Translation

Story by Zandavesta Gareb

Translation by by Maha Karahamad

Syrian Refugee path
In a beautiful city called (Aleppo), there was hope, pleasure and peace among the people, where the beautiful flowers find themselves a place to bloom peacefully, and houses embraced innocent smiles on the faces of the children.
We lived in peace until the year 2011; we lived our days quietly between the school and the hopes of our family and the small dreams, which we were building in our minds.
But oneday, everything changed. The war started, and the situation started to get worse. It was only months before the bombs began to hit the civilians and their homes.
Years passed and the weapons continued to destroy the houses, wiping with it the smile of the children, the smile turned into a pain and blood and people lost their dreams and beloved ones in that war that took humans and everything and forced us to search for an alternative, and we decided to go to our village in the area of “Afrin“, Which was called “Qatmeh”. we tried to live as much as possible with our tragedy and to find new opportunities for the living, but we stayed waiting for the moment that tells us that we can return to our homes, we were waiting for that news every second of the minute and reflect on that beautiful news Which will allow us to return to our city.
But……. the days, months and years passed and the situation became worse in the village, the disorder of the situation did not stop and the war decided to chase us again, Our village “Qatma” in the eastern countryside of “Afrin” was under siege .
We did not have a choice, we had to flee the village and travel from our country after we were surrounded by our partners in home just because we did not share the same ideas they have in their imagination.
We do not know where we are going, how our life will be, what we will do, we are three girls and a little brother, our future, our schools, our parents and our relatives and their fate. All those questions didn’t leave our little heads but we didn’t have a choice so we flee to (Turkey). The country where we only knew suffer and work.
In Turkey to be a Syrian is an enough reason to make fun of you, It is enough to force you to work 12 hours without breaks and with a little pay, We become much more older than what we actually are. The Turkish people looked at us with contempt and they told us to go back to our country, but we had to stay there, our country is still wounded and the wound is increasing and blood is flowing in all its corners and we cannot resist there to live with dignity.
We have spent 3 years struggling to cope with our lives to no vail. Our future has been lost, our work has been stopped and our dreams have been threatened without our ability to find a solution.
The cruelty of the days decided to increase the concern on our shoulders, It was my father illness, My father could not get a work in Turkey, and it must be so hard for him to see his three flowers(( his daughters)) go out to work without their will . We took him to the hospital to get treatment, but his condition worsened day by day without knowing what was happening to him until they informed us that he had ((cancer)).
Since then, my father had been unable to eat or even drink water, He lived on Serum only. We have lost our balance and we cried all the time and we kept asking God to heal him. We were looking at the doctor hoping to hear good news, but on no avail. The doctors have been hiding from us the situation of my father who is constantly getting worse, one day they told us that they had brought him into the recovery room. My father told me he missed me and asked me to visit him. I went to the hospital and touched his hand and he felt so tired. He laughed when I asked him, “Dad, are you okay?” I almost cried out, he answered I am fine, my daughter. Do not be afraid, but I started to get annoyed with this bed and I want to go outside, I knew deep inside me that he was not okay. But He did not want us to suffer more, before I left I kissed his hands and went out and my tears flowed with sadness. After several days after the work the phone rang and it was the hospital informed us that my father’s condition was so bad and we had to go to see him. We rushed to the hospital and there they told us the news that shocked our hearts. My father died and the words were silent because no word could describe my feelings.
I could not believe it, I started to blame the situation that took my father from me and displaced us from our country, but no one can hear what is inside my mind.
My mother decided to complete my father’s dream and insisted to register refugee request to go to United states , people told us that in US life would be more beautiful and we would be able to complete our education and we will be able to complete the path our father had wanted for us.
We arrived in America ((Jersey City) on (17-8-2016) in the second round of our refugee and we start the journey to meet new people, it start as we were lost we look at the new people and they look at us as if they knew we where strangers, but the hope will stay the thread that should not be broken so that we can continue to live and have a better life
I was and still dreaming……….
Did not my father ever say that he was fine despite the pain inside him? so I am also (okay)
I love My Dad
Name : Zandavesta gareb – 18 years

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