Forty-Eight Hours in the War Zone
The events of June 28, 2012 are etched in my memory. They come back to haunt me every time I smell the stench of...
“Mama, Why Are They Shelling Us?”
Daily life in the city of Daraya has been full of chaos and death since the uprising began. It is no longer safe to...
Revolution Compounds Hardships Endured by Syrian Widow
My name is Um Nizar, and I’m from Kfar Nabel in Idlib province. I’m almost 57 years old and I live with my children...
The Martyr’s Wife
She will always remember the fourth day of Eid al-Adha in 2013. That was the day she took her infant daughter, just under a...
Surgery Under Fire
I live in Aleppo, in an area under regime control where it is hard to move around and working for the revolution. People say...
Defying Tradition to Join the Revolution
On the night of April 20, 2011, I was hurrying to join a candlelight vigil. I had hesitated about attending, but eventually decided to...
Life or Death a Matter of Luck in Damascus
It’s three in the afternoon on a February day in 2015. My mobile phone rings in my bag. It’s my mother calling. “Where...
Journey Into Revolution
The first time Leila heard the call to action was on March 25, 2011, in a grainy YouTube video of worshippers emerging from the...
Death From Above in Aleppo
We had come to Tariq al-Bab, Aleppo, to celebrate New Year’s Eve 2013 at a children’s festival organised by the Democratic Forum. I come...
Women Told to Hide “Shining Eyes” in Raqqa
One day in late December, Yara and her cousin decided to go the nearby grocer’s shop to buy a few items. It was a...
My Brother, the Martyr
In Deir al-Zor, we marched in protests during the day and hid at home in the evenings, listening to the sounds of clashes and...
A Lovers’ Meeting, Postponed Indefinitely
“A male dinosaur says to a female dinosaur, ‘Give me a kiss.’ “‘No,’ she says, ‘I don’t want to.’ “‘Well,” he says, ‘that’s why...
Yarmouk: Killing Hunger With Sleep
In the past my thoughts were built upon certain rules. I don’t know where I got them from or why I decided they were...
Syria: My Friend the Martyr
“My friend the martyr.” An entire year has passed between my writing that sentence and now these lines. When I wrote “my friend the...
Raqqa’s “Merciful” Morality Squad
One morning in mid-November, Bushra left the house as she did every day at seven am. She heard Abu Saad, who drove the service...
A Ghost City Full of Painful Memories
On the afternoon of May 24, 2013, the weather was beautiful and the smell of the wonderful jasmine which grows in Damascus filled the...
