me about Syria while Noor sat on my lap and played with her toys and Hamoudi recounted his favorite shows to me in excruciating detail. I still keep in contact with the family, Ahmed texted me just the other day wishing me a happy Eid. He also let me know that him and Hamoudi have made it to Belgium, got their papers processed and are now integrating into society- they now have an apartment, Ahmed is in language courses, and Hamoudi is in school.

*name has been changed for security reasons.

Introduction of the Gaza Series: No More Silence

"A Palestinian boy walks past a drawing by British graffiti artist Banksy, along part of the controversial Israeli barrier near the Kalandia checkpoint."


Recently, I have had the pleasure of getting into contact with a few people currently living in the blockaded Gaza strip of Palestine. This 139 mile-squared piece of land is enclosed by Israel and Egypt, and is unfortunately subject to the trapping of its people by the two countries, forming the largest open air prison in the world. The population density of Gaza exceeds 13,000 people per square mile, equating to a population of well over a million imprisoned Palestinians with nowhere else to go. Gaza has been subject to Israeli military occupation since 1967, and has faced similar conditions at the hands of Egypt before that. Currently, Israel practices indirect external control over Gaza by "controlling Gaza's air and maritime space, control of six of Gaza's seven land crossings (the seventh is controlled by Egypt), reserving the right to reenter Gaza at will through regular military incursions, maintaining a no-go buffer zone within the Gaza territory, and maintaining Gaza's dependence on Israel for trade, water, sewage, electricity, currency, communication networks, issuing IDs, and permits to enter and leave the territory and the Palestinian Population Registry." These conditions, along with the lack of international intervention, awareness, and pressure, have suffocated Gazans, and have subjugated over a million people to life in horrifying conditions; without sufficient access to basic human needs such as water, food, electricity, movement, healthcare, education and dignity.

Unfortunately, these aspects of life in Gaza have been widely accepted as an inevitable, yet unfortunate, consequence of Israel's "justified" right to exist. Others have attempted to rationalize Israel's inhumane derogatory treatment of Palestinians by shifting them all under the umbrella'd label of "Hamas terrorists"; a highly, highly flawed argument considering Hamas was formed after Israeli occupation of Palestinian territories, expulsion of Palestinian natives, and terrorist attacks against those who refused to leave their homes. What also fails to be considered by pro-Israeli analysists is the documented, widespread lack of support for Hamas among Palestinians themselves. However, these aspects of the conflict don't seem to appeal to many. Politics has cheapened the value of Palestinian life; it has attempted to justify mistreatment, torture, murder, and inhumanity. As a result of this widespread desensitization to the issue, as well as a constant influx of excuses for this desensitization, e.i "we can't do anything about it, so what's the point of talking about it" or "both sides are guilty" or "it's too complicated" etc., I, along with the amazingly brave, influential, inspiring people of Gaza, specifically Sayel Al Wahidi, have decided to begin a Gaza series.

This series will be based on submissions of pictures, stories, and injustices which occur daily in the occupied, suffocated, imprisoned lands of Gaza. This series will attempt to illustrate the extent of the humanitarian crisis inflicted on the populous of Gaza. This series will show you what Gazans have suffered under for decades. This series will explain to you why the excuses formulated by politicians, as well as pro-Israeli lobbies, are insufficient. This series will show you why this is illegal and not justified. This series will humanize you. This series is one of Gaza's many voices.

"طلعت ريحتكم" You Stink

"We’re in the midst of a political, environmental and social crisis in Lebanon. Allow me to begin with the most obvious and explicit issue; the subject of garbage/waste management.


The issue is actually quite simple; Sukleen, the "privatized" company that manages the waste of Beirut and the Mount Lebanon province (Jabal Lebnen) has been dumping rubbish in a landfill in the Naameh countryside, south of Beirut. The landfill was due to close many years ago, in 2004 actually. But the government kept postponing the deadline allowing Sukleen to continue to fill the landfill well over its initial capacity. Weeks ago, the Naameh residents, decided that it was enough and that the landfill should be closed for good, rather than wait for the government to allow its deadline to be postponed again. In fact, they stopped Sukleen trucks the day of the legally contracted deadline, so technically, nothing illegal was done. On the contrary, they were merely enforcing the law.


The government knew about this deadline, they were the ones who made the contract with the private (no so private) Sukleen company. However, they’ve done absolutely nothing to prevent the current crisis. So, logically, Sukleen stopped collecting the garbage because it had nowhere to dump it. As a result, the narrow streets of Beirut were quickly drowning in rubbish, suffocating the already nonexistent side walks (Lebanon is not very pedestrian friendly).

Thursday, while Beirut's citizens were breathing hazardous waste, smoke and fumes (due to the burning of rubbish by angry civilians), the government was arguing over another political and sectarian crisis. They basically discussed their version of a crisis for ten minutes, and at the end of their meeting they decided they'd had enough for for the day, leading to the decision to postpone discussing the rubbish issue and its solution to Tuesday. The people living of Beirut had to wait another 5 days in the growing sea of rubbish, that now drowned the capital. The government acted as though it was the least of their worries. Some citizens decided they'd had enough and were tired of this, so they accordingly organised a protest centered around the slogan "طلعت ريحتكم", basically translating to "Your Stench is Revealed" or "You Stink" the upcoming Saturday.


The movement had no political backing, was non-partisan and was based solely on the needs of the people. It had one simple demand: that the government do its job. But we didn’t want any new landfills that were dangerous for the people, we wanted a real solution; a green and environmental solution, one that we could be proud of. It was an anti-government protest, combined with a pro-green and environment twist. We don’t want our waste to simply be dumped in the poorer areas of Lebanon.

The protest wasn’t huge, but its existence was highly important, it was truly representative of those living in Lebanon; Lebanese and foreigner alike. It showed that we were tired of the sectarian government, and its passivity over the simplest of issues. The garbage on the streets was quite frankly representative of the government. Their uselessness was represented in our streets.


That day we expressed our anger and frustration, which we had every right to do. The organizers of the protest also invited green advocate and NGO president of T.E.R.R.E Liban, Paul Abi Rached, to explain how the government overlooked the issue and the solution him and dozens of other activists brought upon the last government. He also stressed about how easy the solution was and how reparation of garbage at the source was important. We immediately threw our plastic bottles in one bag and tissues in another bag; we began separating our rubbish. A change was happening in regards to our bad environmental habits.


Shortly after, news came that the mayor of Beirut had “found” a "solution" to the garbage crisis in Beirut, which meant that the rubbish would be moved as soon as Sunday. We knew at the protest that it was a trap, we simply didn’t want any new landfills. Sukleen did remove the garbage the Sunday from some neighborhoods, but when they got near the designated locations of the new landfills, guess what? Nobody wanted Beirut's garbage, and rightly so. The new landfills located near Jiyeh (between Saida and Beirut), were accepted by the mayor but not the people; an apparent trend in the realm of Lebanese politics. The highway towards the Lebanese south was blocked for several hours on Sunday and Monday to protest the matter. On Tuesday, well before dawn, Activists of "طلعت ريحتكم" followed Sukleen trucks and caught them dumping the garbage in the Beirut river! Government sanctioned landfills were suddenly appearing all over the country and people turned towards social media tocondemn the practice. Pictures were sent, videos were posted, blogposts were written. People were angry.


The government had unsurprisingly postponed the Tuesday meeting (mostly because they didn’t agree on their sectarian problems) but protesters were there, showing our non-partisanship, demanding again that the government do its job. We didn’t identify with the 8 March or the 14 March coalitions, in fact, we wanted them to leave. A lot of chants were present, chants that condemned Solidere, the company that killed Beirut's heritage, tied to Hariri and therefore to Sukleen. Why were the upscale neighborhoods of Solidere clean when the other neighborhoods (with much more people) still dirty?


We spontaneously blocked several roads toward the Martyrs Sqare and created a lot of congestion. Some people may criticize this and they have every right to do so, but the protests were peaceful, and it was to show the authorities that a few hundred people in Beirut was enough to disturb the status quo. We don’t need a political “leader” to back us blocking roads.


We decided to march towards Hamra after a lively debate among ourselves, yes, some shouted at others, but the majority decided that marching to Hamra, and other parts of Beruit, was better than staying in the Downtown area. This was especially due to the fact that not many people lived in that area, besides basically the 1%. We truly demonstrated that we were a democratic movement. More democratic, at least, than the parliament that decided to extend their mandate twice, without asking the Lebanese people if they liked the decision or not!


And then, with that, another episode was unfolding; one that revealed the true coercive status of the Lebanese politicians. While we were marching towards the interior ministry and the ministry of the environment, some protesters dared to attack what looked like a politician's car. It was the car of Minister Derbas, the social affairs minister. The media is reducing the affair to 4 people; Bilal, Ihab, Tarek and Firas, however many more were involved by blocking the car and throwing rubbish on it. We were harmless, just angry. Tarek was arrested as a result. I don’t remember if Tarek were arrested on the spot, but his name was already circulating in the media just after the protest and the long march that led us towards Riad el Soloh. I left before Firas, Ihab and Bilal were arrested, much later in the night.


Quickly news emerged about how Tarek Mallah already had a judicial history with Minister Derbas, and the stories of Ihab and Bilal demonstrated this. They were arrested not only because they dared to touch a minister car, but were interrogated on Tarek. The story of Tarek is simple, he is an orphan who spent more than 13 years of his life in Dar el Fatwa orphanage, a Muslim organization. There he was raped and reported this. Minister Derbas overlooked the case. So as a result Tarek Mallah sponsored a case against Derbas legally, with no outcome.


What followed were two days of pressure. Bilal and Ihab were released Wednesday, Firas, and Tarek Friday. Bilal and Ihab described how they were psychologically harassed by the anti-terrorism forces. They were forced to strip down in front of each other and were put in black masks as if they were some IS members. They were also put under pressure to denounce Tarek Mallah, clearly from orders of Derbas. This just proves how easy it is for any minister to use coercive force. Derbas is officially “independent” in the government. But that doesn’t make him any better than other coalitions minister.


We decided to reorganize ourselves and to plan something bigger. Our goal is to stop the plan that says Sukleen must be divided between different industrialists in the basis of sects. We want the government to at least care about the environment. Our group is representative of a large spectrum of ideologies; Marxists, leftists, liberals etc. We don’t have a single ideology that represents us but we have the same goal, that the government does its job regarding the environment and that it should be held responsible and transparent over the current crisis. We’re not unambitious, we’re just focusing our energy in the first step, and I hope, towards bigger goals." - Hassan, 22

Its Your Name on the Line Not Mine

"This is the tragic story of a friend of mine, around the age of 15 living in Najaf, Iraq.
In Iraq, especially in the city of Najaf, we don't possess this concept of casually talking to boys as friends, if we do take part in something like that, we are subject to shunning, discrimination and denunciation by our families. It's simply not done. This phenomena became more and more strict after the 2003 invasion, when Iraq, once secular, was drowned by a veil of religious sectarianism as a form of identity. At this time it is not and it was not seen as okay for a women and a man to talk without the permission of their parents, or the intention of getting married.

This friend of mine, let's refer to her as Sara. Sara somehow managed to get hold of a boy's number, she never told us how or why, but she managed to do it regardless. They would text daily, and since we in Iraq use credit as a method of making calls, he would send her credit to text him or call him. However, they would never physically meet.

One day, two or three weeks after they started talking, he told her to meet him on a side road a near enough to her house to know where it was, but far enough from it so that her family would not know what was going on. And because the general society of Iraq became increasingly restraining on women, due to the dangers of war and terrorist threats, women posses this craving of rebellion against that 'imprisonment'. So she did it. She wanted to see what she was missing out on. Because this girl hasn't had contact with other males, or taught about the dangers that come with meeting males alone, rape or assault, she did it. All these subjects are taboo in Najaf, so she thought 'what's the worst that could happen?' and went ahead with meeting him.

He met up with her, making her feel all empowered and in control of herself; finally being able to be "free". They went around in his car, driving around Najaf, along the river; all the while she felt happy and content. He then took her to his house-not his house, sorry, a random empty building. I'm not sure which one, or where, but it was an empty building. You can all guess what happened next. Yes, he raped her. He didn't leave her there though, he took her back to her home (as if that made it any better) and told her not to tell anyone because in the end if she did, it would be her name that would be shamed not his.

Sara was traumatized, she did not know what had just happened to her. All she knew was that she was in immense pain and agony. She was not aware of the safety precautions to be taken, and she was not aware that she had basically been sexually assaulted and abused. And even if she were, it wouldn't make a difference because the blame would be placed on her for being 'stupid enough to have contact with men'.

Her parents eventually found out, and instead of being comforting and assuring the poor girl that it was not her fault, and that they would protect her, they shunned her. They were more concerned with their place in and how they were seen by society to even make an effort to do anything except tell her how she had disgraced the family. Sara was not allowed to continue her education and was forcefully married off at the age of 15 to a man much older than her.

I'm telling this story because Sara is one of many women that have suffered the same fate. I'm not saying that women should go around naked hanging out and hooking up with random men all the time, I'm saying that restraining women to this extent is dangerous for the women. We think we are protecting them but in reality, were only subjecting them to further pain and discrimination. It's easy to look past these issues and claim them as simply a side effect of war, but we shouldn't. These women are oppressed, and not just the western version of the word. This is a subject which is constantly avoided when Middle Easterners discuss their countries and this should not be the case any longer." - Anonymous, Iraq

"We Spent Months on Candle Lights"

    I was able to conduct an interview with a man from Aleppo in Syria; a city that has been one of the biggest battlegrounds since the start of the revolution. These do not represent the political views of the blog, I am merely the messenger.

     

     "

     1) How did you feel at the start of the revolution?

From the very beginning I did not fall for the fake calls of freedom and democracy promoted from the dens of “authoritarianism” and “backwardness”; the Gulf states, such as Qatar and Saudi, who fund the likes of Aljazeera and Al-Arabiya, were vigorously optimistic about the concept of ‘the Arab spring’ while these countries, themselves, have the most dictatorial regimes in the whole world. Syria, as any other country in the world, suffered from levels of corruption, but it did not require the likes of a revolution as violent and overwhelming as those of which we had witnessed in Egypt or Tunisia. To make things clearer, for myself who lives in Syria, we started witnessing exaggerations and lies spread by various sources; sometimes even creating events that never happened. I had daily calls and questions from friends abroad asking me how am I doing and I would give the same answer every time: “nothing is happening over here”.

By August 2011, the demonstrations reached my city, Aleppo, on very small scales. But wherever they happened, the people were generally terrified by the provocative calls and actions of the demonstrators who have resorted to various forms of religious shouts from the beginning.  They had also started blocking streets and neighborhoods while forced shop owners to close their shops. At the beginning of 2012, the protesters started getting more aggressive. They began attacking those who asked them to leave their peaceful neighborhoods. They began labeling them as ‘shabeeha’. They began threatening them with death. On several occasions, I witnessed protesters attacking unarmed traffic police; as well as vandalizing public and private property. Later they got very violent; blowing up the shops of anyone who had any Syrian flag, other than that of the FSA, raised outside their shops; or had a picture of the President hung inside. They resorted to fear tactics such as death threats and kidnapping; especially kidnapping children of the wealthy Aleppo bourgeois, most of whom soon fled the country after having paid millions in exchange for their lives and their families.

2) What has it been like in Aleppo for the past couple of months?

The past couple of months have generally been the same since July 2012; when the FSA had invaded half of the city, after cutting off all roads leading to the city that used to be economical center of Syria. Since then, Aleppo has suffered terribly from lack of necessities and services, such as electricity, which NOW barely comes for an hour every 24 hours. Water was also cut off on several occasion by the terrorists in attempt to bargain with the government. Water was also cut off by their infamous subterranean massive explosions that had once led to the complete absence of water all over the city for over two months. On August/Ramadan 2013, the people of Aleppo living in the part under the Syrian government control were under full siege by the various terrorist organizations, such as FSA and Jabhat AlNusra. The siege, which lasted for weeks, prevented anyone from taking food or any products into the part of the city under government control.


3) What was the scariest part/worst experience?

There have been several times where my family and I were in the direct threat of death. When your loved ones are in grave danger, there is no worse feeling. On October 2012, the FSA were very close to my house. I witnessed thousands flee their homes in their pajamas at 6 am with barely anything with the. This was the most terrifying moment in my life. My brother and I went out to the street after hearing gunshots, explosions and tabkeer shouts. The terrorists invaded the adjacent neighborhood after taking over a nearby police station that has been defending the whole area for weeks. I called on relatives to bring their cars and come take the women and children, the valuables, and of course, our papers. I refused to abandon my house knowing that they will loot and burn it, or even use it as a position to hide in, or attack from. A handful of armed residents managed to keep the terrorists away from our neighborhood for a few hours until security forces arrived and pushed them further back. When I recall these incidents today, it all flashes so quickly before my eyes; but back then every second felt like ages. I can still remember how fast my heart was beating when I woke up to the sound of gunshots and takbeers. I can still remember old men, old women and children, crying as they were running to safety. Thankfully we did not lose our house, unlike many unlucky Aleppo residents, and by next morning a group of a couple of hundreds Syrian Arab Army soldiers arrived to our neighborhood and were cheered by all who remained in their homes.

4) Did you ever want to leave?

Yes, on several occasions, mostly from 2013 until summer 2014. There seemed to be no hope back then. Everything was deteriorating on every level. Water would be cut off for days or even weeks. Electricity would be cut off for weeks. We could barely find any fuel in the coldest winter. People started cutting green trees to keep their families warm. We spent months on candle lights, and would only eat whatever we had stocked of rice, lentils, and bulgur.

5) Why did you stay?

For many reasons, mainly because I refuse to be mistreated and humiliated like many Syrian refugees in neighboring countries have been. I would rather stay with my family in these hard times than leave them when they need me most and be humiliated in a refugee camp, or to struggle as a minimum wage slave. I have a roof and walls that shelter me here, and a loving family that I need, as much as they need me. To be honest, if I could afford traveling abroad to live a decent life, I can afford to stay here and live a decent life around my loved ones.

6) What do the people of Aleppo feel at this time?

The majority of those I meet and talk to feel exhausted by the continuous war, they want to return to their normal lives they had before the war. Many also feel heartbroken over severe losses. There is hardly a family in Aleppo that has not been directly affected and has not lost something very precious be it a property or a loved person.

7) Do you have hope for things to get better?

I have experienced several periods of despair throughout this crisis. I have lost so much from the beginning of the events in Syria, starting with my job and not ending with my only brother. On several occasions, I felt broken and hopeless. I cannot forget the cries, the explosions, the destruction and the fear and terror. I have also seen people rise from their misery and distress, find a way to get over their losses and stand on their feet again, rebuild their destroyed homes and shops and start working again. I may be a pessimistic person who has apocalyptic views, but I have learned a lot from my city and my people, I have learned that at all costs I must die fighting, not running. I learned that, hopeful or hopeless, one should always work hard for as long as they live and die fighting, with no regrets.

8) What can people in the West do to help?

The people in the west can, and must, do a lot since it is their governments that have been the main, and worst, cause of the all sufferings in Syria and Middle East, generally. I believe they can start by writing to their representatives in whatever democratic system they claim to have, to lift the harsh and unfair sanctions on Syria. The people of Syria, which used to be one of the main exporters for food in Middle East, now suffer from lack of food as well as fuel and other necessities due to severe sanctions imposed by the USA, the EU and the UK and of course their puppet allies elsewhere. They also should rally to call for their governments to stop meddling around the world and disturbing peace, which has caused the death of millions since Vietnam. I believe that if the people of the west are interested in world peace they should seek serious changes in their governments’ policies in the Middle East as well as elsewhere." -ALEPPO, SYRIA 

The Cross Around My Neck is Heavy to this Day

"So much for the sound of the holy rivers that nourished the fields of wheat. Gone is the smell of the air that moves the arid Earth that I once called home. Far away are the Mountains that shielded me when I fled from the madmen of the East. Here, in gloomy England I live and breathe my last. Grey skies on the cusp of rainfall in Industrial suburbs will be the sight that surrounds my grave. Yet I dream of the fertile land between the rivers and lament that I shall sleep so far away from the halls where my ancestors slept for thousands of years. Someone else lives in my house now and, soon, the walking relic that I am shall turn to a memory of a time long gone. This is the curse of the diaspora Assyrian.


My story begins long ago when the world was new. A City flourished with trade and grew to encompass lands far away from the edges of it’s walls. That city was Assur and no Assyrians live there today. It bequeathed an Empire that stretched from Iraq to Egypt and further. Great Kings built new Cities and engineered Hanging Gardens that mesmerised foreign travellers enough to know that they were in the very centre of the Earth. A grand Civilisation that, as all others before it did and all others after it will, fell into decay. Swift was the fall of the Assyrian Empire. To a people whose worldview incorporated a pantheon of Gods headed by a God of War, to lose a single battle was an apocalyptic sign and, when the battle was lost, sure enough the Empire fell. First it was incorporated into a brief Babylonian Empire but, soon enough, Assyria fell into the hands of the Persians, the first of a long line of foreign invaders. 612 BC was the date that Nineveh fell although a brief resistance continued in the North at Harran until 608 BC. After this point, full political independence was never again achieved.


Yet, there was still hope. One of the legacies of the Neo Assyrian Empire was the emergence of Aramaic as the exclusive language of Iraq and the Levant. It was not the original language of the Assyrians but it became the lingua franca before the fall of the Empire. The Persians, who originally saw themselves as successors to the Assyrian Empire, retained Imperial Aramaic and Assyrian names for the provinces of their Empire. Such was the extent of Assyrianisation that, when the Greeks arrived they named Syria as ‘Syria’, a name derived from the Assyrians. Assyria proper, which is in the North of Iraq but actually stretches into parts of Turkey and overlaps into Syria was the original homeland of the Assyrians. By the time of the Greeks Assyria had morphed into Classical Assyria which was a sort of wider term for a much bigger segment of the Assyrian Empire not limited to Assyria proper. Later, when the Romans arrived and the Persians arrived (again) they split classical Assyria between them. The Romans had Syria province (modern Syria) and the Persian Sassanians had Asoristan which included basically all of Iraq. So, despite the fall of the Assyrian Empire there was an Aramaic speaking people who self identified by a word derived from Assyrian living in Iraq and Syria at this time.


It was in this time that a second Assyrian golden age blossomed. Not one built on war and the God of War but, increasingly, on newer Gods. Prevalent in this time were new religions such as Manicheanism and various Eastern influenced religions as well as Hellenic ones. In the midst of all this, one religion was becoming dominant, Christianity. Semi autonomous Assyrian Kingdoms were the earliest to adopt Christianity as their state religion. Major schools of Christian scholarship emerged in Antioch and Edessa (Urhay) and later, Nisibin. Monasteries dominated the Mountains and Churches the cities. Writers and Poets such as Saint Ephrem and Isaac of Nineveh created Christian works in a uniquely Assyrian style. In this time, Assyrians were persecuted by the Persian Sassanians who pursued a more heavy handed Zoroastrian Orthodoxy than their predecessors and also the Byzantine Romans for perceived unorthodox Christianity. It was in this context that the Arabs came out of Arabia into Assyria.


The Arab invasion was not seen as an immediate calamity for the Assyrians. They were a Semitic people similar to the Assyrians and, at least initially, had many Christians among their ranks. Assyrians saw them as liberators from the harsh taxes and policies of the Persians and Byzantines and were given special positions as translators of Greek philosophical texts for the Arabs. Here there is often a mistaken narrative that the Arabs converted the population rapidly. In fact Abassid writers who travelled around the Empire considered the land from Tikrit upwards to be essentially totally Christian throughout their rule. Though Islam was far more successful in the South of Iraq and the South West of Syria it didn’t really penetrate deep into the Assyrian heartlands. Syriac remained the lingua franca in those parts. Arabisation only extended to the areas that were more solidly Muslim. The Medieval Assyrians were now called the Syrian Christians. Christianity had kept their name and their culture alive.


There were periodic persecutions by the various Islamic Caliphates. One Caliph forced Christians to wear distinctive markers on their clothes. Christians were always considered second class citizens and lows forbid them from prostelytising. They had no fixed tax rates and so bared the brunt of the financial burden of Caliphate war expenses. It was, however, for the most part acceptable, especially by medieval standards. The real calamity for Assyrians arrived with the age of the migrations and, specifically, the migration of the Turks and the Mongol invasions from Central Asia. The Seljuk Turks were not especially bad and the early Mongols were actually favourable to the Assyrians because of earlier missionary efforts to Central Asia. However, the later Mongol Warlords converted to Islam (mainly for political reasons) and, one of them, Timur would inflict the first great Assyrian persecution. Timur decimated the entire Assyrian population. His brutal genocidal campaign kicked the Assyrians out of the great Cities of the former Caliphate and out even of Assyria proper. Tikrit was gone, Erbil was gone, Mosul (Nineveh) was gone, although a Christian community would quickly resurface there. It was at this time, that Ashur was finally and definitively destroyed.


The Assyrians now lived exclusively in villages in the mountains of South East Turkey and North Western Iran. Kurdish villagers took their place in their former heartlands, a trend that continues to the modern day. Assyrians still had some autonomy in their new lands. Hakkari was controlled by the patriarch of the Church of the East, they still held on in Zakho down to the Nineveh Plains. There was a brief resurgence over the next few centuries as they rebuilt on a much smaller scale as part of the Ottoman Empire. The Ottomans were, in their earlier incarnation quite tolerant of ethnic and religious minorities. However, tribal warfare between Assyrians and Kurds was quite prevalent at the time and led to several massacres of Assyrians in the 1800’s, most significantly by Bedr Khan. This century would mark the beginning of the end of the Assyrian Nation as it had been the previous centuries and culminated in Seyfo. In 1915 the fascist Young Turk government of the Ottoman Empire was running their part in the Great War. Assyrians and Armenians were relying on the Russian Empire to hold their historic lands while the Turks were allied with several Kurdish tribes. When the Russians withdrew from the war, the Turks unleashed a huge genocidal campaign against all non-Muslim civilians in what was left of the dying Empire. The Assyrians lost two thirds of their population and were purged almost entirely from the land that became known as Turkey. As previously, Kurds now occupied their homes.


Then, what was left of the Assyrian nation limped into Iraq and, in desperation, worked for the British Army in return for settlement and citizenship. A return to their Ancient homeland was marked by xenophobia from an Arab and Kurdish population that had forgotten who they were and saw them as collaborators with the British. This reached a fever pitch when the British formally left Iraq. At this stage, Assyrians still made up the largest population in the Nineveh Plains and today’s Dohuk Governate and Akre and were asking for autonomy in this minuscule remnant of a homeland. They were denied with ferocity. In 1933 the Iraqi army (or a rogue Kurdish general depending on who you ask) launched the Simele Campaign which killed up to 3000 unarmed Assyrian Civilians while many others fled to the Khabour River in Syria. An echo of the Genocide just under 20 years earlier, Assyrians were at this point already turning up in countries all around the world. Now comprising just around 5 percent of the Iraqi population and a smaller figure in Syria, Assyrians attempted to continue onward in the face of a new phenomena, Arab nationalism.


Assyrians in Iraq were encouraged to identify as Arab Christians. Though they made up the largest population in places such as Qamishle in Syria and Dohuk in Iraq, they were witnessing mass migration of Kurds into these newly industrialised areas. Though they had a vibrant community in Baghdad, the toll of several wars and economic sanctions led to many seeking emigration abroad. Then the 2003 Iraq war and the subsequent problems of Islamic fundamentalist groups further accelerated their emigration. Though this was all of Iraq’s problem it impacted the Assyrians heavily because they were already a smaller population prone to emigration. They were still asking for autonomy but now in the much smaller Nineveh Plains region where they still made up a slight majority. Just when the Iraqi Government appeared to be moving towards a Nineveh Plains solution, ISIS arrived to expel Assyrians from their ancient capital at Mosul and from part of the Nineveh Plains. In the last week, ISIS captured 250 villagers from the Khabour River in Syria who had fled Simele 80 years earlier.


So, here I am. The Cross around my neck is heavy on this day. Though it saved my people our name and culture in the past, today it is the object of ridicule in my homeland. It has been taken from me so cruelly. I wish I was born at any other time in my people’s history other than this. I wish I could have seen Assyria when it was new but, alas, I must be there at her sad end. It was one too many calamities in a row the wise men tell me. Still, my last thoughts are with my neighbours. My heart is filled with anger towards the Arabs and the Turks and the Kurds and all those who have torn my land into pieces and grabbed a piece for themselves. My despair and sorrow has filled me with a vengeance such that I wish to curse the land forever and all its inheritors. Yet, the sad eyed man God intervenes. He taught me, above all else, to love my neighbours. So, I love my neighbours. I just wish that they hadn’t killed me for believing in the God of neighbourly love."





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