Syria’s Living Nightmare

By Maryam Hasan

Sometimes there is nowhere to run, and no escape even in dreams. Wolves, guns, blood and death are characters in my dreams – or rather nightmares – as well as my reality. No matter how hard I try to escape from the images that news channels show tirelessly, they follow me in my sleep.

Days and nights are the same for me, devoid of comfort and peace. I don’t have a choice. Walking in the streets of Damascus, I find people sad and scared – or maybe it is my inner sadness that colours everything around me. Living in suburban semi-countryside, we used to find an excuse to visit Damascus. But not anymore. A trip to Damascus is a torturous thing to do nowadays. The ongoing public uprising has given people freedom to express themselves, and they talk freely, but without a clue to what the future holds for us all. All we know is that we have to choose between a bloodthirsty ruler or a life without fear and exploitation.

Day after day, I expect a healthy change to come about in the lives of Syrians, but my hopes seem too much to ask for.

Ramadan, the Islamic month of blessings, was welcomed here in a very special way. The government made arrangements that Syrians can neither pray Isha, their early night prayer together, nor observe their fast quietly and calmly.

Yet I am fasting in solidarity with the people of Hama, where tanks are leveling every obstacle in the way and shells silencing each living voice with their deafening noise. I keep thinking of their well-being, their wounds and hunger. The people of Hama expressed courage when the Soviet Union-backed Hafez al-Assad ruled the country like a fiefdom. No mobile phone cameras, Facebook, Twitter or social media was there to spread their words and images. Bashar’s father killed over 20,000 mercilessly. The martyrs’ sons and brothers have come of age now. They inspire us all again, three decades later.

You have to shut up here to survive otherwise death claims you. I have not seen many rich people becoming fodder for Bashar’s armed assault; only the poor pay the ultimate price. As far as human rights go, their blood is cheap, very cheap. The killers are the rich ones who have a fetish for controlling the lives of the powerless and the poor. If it is not due to United States and other mighty nations’ silence, then who has given the ruling minority the right to crush the demands of 22 million Syrians?

Observing my own moratorium on watching the news, I flick through TV channels for dramas, which can offer me some hope to survive. But watching the Turkish soap operas, I can hardly forget my pain for even a minute before reality shatters my illusionary peace.

In this living nightmare, I wait for Bashar’s army to knock at my door and arrest me while I look helplessly at my family. Undoubtedly, I prepare myself for this situation that can happen any time. Now I try to be nice to my family as much as possible for I fear we will be separated by Syrian intelligence agents.

At supper time, each family member looks in the others’ eyes as if asking some scary questions. What if we fail? What will the future hold for youth that lead the uprising? Will we be quiet and accept the same regime for another 40 years, waiting for the next generations of tyrants? Will we have the heart to bear the taunts of Bashar’s supporters? Should we emigrate to other countries? But who will take us seriously and not as a threat to law and order?

I thought that we lived in a global village. I stand corrected and realize that I live in an isolated village where the law of the jungle applies. The United States, the world’s sole superpower, and its European allies are mere spectators. Like many compatriots, I wonder what is stopping them from moving against the regime. Is the US the strongest country in the world or does dictator Bashar’s regime hold that position? Shamelessly, Washington looks at the Middle East through an Israeli prism, thus we all appear terrorists.

I look towards Turkey in the hope that they can rescue democracy-loving people in Syria who prayed that Erdogan would win a new term in office. We are sure that he hears our slogans for democracy and our cries for help. But his tough talk has to translate into real action now. His announcement that he will be sending the Turkish foreign minister with a tough message for Damascus is heartening for every democracy-loving Syrian. Damascus has already lost Russian support, with its leaders have categorically warning him against ignoring public demands.

I often wish I could leave Syria and move to a peaceful, prosperous country. Then, I wonder what if this new homeland would also fail to deliver.

Even if we fail, Syria won’t be the same any more. It will be seen as a country of valiant though wounded and sad people. I thought a revolution would give Syrians a new identity, but now we are being branded as terrorists by our own rulers.

Until March 2011, Syria never inspired me as homeland. But today its citizens make me so proud after laying their lives down for dignity against slavery.

Yes I am a Syrian, living amongst isolated but courageous people. Realising that this is my identity is my sole victory so far since the uprising began.