Detained and Tortured, But Still Strong
Friday, a weekend day in Syria, used to be a time for leisure. Those days are long gone, and Friday is now associated with...
Damascus, Divided by War
Four years have passed since the beginning of the Syrian revolution, and Damascus and its environs remain divided. Neither government nor opposition has achieved...
Waiting for a Cup of Coffee
Ziad al-Sayid Issa was born in 1958. He was my father’s cousin. His path of suffering began in late 1979 when a group of...
A Key to No House
Samah Imam’s family stood riveted in front of the television, watching a news report about Kurdish forces retaking territory from Islamic State militants in...
My Brother the Martyr
On December 1, 2013 I decided to pay my uncle a visit. I was at his house playing with my six-month-old cousin when the...
Food Cooked With Love
It was September 2012, and protests in Syria’s Idlib province were on the increase. Many young men had taken to carrying weapons to protect...
The Power of a Costly Document
Prison is a humiliating place. It cuts a person’s life short. Every single night, I dreamed that my son would be released. Ahmad was...
A Sick Joke on April Fool’s Day
It was seven in the morning on April 1, 2015 – time to get up for work. I was still at my job in...
Air Raids Just Routine in Besieged Syrian Town
Nothing seemed different about that particular morning in Douma. The cold night was over, and the sounds of artillery fire from government forces had...
My Son, My Protector
I will never forget how the day that changed my life unfolded. It was early evening on September 7, 2007 when the phone started...
Crawling Through Trenches
When Eastern Ghouta was liberated, we were overjoyed, yet not a day went by without us worrying. The regime retaliated for the loss of...
Humiliated for a Bag of Bread
Until Syrian government forces placed Ghouta under siege towards the end of 2013, it was still possible to travel there by bus from Damascus....
A Stolen Biscuit
It was almost break time at the girls’ school I worked at in Douma. As I walked down the corridor, I heard a girl...
A Mother’s Sorrow and Pain
Khaldiya Diyab devotes Thursday mornings to visiting four of her sons. She steps out of her house dressed in black, holding a bunch of...
Detained and Abused for Delivering Aid
Carrying money through the Mleha checkpoint was almost impossible, but I had 1,000 US dollars in aid money that I needed to deliver to...
“Don’t Cry, I’m Alive”
My name is Hiba and I’m 23 years old. My family and I were among the last to leave Douma before the Free Syrian...
