In Memory of my Soul Brother Raed Fares & Hamoud Jnaid

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Raed, Hamoud & Khalid amongst others in Kafranbel, Idlib

Raed Fares and Hamoud Jnaid were assassinated together on the 23rd November 2018. They were both prominent figures of the Syrian Revolution, leading many critical projects in Kafr Nabl, (Kafranbel), Syria. I think most people who have followed Syria know exactly who these men are.

This has taken me some time to be able to share anything. A light was turned off in my heart when they left this earth.
I have always kept a level of privacy with who I know and all I do, but I genuinely could not have been more proud to know these men. I didn’t publish a tribute mainly because I would have to limit my personal emotions and that is not something I wanted to do. So here I am sharing this personally here.

I am sure the world can understand the work Raed & Hamoud have done; life changing projects that never stopped growing; but I wish to share a little about the Raed & Hamoud I knew personally.

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The endless laughter I miss so greatly with Raed. Trying to take a ‘normal’ photo together even took many tries to not be acting like fools together.

Raed Fares was not just a best friend to me, he was my big brother I never had before we met. He was my light when I struggled in the dark in my work in Syria. I am still somewhat in disbelief and still check my phone awaiting a reply sometimes, or replaying voice messages wishing it was yesterday. This has destroyed a part of my heart like I could never have imagined.

Even in the moments we should have been deadly serious, we never could be. We laughed our way through everything.

Raed was a husband, brother & a father like no other. He was a face for inspiration of freedom across the world; but at home he was a very proud father of three wonderful young men, and he was merely a young cheeky boy in love teasing his wife. They had a bond that was unbreakable, they were always smiling, his wife was a love he fought for through a very troublesome younger era, and when I would sit alone with them the sparkle in their eyes still would shine bright; it was a love I hoped to have in my life. His dear wife has not just lost her husband, she has lost her spirit; they completed each other in every way. He was the wall she would lean on. “My heart burned for Raed… I am shattered and ruined…” as she shared in the tragic aftermath of his death. This truly is an incredible, loving family.

Through all his foreign trips many would give him gifts or ask for things to be brought back into Syria for others; Raed would accept of course but would make sure the space in his bag at the border was reserved for gifts for his precious wife. While Raed was a cheeky charming innocent flirt in life, his heart was lit for his one and only lady deep inside.

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He was an instigator in all the best ways with a heart of gold. We spent most of our time with new unexpected ways to get into mischievous adventures together. Every encounter would be a random unknown experience.

Everything from arguing over vegetables in the market that somehow would bring us to tears in laughter with everyone looking at us like we are crazy, shouting at each other in cars for his insane driving skills, randomly sitting in an impromptu meeting with the family of what was to be Khalid’s wife so he could get me to see how beautiful she is secretly, getting him active on twitter & us being stuck on the bio so I simply wrote “I have a big nose.” which had us laughing for days; that bio lasted for quite a while before he had to try to be more professional in public (he totally should have kept my bio!), the dreadful singing skills, the random always blurry selfies of guys together with a thinking of me message, the awful photos he would always take of me and send out to others that made me crazy, his laughter when I ask about ‘crocodile’ because I could never remember his real name even as the years passed by… where do I begin or even end, these are just a few of so any memories engraved in my soul.

Raed would often share how proud he was to know me; he never did take me seriously when I would respond to tell him he was one of the biggest parts of my inspiration in life. He was so important to me that I was planning to have him as my celebrant when I finally got the moment to have a real wedding celebration. How he laughed & loved my crazy plans.

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With Hamoud in Kafr Nabl, Syria

Hamoud Jnaid was an incredible man of integrity & care. I had first met Hamoud on a trip in 2014. Raed, Hamoud, Khalid Al-Essa (who tragically was killed in 2016 in Syria), and myself would laugh like crazy with the others, my jaws would truly hurt for a couple of days after I would leave, I have never had such joys like this in my life and the fact is; somehow through the worst tragedy I will ever witness in my life in Syria I was blessed with the strongest bonds & experiences.

Raed was insisting I relaxed and take off my hijab as he couldn’t understand why I was keeping it on inside in private with them… after long humorous bickering as usual together, I took it off to make him shut up and understand why I didn’t want to take it off. There was a second of silence with an uproar of laughter as he told me to quickly put it back on after seeing the mess I was under it all. I had been in Syria for many weeks at that time and hadn’t been able to wash my hair; many locations I had been to before I arrived to Kafr Nabl had no water due to the crisis and the water available was not to be wasted on something as mundane as washing my hair.

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With Rafif, Hamoud’s Daughter

Hamoud insisted I came to his home to have a shower and change. Hamoud’s wife and children were so kind to me as the amazing true people of Syria are. We sat for dinner together with his family and his beautiful daughter Rafif became so close to me, a photo taken of us together that evening became the one photo that Raed and I would be laughing about years later because he was so tired of Hamoud always showing the same photo. We even laughed to test his theory about this photo shortly before his death. Hamoud was not with us, so Raed wrote to him to say he was with me and that photo arrived as the only reply with a big heart emoji; you cannot imagine how we laughed until we cried at the response.

One evening in Syria Hamoud brought back arabic sweets for me knowing I love sweets more than anything, even with all the things he had to do he took a moment to think to do something so kind.

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Khalid Al-Essa with Hamoud in Kafr Nabl, Syria

These men are the most honourable men I could ever encounter in life. I trusted them with my work, with my life, with my privacy. These men didn’t have one bad bone in their body. These men are exactly what the world should aspire to be. I trusted them as family to me; they were family to me.

Somehow anytime I was with Raed whether in Syria or Turkey I had him cooking for me. One of the best memories of my life was watching as Raed, Hamoud, Khalid & ‘Crocodile’ cook together for me in the centre, the building would vibrate to the sound of bombs as laughter would echo through the rooms with our never ending humorous vulgar insults for one another. They would be clueless as they struggled to put together vegetarian meals for me yet it would be delicious. What I would give to have such moments again.

I even had the honour of being trusted to have my own key to his offices; that’s yet another comical story. Those buildings are full of people from every generation working on incredible projects their mastermind fought to create.

There is much more to Raed than the man many of the world identify with in knowing as a their activist friend. There was really so much more to the joker he always acted to be. This was a man of deep love and deep pain. Under that laughter was a deep-rooted pain; a pain for so much loss in Syria. That pain could be seen at rare moments deep in his eyes sometimes when he played his oud alone. He carried heartache for so much loss; especially after the death of Khalid who was a son to him.

Yasmin Al Tellawy & Raed Fares

The last time I parted ways with him at the border shortly before his death we struggled with words as usual with that awkward goodbye hug, masked under vague weak attacks for each other to cover emotions, there was a look always that look that would leave me crying after; we just never know when it is the last goodbye in Syria. We had a long silence as we parted ways knowing things were always so unknown. These silences became longer as time went on, I guess a slight moment of realising it truly might be our last goodbye.
I was scheduled to be back with him shortly after, we had been trying to work out the final details which was getting harder with the threats on his life.
That love I speak about between him and his wife was the side of Raed I was working on showing; the man under the journalist & activist he is widely known as, I was chasing his love story. While I respected greatly all the work he did, this was not my interest, just Raed as a person was all.

We had a long-standing twisted humour when we would contact each other “Why are you still alive!?” Poking fun of each other and our ridiculous lives. We would joke with each other over the emotional speech people give when someone dies even if they hated them, he promised when I died he would just say “Yasmin, I hated her” I promised in return I would say “Raed, the biggest ass**** with the biggest nose.” How we laughed through our stupid humour.
I never really thought the day would come foolishly as the years continued. I can hear Raed’s laughter as I write that echo in my head through my tears. At least I can say I kept my promise now and wrote it.

Raed Fares, Kafranbel, Idlib, Syria

Sometimes just a random “I hate you” “I hate you too” message exchange and nothing else would be spoken. Over the years years it became a comfort to get such messages. We could even sit together in Syria under air strikes and be tweeting silly messages to each other. There were the moments of long deep conversations of mutual support and care too. Through tougher times these conversations were lifelines to me; to be honest I could not have kept going in Syria without this friendship giving me strength.

There is no coward that can silence such people. There is not an act of violence that can be done to bring fear to others for the sickening actions that have been carried out; not only on Raed & Hamoud but across all of Syria. What happens now is a stronger voice will grow; this voice will echo not only in Syria but also across the world in support of Raed’s work & belief. These names will be written in history for our future generations to learn about and be inspired by to achieve greatness as they did.
The uneducated fools who carried out this heinous crime are only worthless murderers who will never have their names remembered; they will never gain respect.

Raed & Hamoud are the winners. Everything was achieved with a voice, a pen, a camera, a smile and love; nothing can challenge this.

Raed, Hamoud along with Khalid and so many others will remain indestructible in my heart; just as they will to everyone they loved, along with the people they have inspired in every country in this world.

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A wall in Kafr Nabl, Syria

Let’s go back to the beginning… Syria.

I started going to Syria from the beginning of the revolution. Looking back, it was the beginning of me truly living. I could never put into words the enlightening feeling there is of being surrounded by such an abundance of love, strength and passion in life.

Mid 2011 – Early 2012: While it was the beginning of a horrendous continual spiral downwards for Syria, it was also a time of unity, love, welcoming and laughter; emotions I was blessed to be a part off; looking back at the Syria I enter now I truly appreciate every moment in the beginning with all I got to experience.

I entered the country through routes unimaginable, mountain terrains across Lebanon, tunnels, running for your life through land mine territories, along with the paths that felt like a walk in a park which were somehow more worrying to me that a war zone was a few footsteps away. The stories are endless but I know many Syrians can tell plentiful tales than I ever could this one, and tragically many did not live to tell the tales of these dangerous crossings.

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The early demonstrations in Syria

When I finally reached the other side, I would be greeted with smiles, hugs, kisses, pulled in every direction by the locals of whatever village I arrived to. It was a joyous time in many ways. I would walk through the streets with the locals learning all about their life, discovering everything with little worry of those surrounding me. The shabiha were very present but I felt at such ease and comfort always of the men of the newly formed Free Syrian Army. This was a time when there was true unity across Syria in opposition to the government forces.

There was a beautiful energy among the people, even with the murders & imprisonments happening across the country.

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The early demonstrations in Syria

The streets would be full of cheering in the newly liberated areas, children playing in the streets as they should be, and then there were the demonstrations. What a wondrous time that was. I am sure you know what I am talking about if you were there. You remember that energy, the songs, the dancing, the chanting, the children clapping and dancing with their parents, handmade flags whisking through the crowds, in the villages the dry rice would be falling over you as the women sang and threw it over the crowds in joy. When I would arrive I would be treated like royalty! The people had so much love to show me, the welcoming was incredible. Most of my footage was terribly shaky as I couldn’t stop myself from having a little dance as I waved my way through the crowds. The drums would beat all around me and the sound of freedom songs filled the air. My ribs would ache continually as I traveled for weeks and months across the country and the laughter would be never-ending. I wish I had all my hard drives with me right now to share so much more.

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An early demonstration in Syria

Most of my travel would be done on the back of a pick up truck or a motorcycle, and at times whatever makeshift means of travel could be put together. I could travel across open roads freely in many ways while in FSA territory. There was a great sense of freedom as I could feel the wind against me as we traveled and I could film at ease with the locals welcoming nature.
We feared shelling, warplanes and snipers loyal to the Assad regime, but looking back in comparison to what has become now, the escalation is absolutely shocking.

Now, don’t get me wrong, there was tremendous tragedy, pain across the country that will always haunt, human life lost with no just reasoning. While the demonstrations would take place, there would be those times when government loyal forces would storm the area and kill as many as they could in their path of terror. Indiscriminate bombings, civilians murdered continually, loved ones constantly disappearing. The FSA took care to protect the civilians demonstrating, that was their job and the origins of why they were formed.

I don’t wish to go into all of that however, not in this moment. I mention this just incase anyone reading this things it was some sort of fun party in Syria; it was far from it. The realities were ridiculously dangerous and the war crimes unbearable to recall as they continue to be.

My reasoning for writing this is simply because I have continued to work in Syria to this day I write this and I have witnessed every step of the revolution, and the now chaos the country has descended into. Things are very different as we all know, week by week things change fast on the ground. Sadly the atrocities continue; in vast numbers with many different groups committing crimes now. Sadly I am not free to roam the streets and talk with locals as I wish. Sadly I cannot be known as a journalist or even humanitarian upon working with my charity there, and each time I enter the country, only my eyes show knowing there are few I can trust. I get such an overwhelming sense of sadness in these moments I travel. A once ‘freedom’ in many ways, to now a need to stay invisible. I feel weighed down at times with sadness from what has become of Syria lately and sit in this moment and recall so many cherished memories and cherished souls I have encountered.

I share this because I miss that unity. I miss those days, although I wish those days never had to exist, but I miss the beauty and glow of the Syrian people.

I have had a very busy year to date, but mostly have been away from social media as I just have not had the time to check in on it, but also at times because it saddens me deeply too. If I take a quick scroll through my news feeds on accounts I see so much hate, I just feel further sadness. There is enough destruction happening physically without now using social media as a method to spread hate too.

I do also have so much love, and you know who you are across the world who take their time to think of me and show me love frequently. That is never forgotten.

Smiles in Syria!

Smiles in Syria!

Stop and think, please. What has hate ever done for our world? What has hate ever done for you personally? What is that going to do for the chaos that has become Syria? I know a lot of it comes from places of anger and emotions, but focus those emotions towards love, towards sharing peace. That is how you can make a difference for Syria, for humanity.

Don’t waste time fighting over political movements in the country, the endless list of groups fighting across the country and the ever so complex who is who amidst this. Take your time on something in which you can and will make a difference, humanity. Remember that energy in the beginning, the love true Syrians have, that energy that was there in the beginning, it is still there in many, the people are weak in spirit but you can give them strength across the world to hold on to that love they had.

I still believe in Syria. I still believe in the people of Syria and I have ever reason to. My safety is in their hands to this day, to this day Syrians across the country protect me, give their lives to care for me. I will never be able to return the favour of what the people of Syria do for me, and I know the spirit of those who I have loved who has passed on are always surrounding and protecting me.

We all want to walk the streets of Syria freely once again, we all want to smell the sweet jasmine in the gentle evening breeze once again, and globally we need to be a part of the change.

There is no question hate is spreading across our world, the illness as I refer to it as called racism and religious intolerance from lack of understanding is on the rise. We have very sick people in our world who live by prejudice, and the only way to fight this is through a peaceful means. Through education, patience, and sharing peace and love in every step of our life we can teach those less educated about our world so much.

A wall in Kafranbel, Idlib, Syria

A wall in Kafranbel, Idlib, Syria

Weapons whether physical or verbal bring us pain and take us all to a dark place. Our world is big enough for us all to share. Our world has beautiful experiences we should all be able to share and I may be a dreamer, but our dreams are as alive as we make them, and I would prefer to journey through this life focusing on the love and sharing those experiences.

We are all humans, remember that. We are all part of the destruction across our world and we are all responsible for change. We all can be better, more loving souls every day and we need to work on that progression. Syrians taught me how to love, how to have inner peace, how to become a better person. Syrians showed me what love truly meant in this world with their kindness towards me, a strange to them in the beginning. Syrians deserve our love, and they deserve us to be showing the human face of the country much more.

With that I shall close on another note, from October I will no longer be working for mainstream media, I will be truly freelance again as I was in the beginning. I have always stayed freelance, but been drifting to too many contracts that do not give me satisfaction in what I do. I will no longer play a part in the role of the media giving minimal time with no care for the human story. I know that what the public want to see more, yet mainstream media continues to lack behind the public calling.

I will continue what I do but I will do so for anyone who wishes to take the time to see a human side of a story and I shall only be sharing human, civilian only stories from now on. If mainstream media wishes to take my stories they can do so as it is without editing my stories in any form; not that I have ever allowed anything from me be distorted to become a lie. I need to get back to human only stories as I began. These are the stories that matter in our world, the people deserve a voice. I ask you to do the same and together let’s keep peace and love spreading in our world and let’s keep the face of humanity alive.

Thank you for reading this if you have got this far… Truly thank you.

Peace and Love always…

Yasmin x

Islam…

Islam – the most controversial religion & topic in our world right now.I don’t like to turn a story into one that is about me, I like to stay private in my work as I think most will know, so I apologise in advance as I am turning this blog to be one that is about me to get my point across to you.

From the beginning of the crisis in Syria I have continually stayed on the ground with little time out the outside. To this day it remains the same. I have watched first hand this crisis changing, evolving, darkening. One thing has remained the same however; the true good people of Syria have remained loyal to assisting me, supporting me, protecting me, and respecting me.

Most of my time is spent with families. Families who are truly suffering within the war who are trying to cling to their dignity. I have stayed with families through their losses, tragedies, heartache, movements; each struggle that is faced within a war. Even through all of this they insist on caring for me. They insist on taking me in, giving me a place to sleep, feeding me and to this day it is a fight for me to try to give them anything in return.

I have argued with women trying to force me to wash; I have reservations as I do not wish for them to waste what little water they have on me washing when I just do not care when there, yet they force me. Come to think of it maybe that is for their benefit & not mine after all!

I sit with families that have such little food yet with their culture insist on giving all they can to me. I sit with their children who I can see are hungry & unhealthy yet even the children want to force feed me with no thought for themselves.

I am greeted with a love so rare; a love & bond that is indescribable. I am fought over on where I sleep as the children always like to sleep next to me. I am hugged & kissed in overwhelming amounts when I am welcomed back. I am cried over when it is time to say goodbye to a family to move to another area. I have gifts stuffed into every crevice of my bag; kids drawing for me & writing me letters, items now amounting to boxes weighing down my friends on each border awaiting a time I can get everything home.

I am sharing these small glimpses of life because this is the true face of Syrians; this is the true face of Islam. Anyone who has spent time with a Muslim family will know of the kindness; you will know of the bonds & the love created and I am quite sure you have never experienced such kindness, or situations of being so ridiculous full from eating too much with aching muscles from laughter too. I am most certainly not the only one with these experiences naturally, it just seems few speak out in public about it all.

Now, I am sure there will be some rather critical souls reading this who will be seeing me as a promoter of Islam or something alike. I do not promote or support any religion to be quite frank. I have my own spiritual beliefs in life, I simple believe in giving peace & love in all we do. I do have a problem with hate and lack of understanding in this world which makes me feel a need to speak as I am now. I have no disagreements with any religions; only with hypocrisy. I respect anyone living truly to their religion, everyone has their free choice in this world to be who they want through religion or no religion as far as I am concerned.

I do not hide who I am to anyone with my beliefs, and I am accepted for who I am and loved for who I am. Why? Well, the people truly living by Islam do not impose their beliefs upon another and accept another for who they are. As in any religion; it should never be imposed.

When I speak with people about why they still care for me, why they still protect me; they are putting their lives on the line to protect me – a stranger to their family for whom they could all be killed for; they simply do it naturally and find humour in my asking as it is just normal for them to do so and they are completely oblivious to the depths of what they do in caring for me.

It is no secret a lot of the world has a deep fear of Islam. Sadly Islamophobia is rapidly on the rise in every country. I am faced with conversations continually from people whom I can find little respect for when they feel a right to argue me about Islam and why it should be gone from the western world when they themselves have not even spent time with a Muslim; let alone visited a Muslim country. The lack of educated minds in our world is mind-blowing at times.

There is no question that the self-proclaimed Islamic State and other groups alike should be feared. There is no question they are involving themselves in terrorist activities. The thing that is forgotten is that true Muslims are not representatives of them. They know they are not Muslim and their practices are far from the practices that are stated in the Quran. They are simply a terrorist organisation masking under the name of a religion that does not belong to them.  The self-proclaimed Islamic State is a deeply complex matter to understand in itself, I shall leave that one aside for now.

Mainstream media is sadly an instigator for such hate rising in our world. While I work in the industry it does not mean I agree with much of what is done. There needs to be vast change in media & I do hope I see it in my lifetime. The term terrorist has taken a turn in the media to be one that is put into use when it is a person of Islamic birth roots committing the crime. The often happening school shootings across America from born Christians or otherwise are acts of terrorism, the tragic plane crash recently in France was an act of terrorism carried out by an individual, the beheadings of civilians are acts of terrorism, the Syrian regime dropping barrel bombs across Syria are acts of terrorism. There are continually acts of terrorism across our world. Terrorism comes in the form of all religious backgrounds, all colours, all countries.
Please think before you speak; please learn understanding because the hate being spread in our world is more terrifying to me than being in the midst of the most complicated battles within Syria could ever be.

A true person of Islam echoes the kindness & love I mention above on how I am cared for. This is the real face of Islam and this is a majority worldwide.

We are dividing our world. We are placing barriers between religions, the colour of someone’s skin, their country of origin, their sexual orientation & how another chooses to dresses. We are all responsible for the crisis in our world. We are all part of the problem and we all need to be taking steps to bring a change for the better; for the future in our world. We need to be removing these barriers that many have fought against through history to bring unity globally; yet here we are wishing to regress our societies.

I would not still be alive on this day to write this if it were not for the good-hearted souls representing what Islam truly is. In times of trouble in Syria there have been people who fought for my safety, Muslim people, there was no reward for them assisting & protecting me. They did not even want it to be known that it was them who helped me.

Now don’t get me wrong, there are issues within every culture; deep issues that need to be rooted out.  There is no such thing as perfect and everything takes hard work in our world. In the end hard work will always pay off. What we do need is a worldwide unity to tackle these challenges.

Lay down the hate and think. We are supposed to be educated individuals advancing in our world yet we seem to be plunging downhill.

Thank you to the beautiful souls I know worldwide from all religions backgrounds and countries; and a very special thank you always to the true people of Syria for all you do for me.

4 years later in Syria.

As I spend another anniversary in the country I decided this year to spend it with those who matter the most. The civilians. The displaced families internally.

Amidst the ruin of Syria I sit with Abo Omar & his wife Marwa while their 2 boys rummage around the room they have taken shelter in. They lost their home and eldest son Hamoud nearly 2 years ago when a government mortar hit their civilian populated area. Marwa was badly injured and has since recovered. This is the 5th building they have had to move to within Syria in the past 2 years, a sad trend that many can relate to within the country.

I first met Abo Omar over 3 years ago. Laughter was plentiful, his children chanted & danced among the crowds pulling me in to join them in dance with the joyous excitement of what they saw as a festival atmosphere. Vibrancy gleamed within the crowds, drums echoed through the streets with song that was haunting, the re-established flag to represent a Free Syria weaved within the people with a unity that many saw as unbreakable.

‘I was proud to be Syrian before, but not today. Look at what we have done to our country.’ As Abo Omar titters he proceeds to opening his Facebook on the cracked screen of his aged mobile. ‘Look, we even fight over what day the revolution began.’ he shows me the talks many have been indulging online about the date and origins of the revolution.

Abo Omar spent close to a year with the then Free Syrian Army, his commander and once friend from 10 years prior was whom he pledged his allegiance. They fought fierce battles to free Homs together, they wept together over their lost brothers in battle, and celebrated together over few minor victories they would achieve back then with what little weaponry they had.

‘I could not agree with him on many decisions, the first was when he wanted us to torture and kill prisoners we had from the army. I did not join the Free Syrian Army for this. I joined to protect my children, my country.’ Abo Omar had then decided that this would not be the continued path for him.

Abo Omar started working with others to help bring in medical supplies, food and other items urgently needed in the besieged city of Homs through dangerous smuggling routes across from Lebanon that was extremely limiting to what they could bring.

His then commander has gone on to become a Jabhat Al Nusra leader, now fronting battles for greater land and power.

The family depend on what little handouts they receive through locals working to help with food and clothing. They live on minimal water they share with 5 other families in the large home that was long abandoned with its true owners unknown. Families have each taken a room and made it their home as they wait; they do not even know what they are waiting for.

Marwa, Abo Omar’s wife, once a school teacher now spends her time trying to interest her children in education to occupy their minds. The boys do not go outside and do not attend the local mosque or schools that have been arranged by some which have been known to entice recruitment &a rather extremist teaching of Islam.
‘It is not safe for our children to go outside. They like to take boys their age and teach them very bad things. God willing something will happen soon so we can live in peace again.’ Marwa continues to tidy their small room as we talk to form a sense of normality in the discomfort of her obvious despair.

They do not hold passports, one of the biggest problems facing the people of Syria making it extremely difficult for them to travel, leaving them little opportunity. Abo Omar paid $3500 to obtain passports selling what little belongings they had after losing their eldest along with their home; part of that money was their wedding rings they sold; however like many from Syria they never saw these passports nor the people who they arranged the deal with.

‘What can we do? Beg on the streets of Turkey or Lebanon? What can we do? If I had the money I would even try to send my wife and children on the boat to Greece.’ Abo Omar pauses to sip his coffee to mask his shaky voice from the depth of emotion.
‘I had a small shop. Children would come after school and buy sweets. I was able to feed my own family, now look at us.’

4 years later and a country left predominantly in rubble. Millions of civilians are left with little to no voice; a voice veiled by the armed struggle in the country.

While this story is a simple one on some levels within the complexities of this war; it is however the largest story of the country, it is the story that vast numbers echo.

The voice of millions of civilians who are left displaced and with the branding of refugee is the voice that is off the true Syria and I give my life on it that this voice is a beautiful one of care, a kindness that cannot be found across the globe with ease, and it is a voice that deserves our human affection across the world.