What's a story without an ending?
I've been delaying and dreading finishing this for years. I haven't written anything about my life since 2014, simply because I've been trying so hard to forget, and move on.
After all these years, I finally realized that forgetting is not an option, and moving on is much harder than I ever thought.
It's July 31st, 2019. I'm in my bed in Istanbul, Turkey. A refugee all alone, in a beautiful city where he doesn't belong.
Seven years ago, I used to say that I'd rather die than become a refugee. I meant it then, and I still mean it now. Death is more merciful. However, suffer I had to, for some reason.
I won't go into details like I used to. I'll only write the notes that I kept, and I won't fill the blanks from my memory, since memories can't be trusted.
_____________________________________________
100 years of peace, vol: 2
The year is 2013. The location is a very crowded cell in a torture center in the Syrian capital, Damascus.
After several days of the worst treatment, beating, humiliation, malnourishment, lack of sleep, lack of medication, lack of hygiene, I had enough and asked the man in charge -whom I've never seen due to being blindfolded at all times when he's present- I asked him to pull his gun and kill me if he truly thinks I'm doing anything against the good of Syria. I did this trying to avoid more torture and pain. And it worked, kinda.
The last day of interrogation was the worst. It had no torture. Barely any beating. However it has the worst humiliation and threats. They threatened me with my elderly parents. They left me handcuffed, blindfolded, and on my knees for hours and hours. I couldn't know for how long but that was the worst time of my life by far.
Pain can be handled in some ways. But being left like that for God knows how long was unbearable. I nearly passed out several times but I pushed through. My mind keeping playing games on me. I heard things that I will have no idea if they were real or from my imagination. My knees hurt so much but the pain helped me stay sane.
After a long time, I was taken back to the cell, and told that my end was near. That they'll give me one more chance to "confess".
When I arrived at the cell, I could barely walk from the pain in my knees. My blindfolds were taken off but I still couldn't see. Or at least I couldn't process anything.
The cellmates took me and sat me down. Gave me water. Massaged my legs and my shoulders. They have been through this and they knew how I was feeling without me saying a word. They told me they were worried I was never coming back (many die under torture and don't go back).
The last session of interrogation was very different. I wasn't beat up. I wasn't humiliated. I wasn't forced to be on my knees since my knees literally couldn't hold me anymore. But I was still handcuffed and blindfolded.
They told me this is my last chance to confess. I told them I had nothing to confess. They asked me if I went on demonstrations, and I answered truthfully. I said yes. I didn't give many details. I told them about the first time. The very first demo in Homs. Where I was beat up in the street by security forces and had my nose broken, in March 2011.
They liked the story and changed it making it sound like the demonstrators were the ones who beat me.
I didn't say anything.
They made me sign five empty pages, which they filled themselves later with whatever they pleased. That was my signed "confession" that I still have no idea what it said.
Then they sent me back to the cell where I collapsed due to the lack of sleep or food for days. And I finally passed out for few hours.
Later, my name was said aloud, among others, to pick up ourselves and get ready to leave.
I was more than ready to leave. To go anywhere with soap. Food. Some empty floor to sleep on. Anything was better than this.
We were taken the same way we were brought in. Blindfolded and handcuffed. And we were taken to a different place where we will meet a judge.
I was very pleased with that, cause once I was out of that hell hole, I was able to bribe my way into getting into a cell that wasn't unbelievably crowded and crawling with diseases. I was able to pay the guards to bring me food. To charge my phone and let me call my mom for the first time since I was taken at the border.
I spent few days waiting to see a judge. They cost me a couple of hundreds of dollars. I had American dollars with me since I was on my way to Lebanon when I was taken by them.
I cleaned myself. Brushed my long hair. Used deodorant and cologne. Shaved my beard. That was all possible since they let me keep my bag with me, and I had everything I needed in it. Clean underwear and a change of clothes. I looked good according to my cellmates. Good for someone who spent his last well in a torture center that is.
We were taken yet to another place. My 4th cell.
The judge saw us 3 at a time. Asked me about my confession, and I told him I signed blank pages. That I had no idea what's written there. He asked me if I did anything beside going out on demonstrations, I said no. He said I was free to go.
The guards in this new place "congratulated" me, trying to get bribes. Bribes is all that matters. They all wanted to squeeze as much money from me as possible. Then they released me with a couple of others in Damascus.
I went to shop and bought new sunglasses to hold my hair, since the pair I had was broken when my bag was given to me.
I took a picture. And got on a bus back to Homs. And that was the last time I've been in Damascus.
_____________________________________________
The ISIS situation
A year went by, I spent it in Homs with my parents, healing, surviving, doing my best. I tried to fix the issue I had, since I was going to have to go through everything again if I tried to leave Syria, not that I was planning on leaving anyway, but I wished to feel a little bit safer.
Homs was changing fast. Assad has been winning big, with the help of all his allies. And I was far from happy about everything.
I was told than to fix my issue I needed to pay huge bribes which I couldn't afford. So I decided not to fix anything. Let things be. I'll just stay in Homs until the end. That was always my plan anyway. But now that I've asked around, certain people got hungry for the bribes and started threatening me. A person I've never met told another person that I know that they'll treat me as a wanted man if I don't pay up fast. They kept sending me warnings until I realized I had two choices:
1- Borrow the money and pay up and hope for the best.
2- Convince my parents to leave Syria to keep them safe, since I was told they will be targeted as well as me.
I went with option 2, but my parents said they wouldn't leave until I'm out of Syria. Which was quite a pickle.
I made some calls and found I man who said he can get me to Turkey through Raqqa (ISIS stronghold in 2014). He said he's been doing it for a long time and it works. He asked for money obviously. I said I'll pay when I'm there.
He picked me up from my home, I only took a small bag with me, had to leave everything behind, say goodbye to my mom and dad.
He knew all the security barrier guards, so none stopped us.
Assad's troops had made a deal with the rebels and the rebels were moved from Homs to Idlib a couple of days earlier. He drove to the rebel areas, and I saw the devastation. I've lived in Homs my hole life until that point, and I've seen destruction enough between 2011-2014, but what I saw that day was somehow worse than anything I've even seen.
And that was the last thing I saw in Homs. Absolute destruction.
He put me in a bus and left.
They told me to hide my passport well. And I did.
I was ready to end up in the torture center. Mentally and physically ready. I was wearing shorts under my jeans, to have options to wear, and not have to stay in my underwear like some people had to. I had a stupid phone with nothing inside it in case anyone searches it. I was ready.
The first security barrier between Homs and Palmyra was the worst. A guy asked me for a "travel document". I said I don't have one! I told him I'm in a bus that's going from one Syrian City to another, why would I need a travel document?
He said, come down and bring your bags.
I thought that was it. On my way down the bus driver whispered "give him a 1000 liras". So I did. And he told me to sit back down after taking the bribe.
The driver then told me to do the same on every security checkpoint. I'm glad I had the money.
The next (20?) Checkpoints straight up told everyone "Get your money ready, we're coming to pick them up". And one soldier would come in the bus and just collect all the bribes and let us go.
Then we reached Palmyra, or near it, where Assad troops are no more. And no more cellphone coverage. We were nearing ISIS territory. I was terrified.
For a while there was nothing but sand and the road, then we reached the very first ISIS security checkpoint. Two minutes prior, the bus people were getting ready. They hid their cigarette packs, and CDs. They sprayed air freshener to hide the smoking smell. They knew what was coming.
The ISIS security checkpoint was.. not what I expected. They weren't scary people. They were a bunch of nobodies. Skinny teens from East Asia and north Africa with their weapons and weird looking beards.
They were far from being intimidating.
A couple of checkpoints later and I realized that ISIS was really just a bunch of idiots who were allowed to get strong and spread wide. They could've been eradicated in weeks if the powers that be wanted that.
The bus people were making fun is the ISIS idiots between checkpoints. Playing music and smoking while they're not around.
And at every checkpoint there was a little hill of broken CDs and cigarettes.
It made me laugh thinking ISIS's number one enemy was music and tobacco. But I was glad I didn't have my smartphone that is always full of rock and roll and heavy metal. They would've chopped my head off if they've known what kind of music I like.
I spent few hours in Raqqa. I walked around, used a satellite internet connection to call my mom and let her know I made it there safely. I talked to the people, the Syrians under ISIS occupation, and they all said the same thing. ISIS was a joke. ISIS could've been dealt with before it spread and had fangs. They all told me how dumb all the ISIS people were, and that they were angry that the world allowed ISIS to exist.
ISIS weren't hiding. They had their main buildings painted with their colors. Everyone knew where the were. It would've been very easy to bomb them all, but for some reason world powers didn't want that. They wanted ISIS to grow bigger. I guess I know why. Letting an enemy seem like a much bigger deal than it actually is to gain support and scare the masses.
After that I went to a minibus that people take to the border, to reach Turkey. And that's where I had my worst ISIS experience.
A security checkpoint under the command of a Moroccan ISIS terrorist, one who was actually like the image of ISIS most people have in their minds. He took our IDs and actually tried recruiting all the men, saying that they're coming to Syria to take our place since we're leaving, and that we should instead join them. No one said a word. Obviously no one joined them.
He looked at me and I had a goatee (as I usually do), but I had to cut my hair cause I had a surgery on my head not long before that. He asked me directly "Which prophet had a goatee? Did any of them have one? If not then this is something that will send me to hell"
I was actually scared. An ISIS terrorist telling me my goatee will send me to hell. That's worrying. However, I have my moments where my wits kick in. And this was one of those rare moments.
I replied with "I was in Assad territory and they don't allow beards (truth) and that now I'm away from there I finally started growing one (a lie).
He let us go. And we were on our way North.
We reached the border but it was closed due to skirmishes. So we went west towards Aleppo. We reached it and went North from there. That was out of ISIS territory. And they will never be missed.
Now we started going from one area to another and see one flag after another. And none of them I can call mine.
From ISIS flag, to nusra flag, to ahrar Al sham flag etc. One armed bunch after another. I was very sad seeing Syria like this. Torn to pieces between all these terrorists. Starting with the biggest terrorists of all, the Assad regime, then ISIS then Al Nusra, etc.
Finally we reached the FSA area. Where I felt like a welcomed person for the first time in this trip, since the people there were from Homs. The same people who were evacuated from Homs not long ago. They let us pass very quickly and without any questions.
And just like that I was at the Syrian Turkish border. Me and thousands of people before me. It was a camp. And the border was closed. And no one knew when it'll be opened.
A long story short I made my way into Turkey, legally. I called my parents after getting a Turkish number to let them know I'm safe, so that they can catch a flight away from Syria, which they did.
And just like that I was out of Syria.
I would share more but I don't think anything after that matters.
The day I left Syria was the day I stopped living. And here we are.
I don't have the energy or mental capacity to read what I wrote or fix any typos or grammar mistakes, so please forgive me.
This has been my life.
This has been my truth.
This has been Big Al.
I've been delaying and dreading finishing this for years. I haven't written anything about my life since 2014, simply because I've been trying so hard to forget, and move on.
After all these years, I finally realized that forgetting is not an option, and moving on is much harder than I ever thought.
It's July 31st, 2019. I'm in my bed in Istanbul, Turkey. A refugee all alone, in a beautiful city where he doesn't belong.
Seven years ago, I used to say that I'd rather die than become a refugee. I meant it then, and I still mean it now. Death is more merciful. However, suffer I had to, for some reason.
I won't go into details like I used to. I'll only write the notes that I kept, and I won't fill the blanks from my memory, since memories can't be trusted.
_____________________________________________
100 years of peace, vol: 2
The year is 2013. The location is a very crowded cell in a torture center in the Syrian capital, Damascus.
After several days of the worst treatment, beating, humiliation, malnourishment, lack of sleep, lack of medication, lack of hygiene, I had enough and asked the man in charge -whom I've never seen due to being blindfolded at all times when he's present- I asked him to pull his gun and kill me if he truly thinks I'm doing anything against the good of Syria. I did this trying to avoid more torture and pain. And it worked, kinda.
The last day of interrogation was the worst. It had no torture. Barely any beating. However it has the worst humiliation and threats. They threatened me with my elderly parents. They left me handcuffed, blindfolded, and on my knees for hours and hours. I couldn't know for how long but that was the worst time of my life by far.
Pain can be handled in some ways. But being left like that for God knows how long was unbearable. I nearly passed out several times but I pushed through. My mind keeping playing games on me. I heard things that I will have no idea if they were real or from my imagination. My knees hurt so much but the pain helped me stay sane.
After a long time, I was taken back to the cell, and told that my end was near. That they'll give me one more chance to "confess".
When I arrived at the cell, I could barely walk from the pain in my knees. My blindfolds were taken off but I still couldn't see. Or at least I couldn't process anything.
The cellmates took me and sat me down. Gave me water. Massaged my legs and my shoulders. They have been through this and they knew how I was feeling without me saying a word. They told me they were worried I was never coming back (many die under torture and don't go back).
The last session of interrogation was very different. I wasn't beat up. I wasn't humiliated. I wasn't forced to be on my knees since my knees literally couldn't hold me anymore. But I was still handcuffed and blindfolded.
They told me this is my last chance to confess. I told them I had nothing to confess. They asked me if I went on demonstrations, and I answered truthfully. I said yes. I didn't give many details. I told them about the first time. The very first demo in Homs. Where I was beat up in the street by security forces and had my nose broken, in March 2011.
They liked the story and changed it making it sound like the demonstrators were the ones who beat me.
I didn't say anything.
They made me sign five empty pages, which they filled themselves later with whatever they pleased. That was my signed "confession" that I still have no idea what it said.
Then they sent me back to the cell where I collapsed due to the lack of sleep or food for days. And I finally passed out for few hours.
Later, my name was said aloud, among others, to pick up ourselves and get ready to leave.
I was more than ready to leave. To go anywhere with soap. Food. Some empty floor to sleep on. Anything was better than this.
We were taken the same way we were brought in. Blindfolded and handcuffed. And we were taken to a different place where we will meet a judge.
I was very pleased with that, cause once I was out of that hell hole, I was able to bribe my way into getting into a cell that wasn't unbelievably crowded and crawling with diseases. I was able to pay the guards to bring me food. To charge my phone and let me call my mom for the first time since I was taken at the border.
I spent few days waiting to see a judge. They cost me a couple of hundreds of dollars. I had American dollars with me since I was on my way to Lebanon when I was taken by them.
I cleaned myself. Brushed my long hair. Used deodorant and cologne. Shaved my beard. That was all possible since they let me keep my bag with me, and I had everything I needed in it. Clean underwear and a change of clothes. I looked good according to my cellmates. Good for someone who spent his last well in a torture center that is.
We were taken yet to another place. My 4th cell.
The judge saw us 3 at a time. Asked me about my confession, and I told him I signed blank pages. That I had no idea what's written there. He asked me if I did anything beside going out on demonstrations, I said no. He said I was free to go.
The guards in this new place "congratulated" me, trying to get bribes. Bribes is all that matters. They all wanted to squeeze as much money from me as possible. Then they released me with a couple of others in Damascus.
I went to shop and bought new sunglasses to hold my hair, since the pair I had was broken when my bag was given to me.
I took a picture. And got on a bus back to Homs. And that was the last time I've been in Damascus.
_____________________________________________
The ISIS situation
A year went by, I spent it in Homs with my parents, healing, surviving, doing my best. I tried to fix the issue I had, since I was going to have to go through everything again if I tried to leave Syria, not that I was planning on leaving anyway, but I wished to feel a little bit safer.
Homs was changing fast. Assad has been winning big, with the help of all his allies. And I was far from happy about everything.
I was told than to fix my issue I needed to pay huge bribes which I couldn't afford. So I decided not to fix anything. Let things be. I'll just stay in Homs until the end. That was always my plan anyway. But now that I've asked around, certain people got hungry for the bribes and started threatening me. A person I've never met told another person that I know that they'll treat me as a wanted man if I don't pay up fast. They kept sending me warnings until I realized I had two choices:
1- Borrow the money and pay up and hope for the best.
2- Convince my parents to leave Syria to keep them safe, since I was told they will be targeted as well as me.
I went with option 2, but my parents said they wouldn't leave until I'm out of Syria. Which was quite a pickle.
I made some calls and found I man who said he can get me to Turkey through Raqqa (ISIS stronghold in 2014). He said he's been doing it for a long time and it works. He asked for money obviously. I said I'll pay when I'm there.
He picked me up from my home, I only took a small bag with me, had to leave everything behind, say goodbye to my mom and dad.
He knew all the security barrier guards, so none stopped us.
Assad's troops had made a deal with the rebels and the rebels were moved from Homs to Idlib a couple of days earlier. He drove to the rebel areas, and I saw the devastation. I've lived in Homs my hole life until that point, and I've seen destruction enough between 2011-2014, but what I saw that day was somehow worse than anything I've even seen.
And that was the last thing I saw in Homs. Absolute destruction.
He put me in a bus and left.
They told me to hide my passport well. And I did.
I was ready to end up in the torture center. Mentally and physically ready. I was wearing shorts under my jeans, to have options to wear, and not have to stay in my underwear like some people had to. I had a stupid phone with nothing inside it in case anyone searches it. I was ready.
The first security barrier between Homs and Palmyra was the worst. A guy asked me for a "travel document". I said I don't have one! I told him I'm in a bus that's going from one Syrian City to another, why would I need a travel document?
He said, come down and bring your bags.
I thought that was it. On my way down the bus driver whispered "give him a 1000 liras". So I did. And he told me to sit back down after taking the bribe.
The driver then told me to do the same on every security checkpoint. I'm glad I had the money.
The next (20?) Checkpoints straight up told everyone "Get your money ready, we're coming to pick them up". And one soldier would come in the bus and just collect all the bribes and let us go.
Then we reached Palmyra, or near it, where Assad troops are no more. And no more cellphone coverage. We were nearing ISIS territory. I was terrified.
For a while there was nothing but sand and the road, then we reached the very first ISIS security checkpoint. Two minutes prior, the bus people were getting ready. They hid their cigarette packs, and CDs. They sprayed air freshener to hide the smoking smell. They knew what was coming.
The ISIS security checkpoint was.. not what I expected. They weren't scary people. They were a bunch of nobodies. Skinny teens from East Asia and north Africa with their weapons and weird looking beards.
They were far from being intimidating.
A couple of checkpoints later and I realized that ISIS was really just a bunch of idiots who were allowed to get strong and spread wide. They could've been eradicated in weeks if the powers that be wanted that.
The bus people were making fun is the ISIS idiots between checkpoints. Playing music and smoking while they're not around.
And at every checkpoint there was a little hill of broken CDs and cigarettes.
It made me laugh thinking ISIS's number one enemy was music and tobacco. But I was glad I didn't have my smartphone that is always full of rock and roll and heavy metal. They would've chopped my head off if they've known what kind of music I like.
I spent few hours in Raqqa. I walked around, used a satellite internet connection to call my mom and let her know I made it there safely. I talked to the people, the Syrians under ISIS occupation, and they all said the same thing. ISIS was a joke. ISIS could've been dealt with before it spread and had fangs. They all told me how dumb all the ISIS people were, and that they were angry that the world allowed ISIS to exist.
ISIS weren't hiding. They had their main buildings painted with their colors. Everyone knew where the were. It would've been very easy to bomb them all, but for some reason world powers didn't want that. They wanted ISIS to grow bigger. I guess I know why. Letting an enemy seem like a much bigger deal than it actually is to gain support and scare the masses.
After that I went to a minibus that people take to the border, to reach Turkey. And that's where I had my worst ISIS experience.
A security checkpoint under the command of a Moroccan ISIS terrorist, one who was actually like the image of ISIS most people have in their minds. He took our IDs and actually tried recruiting all the men, saying that they're coming to Syria to take our place since we're leaving, and that we should instead join them. No one said a word. Obviously no one joined them.
He looked at me and I had a goatee (as I usually do), but I had to cut my hair cause I had a surgery on my head not long before that. He asked me directly "Which prophet had a goatee? Did any of them have one? If not then this is something that will send me to hell"
I was actually scared. An ISIS terrorist telling me my goatee will send me to hell. That's worrying. However, I have my moments where my wits kick in. And this was one of those rare moments.
I replied with "I was in Assad territory and they don't allow beards (truth) and that now I'm away from there I finally started growing one (a lie).
He let us go. And we were on our way North.
We reached the border but it was closed due to skirmishes. So we went west towards Aleppo. We reached it and went North from there. That was out of ISIS territory. And they will never be missed.
Now we started going from one area to another and see one flag after another. And none of them I can call mine.
From ISIS flag, to nusra flag, to ahrar Al sham flag etc. One armed bunch after another. I was very sad seeing Syria like this. Torn to pieces between all these terrorists. Starting with the biggest terrorists of all, the Assad regime, then ISIS then Al Nusra, etc.
Finally we reached the FSA area. Where I felt like a welcomed person for the first time in this trip, since the people there were from Homs. The same people who were evacuated from Homs not long ago. They let us pass very quickly and without any questions.
And just like that I was at the Syrian Turkish border. Me and thousands of people before me. It was a camp. And the border was closed. And no one knew when it'll be opened.
A long story short I made my way into Turkey, legally. I called my parents after getting a Turkish number to let them know I'm safe, so that they can catch a flight away from Syria, which they did.
And just like that I was out of Syria.
I would share more but I don't think anything after that matters.
The day I left Syria was the day I stopped living. And here we are.
I don't have the energy or mental capacity to read what I wrote or fix any typos or grammar mistakes, so please forgive me.
This has been my life.
This has been my truth.
This has been Big Al.
