The First Day of Our Revolution
It wasn’t a normal day for the people of Homs. On 18 April, 2011, the city seemed to witness a rebirth. Demonstrations against the...
Losing Three Sons, Fearing for the Rest
My six sons were among the first to join the revolution. Each of them offered everything they could to make it succeed. In 2013,...
My Wheelchair and I
A woman fights to be well enough to return home.
Returning to be Welcomed by Missiles
We were forced to leave our home village because it was constantly caught in crossfire between battles raging in Idlib and Hama. Many villagers...
A Sad Homecoming
On November 14, 2016, my father and I went to visit our hometown of Taybat al-Imam after the opposition forces finally took control of...
Lost In Grief
Maha, a 29-year-old woman from Kafr Nabl, lost her father when she was just 14 years old. She was the eldest child, with a...
I Can Still Smell the Blood
My family and I were having lunch on the afternoon of September 15, 2013 in our home in the city of al-Tabqah when we...
Saying Goodbye to Marwa
My sister Marwa used to live in a beautiful house in the city of Aleppo with her policeman husband and their children. They had...
No Happy Endings
When I moved into my new home, my neighbour Hamsa, 26, came to visit. She told me the story of her life and I...
Syria’s Soil Even If Thrown Above Our Bodies
Marwan’s mother (37 years old) from the countryside of Idlib, crossed into Turkey a year ago to escape death. She lived a difficult life...
I Live to Say Goodbye to Those I Love
Our suffering began the moment my son Qutaiba was arrested in his army barracks almost six years ago, at the beginning of the revolution....
Saidnaya Prison: the “Red Dragon”
When my 41-year-old husband was arrested, my home became somehow darker. Not a single lamp was broken, but our hearts were shattered into pieces....
My Son Is My Real Celebration
When we arrived in Turkey from Syria, after facing many problems on the way, my family and I settled in a small house near...
The Pain of a Syrian Mother
Um Hani, a 45 year-old from the Idlib countryside, recalls accompanying her son Hani’s body to the cemetery. “Perhaps one of the most painful...
I Don’t Even Have the Right To Grieve
Don’t ever make a friend during wartime. There’s a role for you to grieve as a mother, a sister, a wife, a lover, but...
He Refused to Say “Bashar”
It was Sunday, July 31, 2011, and we were preparing to welcome the month of Ramadan. My son Radwan had high hopes that the...
