Chapter Five: Escalation

July 13^th, I did my first wall job, I took a can of black paint and emptied it on the walls of two schools.

July 16^th, a mini war happened in my street. Armed security forces attacked us after the demo and we had to secure the streets and fight them with rocks to cover our escape.

July 18^th, my neighborhood got attacked viciously, and many building were hit.

July 19^th, I couldn’t find a single store opened since there was a strike after many people died on the 18^th.

I didn’t write about earlier strikes or attacks because I am not sure about the exact dates in May and June in general. I didn’t take many photos and videos those two months, therefore I am not going to list anything I’m not 100% sure about.

July 27^th, another can of black paint was used on the walls of schools by me, and the things I wrote in English are untouched until this day.

Ramadan has arrived, and I lost a friend on its first day. RIP Adnan Abduldayem, In Ramadan, I started, like many others, to go on two or even three demos every day. It was a good month demo wise, but it was a bad month as I lost many friends in it.

We used to start the day with a demo in the very early morning, but I rarely joined this one. The second daily demo used to take place around 4-5 PM, then the major demo after Tarawih prayer. Young men from Inshaat, Hamra, and Ghouta used to gather in my neighborhood every night. We used to secure the streets and stay out till midnight sometimes. It felt great and we felt that the end was near.

I lost 4 friends that month, one of them was delivered a dead body to his family on August 14^th, and that night we did a major demo and a sit-down near his house. RIP Jamal Fatwa. This was a night I will never forget. We all gathered in front of his house and stayed there till midnight. There were thousands of us and no security forces at all, and we changed the signs of Granada Highschool to Jamal Fatwa Highschool as it is near his house.

I lost a friend who was working with the Red Cross. He was killed inside an ambulance on his way to help injured people, and I wrote a little poem about him when I heard his news. RIP Hakam Drak Sibai.

“Eleven bullets to that who wants to help

Eleven bullets, just to make sure, that he’s got the message right

You can’t save them, not from us

So you might as well quit the fight

We don’t care if you’re young or old

We don’t care if you’re big or small

We don’t care if you’re black or white, rich or poor

You’re all the same in our eyes

You’re all.. Nothing

And that you shall remain.”

September was a really bad month for me, I lost hope and got super depressed and that’s why I did not document anything. I tweeted what happened in that month when I could and I will leave it at that. The one major thing happened around me was watching a young man get shot right in front of me, he fell down and he was dead. All I remember is the numb feeling I had afterwards. I still don’t know the name of that guy. May he rest in peace.

By the end of September I went to Lebanon for a couple of days after being warned that I might get arrested again, and to try to cheer up a bit, but the day I got to Beirut, I got a call and I was told that my neighborhood got attacked viciously and there were explosions for the first time in my street. My parents were terrified but they didn’t get harmed. That trip was ruined.

I spent the first couple of days of December in Damascus, but got even more depressed when I woke up every day to chants from schools parsing Bashar Assad. Such chants couldn’t be heard in Homs in months.

October 9^th, my house gets attacked for no reason and a bullet breaks my window and ends up on my bed when I wasn’t in it. I kept the bullet and I will make a necklace out of it someday. You know, what doesn’t kill you… That’s when we all knew that we’re not safe even inside out home. No place is safe anymore, as long Assad’s regime is still in charge.

Nothing much happened in October afterwards, my neighborhood was getting quieter as the security forces began shooting at people more often.

November came along and my neighborhood was surrounded with security forces barriers from all corners, they were always around and they didn’t let us do not one decent demo. They always show up moments after we start and it always ends up the same way, we run and they chase us with their cars and shoot in the air. I hurt my foot running away from a security car but I was not caught. Then again, a security forces’ car used a sound bomb near me and my ear was all messed up for a week after.

Also in November, the military fighter jets started roaming the skies of Homs almost every day between 1:30 and 5:00 AM. They could be heard clearly from most parts of the city.

November 20^th, I joined an afternoon demo in Hamra which was almost entirely men free. It was an all girls demo, I obviously stayed behind the girls, but I sure took and shared some photos of the demo, and chanted with them. It was one of the most beautiful demos I’ve seen. No security forces whatsoever.

I started to get my faith back in November, and I decided I should be more active than ever. More demos, more news covering, and more wall painting.

December 8^th, a huge black cloud covered the sky of Homs. I tried to go near it but couldn’t. I had this weird feeling that day, I felt that things were about to get worse. Much worse.

December 13^th, news came from Damascus about a fifth friend of mine being murdered by the security forces. He too was a nice guy. Why is it always the nice one who end up dead?

December 23^rd, I went in a demo around 2 PM and it ended badly when security forces attacked us and started shooting at us, we hid behind the dumpsters and the walls of a nearby house, then they started chasing us and shooting more, that’s when I headed home around 3 PM, only to find that there was no electricity, water, or internet connection there. We never had such a day in my neighborhood before.

December 24^th, it was Friday, we went in a demo and security forces attacked us after only a couple of minutes, we started moving as they were shooting at us and coming our way, then a car showed up, 5 men came out of it and started defending us, they had guns and started shooting in the air to scare the security forces, and that did work, the security forces stopped and didn’t come any closer, we all left and the men got into their car and left the scene and no one got hurt, and that was the first time I personally see members of the Free Syrian Army. God bless them. This day is the day of the first two bombings in Damascus where many were killed, the regime blamed Al Qaida. We all knew it was the regime who did this since we’ve never ever had a problem with Al Qaida before, and because the regime has been calling us “armed gangs” and “terrorists” for months, when we’re all peaceful protestors being killed by the regime itself.

December 27^th, what a day, I joined a huge demo near Omar Bin Khattab mosque and went all the way through Ghouta and Kurnich and ended up in Khaldieh. There were tens of thousands. TV said there were 70.000 people, but I think they were over a 100. On our way back we decided to go through Freedom Square (New Clock) and that’s when security forces decided to shoot at us and attack us with tear gas bombs. Many were hurt, and I saw 3 people seriously injured. My cousins and friends were in the demo as well, but I couldn’t find any of them as it was a really huge demo. This demo was the biggest since Ramadan.

The year 2011 is now over, but out fight for freedom sure isn’t. I hoped that we can get our freedom in 2011 like Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, and Yemen, and when this didn’t happen, I declared 2012 as the year of freedom. We will continue until the end, and I’m very certain we will get what we want.

A new year and a new chapter start now.

Chapter Four: March 15th The first taste of freedom

February 22^nd2011, I went online and found some people talking about starting a revolution in Syria like what happened in four other Arab countries. We got a huge push from what we saw in Libya, and I thought if Libyans stood up to Gaddafi, we too can do it. Let this begin.

In March, I talked to various people via twitter about a date to start a revolution in Syria. Some of them were in Syria, and some were outside, but we all knew that the start will be small and difficult. We knew that we, the first ones, will be completely suicidal by going out in a demo, and we knew we won’t get many people on the first day like they did in Egypt. We used the hash tag #Syria and kept our names secret.

I suggested a certain date but we agreed on March 15^th, and we started a campaign on twitter and many joined the newly opened revolution’s Facebook page (I wasn’t a part of the Facebook campaign as I rarely use Facebook). The Egyptian freedom fighters helped a lot on twitter, they gave us tips from their experience. Now, it’s March 12^th, and I still have not found anyone in Homs to go out with me. My family members are all outside of Homs, and my friends.. well, let me just say that my friends weren’t that optimistic yet, and I couldn’t blame them.

March 15^th, it has started. I left my house around 10 AM, I went online and I was contacting people on twitter (I remember @SyrRevo, @Layal_Mhm, and others) trying to get info about the first demo in Homs. Someone mentioned Khalid Bin Alwalid mosque, so I went there for Duhr prayer, I went out and stood there waiting for someone to join me, no one came, nothing happened. People here had no idea.

I went back to the internet café and asked about Homs, no one in Homs but me was using twitter apparently, and I couldn’t access Facebook using my proxies. I only had one Homsi friend in twitter and I didn’t know what side he’s on, so I had to block him for awhile (Sorry @Abbudy, hope we’re cool bro!) I unblocked him afterwards of course.

I finally got some news about the first demo in Damascus, and I got a small video.

I shared the video with everyone I know, and I kept tweeting and spreading the video with the hash tags like they did in Egypt. Again, many Egyptians helped me and we got some serious flow in twitter. The government didn’t have a clue about twitter at the time. I even contacted some celebrities in twitter asking them to give us a push and a “Good Luck” and some of them did.

March 17^th, Dara and Homs joined Damascus. Tens went after the prayer from Khalid Bin Walid mosque and chanted for freedom. It didn’t last long and I couldn’t catch up as I live far away from that mosque.

March 18^th, I went to Khalid Bin Walid early so I wouldn’t miss anything, but no demo happened. There were many security forces’ vehicles and members, I took photos and spread them online.

March 19^th, the same as March 18^th.

March 24^th, Khalid Bin Walid Mosque is closed and no prayer will happen there on the 25^th. Many people died in Dara last week and Homs was about to go big.

March 25^th, I was near Khalid Bin Walid before the prayer, I saw the security forces getting ready, I walked among them, talked to them, and ate falafel with them (From the stand in front of Nice Price). They told me they were brought there to help near Khalid Bin Walid mosque if anything happens. I noticed that they’re all young men with no education or careers, they do what they’re told because they don’t know better.

I was able to bring some people to Omar Bin Khattab mosque to join in a demo, but I decided to visit a couple of mosques by the end of the prayer to try to get people to go out, and it wasn’t a mission impossible since mosques in Homs don’t start the prayer at the exact same time. You can easily pray in Khalid Bin Walid then drive to Droubi mosque before the latter starts the prayer, and then Omar Bin Khattab…

I saw many people ready near Khalid Bin Walid, they didn’t pray in it cause as I said earlier it was closed down, but there is a smaller mosque not far away from it, so after the prayer people paired up and walked toward Khalid Bin Walid mosque and around City Center, they were standing and waiting for something to happen there,  I went into a pharmacy there and bought some meds just so I have a small bag with me in case security forces ask me what am I doing there. I walked to some people and told them to go to the New Clock square and wait there and asked them to spread the word. It was very scary talking to strangers about this, so I didn’t use any words like “Demo, or revolution..” I simply told them stuff like “Try near the New Clock” or “Nothing to see here, maybe near the New Clock”.

I took a taxi to Abdulhamid Droubi mosque and as I approached, many were already on the stairs chanting for the martyrs in Dara” بالروح بالدم نفديك يا شهيد” “We would sacrifice our souls and blood for the martyrs”. I asked the driver “What are they saying?” to see his response. He answered “بالروح بالدم نفديك اسرائيل” which means: “We sacrifice our souls and blood for Israel”, and from his answer I knew he was one of the bad guys, so I asked him to take me to Hamra Street. It was a nice surprise to see people going out on their own in Droubi mosque. Anyway, I arrived Omar Bin Khattab mosque as they finished the prayer, and a big demo went out, I joined in with a huge smile on my face. My mom didn’t believe anything would happen that day, so I rushed before the demo, went home which is on our way, told my mom to listen and look out, then rejoined the demo. We walked our way to Dablan Street, and I decided to go back and shoot a video of the demo. I did so, then I was about to rejoin them when I saw a man walking behind me. He called someone on his cell phone and asked him for backup in Dablan Street. He called him General “سيدي العميد”

Two station cars arrived moments after and parked in the middle of the street near Al Asi ice cream shop, the drivers were in security forces uniforms, and the rest were dressed in casual clothes, I went in a near street and started taking a video of them from behind without them seeing me. They had wooden sticks in their hands. After they went towards the demo -which arrived to the New Clock Square-, two women started yelling at one of the drivers, asking him to leave the demo alone. He started shouting back and pushing them, I took that on video and waved at the women to move on. I turned my back only to see a third station car stopping behind me and 7-9 young men with wooden sticks came at me and started beating me without saying a word. I was all alone and couldn’t do anything at all. They broke my nose, and hurt my head. They kicked me and beat me for about 12 minutes then left me lying there after my face was covered in blood. They took my phone and my ID, they asked me if I was Syrian, and why was I taking a video, and I replied with “Do I look Iranian to you? Of course I’m Syrian” then they gave the phone back after they couldn’t unlock the screen, then followed the other ones, I asked the one who has my ID and was still around about it, he then gave it to me and apologized. He said that his friends are stupid and he told me to leave and take care of myself, he was a decent guy really, I admit it. I turned around and started walking away when I saw people watching me from their balcony, I touched my face with my hands so they got all bloody, I looked at them and showed them the blood, and said “Did you witness that? Do you approve of that? What are you gonna do about it?” I walked back home after this beating, took a shower, and went to bed. I woke up with a very sore body and a blue color under my left eye.

I didn’t feel real pain until I woke up, I obviously took some painkillers before I went to bed.

Anyway, after I woke up I noticed that there were bruises all over my back and my right shoulder, my nose was broken as I said earlier, and my head was cut open in two places. I have photos of all that but I wouldn’t post them because they’re not pretty.

Two or three hours after, my friends called me, they asked me if I can meet them, and they came and pick me up, we decided to go to Tartus to see what is happening there, and to sit by the sea and relax, as the sea always makes me feel much better.

We drove around in Homs and many streets were closed down by security forces, I had my sunglasses on to cover the color under my eye and my messed up nose. We went to Tartus and there was a big pro march there, they all had photos of Assad and they were singing and dancing in the streets. I never felt so angry, they’re cheering for those who attacked me and broke my nose not 5 hours ago. At that moment I knew that our revolution will take a much longer time than I expected.

I went to a doctor the next day and he fixed my nose and gave me some pills.

The marks of this beating didn’t disappear from my face until April 27^th.

After the beating I took on March 25^th (10^th day of the revolution), I had to take a break from going out in demos, I even took a break from going online. I deleted my twitter account after I knew that it has been linked to me and being watched.

A massacre happened in Homs on April 17^th, the day after we went to bury the martyrs, and the funeral turned into a huge demo that ended up in the biggest square in Homs (New Clock Square). We gathered there around noon and people started coming from all over the city to join. The streets to that square were secured by metal trash cans and other objects, and groups of us started guarding the streets. We learned what to do from the Egyptians in Tahrir Square, and so it began. The first real sit-down in Syria. There were more than 150,000 people in that square, and we brought big banners, lights, and even tents to the square. Security forces did not get involve. The streets to the square were all guarded as I said and everyone who comes in the square gets checked for weapons to keep the square safe.

The crowds felt safe there and the chants from this sit-down could be heard from all around the city. It was a mini Tahrir Square in the middle of Homs, and it felt great. This was the first time I felt freedom, real freedom. I could say whatever I want to say and I wasn’t afraid. Not being afraid was a new feeling for me, and for everyone there. I walked among the crowds and saw the happiness in their eyes. It was an epic sit-down.

That was when I knew that people in Homs would never give up their rights anymore, they will never go back to how they were. Homs is now the “land of the free”.

People started to send water and food for us, drinks and fruits as well, everyone was happy this happened, and I was a bit chocked that we actually pulled it off.

When it got a little dark I started walking around to check for snipers since there were government buildings in that area, but I didn’t find any. I got a call about security forces vehicles coming our way and that they were near the Old Clock square. I went there and saw many security forces armed men just standing there. I knew that they won’t let us spend the night there. Short after that a warning was given to us to empty the square (It was about 9:30 PM as I recall) but of course we didn’t move. We changed the name of that square that day calling it Freedom Square.

Night came and there were about 50,000 left in the square, and most of them knew that the regime won’t let this have a happy ending. The regime couldn’t afford a sit-down in a major city like Homs. The total number of people who went there and joined is a much bigger number as I saw people coming and going all the time, I think hundreds of thousands went there but they didn’t stay long.

The weather was good and that helped us stay there, but warnings kept coming and they were serious.

Around midnight, there were only 7,000 – 10,000 people in the square, and I think there were only 5000 when the security forces attacked.

The attack was around 2 AM, and it was a vicious one. They started shooting directly at us, they didn’t care about anything. Tear gas bombs were everywhere and they started arresting people.

The shooting didn’t stop after we all left, as they were celebrating their “victory”. The regime’s security forces freed that square from us, they won over their own people. It was such a sad and ugly view. They danced with their guns on our blood, they burnt our banners and signs, they chanted for the dictator and against the people. They spread their hateful mottos on the walls and destroyed the shop windows in that area including the banks.

The things they did can still be seen when walking by that square, as some of the mottos are still visible and the banks had to use ugly wooden windows instead of the broken glass ones.

I went home that night and cried. I knew there will be many more deaths and that the regime doesn’t care if we all die. It was a horrible ending for a good day.

I remember that I was so excited about the huge sit-down that day I tweeted a pic from it using the account that I use with my real name since my other account was deactivated earlier.

After that day, some people in Bab Al Dreib made a small replica of the New Clock and used it in their demos, and then people in Khaldieh made a bigger and better replica to symbolize that we will go back to that square soon, and you can still see the latter one in the daily demos in that neighborhood.

April 19^th, I was captured from the street and taken to a place where they questioned me for 4 hours, then let me go. I have no idea why this happened but I got through. I didn’t tell my family about this incident yet because it will only make them worry more.

The questions they asked me were silly, they asked if I had a weapon, or if I received money from outside the country. They asked if I got any calls from Lebanon or if I had any relatives in prison. The man who interrogated me was wearing pajamas and no shoes in his office. I did not see anyone being held there, and I am not sure exactly where I was.

In April, many new places joined the revolution, villages and cities that I never heard of were with us, names of people I didn’t know started to appear, and lots of new faces. Good ones and bad ones. The Syrian regime said that what’s happening will be over very soon, and some people actually believed that. Some of the people I knew started to have doubts after they heard that, but they still got faith.

In May, I got my health back completely and started going out in demos again, my neighborhood was still quiet, so I started going to other places whenever I could. Demos in Bab Al Sibaa were my favorite ones, people there were so tough and they were organized. I also went in Inshaat where I saw many of my friends and in Baba Amr where I knew no one.

After people burnt and destroyed many big photos of Bashar and Hafez Assad in Homs in the previous months, there were still a couple that I see every day. I hated that so much, so my friends and I went out and burnt them all. We failed to burn the one near the Cultural center and my friends got his fingers burnt while trying, while I was shooting the video, but he went a couple of days after that and threw a paint balloon on it and that did it. He went alone when he did it but he took a picture of it. They painted the Syrian flag over it the very next day.

In June, my neighborhood was on fire, and demos were happening every day now. I didn’t always stay in my neighborhood because I don’t like sticking to one area. I probably went in demos in most areas of Homs during June, and some of them ended with the protestors and the security forces throwing rocks at each other. There were no shooting in some neighborhoods yet, security forces came in buses with only black sticks. That all changed in no time.

Ramadan is coming soon, and we all agreed that we need to take the demos to a new level.

2011, What a year!

One year ago today, I thought to myself “This is gonna be one dull year”. Oh how wrong I was.

2011, what a year!

This past year was filled with events, good and bad ones, and most of those events were quite shocking really.

The Arab Spring, the royal wedding, the American military leaving Iraq, the death of Steve Jobs, the assassination of Osama Bin Laden, the death of Kim Jong-il, the recognition of the State of Palestine in Unesco, Occupy Wall street and then Occupy everything else all over the world, the demos in Russia, the economy crisis, the earthquake in Japan, and the list goes on and on..

I personally know for a fact that the major event in 2011 was the Arab Spring, Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Yemen, and Syria. Four of those are almost over and one is still going hard. Let’s not forget about Bahrain as well. Still, I wouldn’t call 2011 “The Year of the Arab Spring” nor “The Year of The Protestor”. I have a different name for it. I declare 2011 as “The Year of Bad Men”.

Yes, bad men. They were a major part of 2011 and I will list the most recognized names below:

1-      Ratko Mladić: After many years of searching, they finally found him and started prosecuting him. This bad man is responsible for crimes against humanity in Bosnia.

2-      Laurent Gbagbo: The dictator of the Ivory Coast has too been captured and sent to be prosecuted.

3-      Zine El Abidine Ben Ali: The dictator of Tunisia, his regime fell apart in the Arab Spring and he is currently hiding in Saudi Arabia.

4-      Hosni Mubarak: The dictator of Egypt, his regime fell apart in the Arab Spring as well and he is currently held in prison and is being persecuted in Egypt with his sons.

5-      Muammar Gaddafi: The dictator of Libya, he was killed by the Libyan freedom fighters and his sons were either killed or captured or ran away.

6-      Ali Saleh: The dictator of Yemen, he signed an agreement and left the presidency but in exchange he got an immunity. He almost got killed earlier in an assassination attempt.

7-      Osama Bin Laden: The number one terrorist in the world. He was assassinated by the US seals after hiding in Pakistan for more than 10 years.

8-      Kim Jong-il: The dictator of North Korea, he died and his son took over the presidency after him.

Of course there are many other bad men who died or were killed or captured in 2011, but those eight were the most important ones in my book. I certainly hope I’ll put a similar list in 2012 with names like Bashar Assad, Castro, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Nouri al-Maliki, and Kim Jong-Un. Let’s keep cleansing the world of these parasites and not give a chance to others to come along and ruin the world for us.

Chapter Three: The Arab Spring.

In 2009, the Iranian people went to the streets peacefully and protested against the results of the presidential election. Security forces attacked them, killed and arrested many of them, and it was soon over. Twitter was a major weapon in the Iranians’ hands. They spread their news online and made the world realize what’s going on even thought there was no media coverage from any news channel or reporter. That was the beginning of something big that will change the entire area, but no one knew back in 2009 how big this thing really will be.

The Iranians failed to do any change, but where they failed the Tunisian succeeded.

The year is 2011, things have been moving fast for a while in Tunisia. They ended 2010 with demonstrations and started the New Year in the streets. A young man burnt himself to open everyone’s eyes on how bad things were. Many reacted. People went to the streets and demanded change.

In January 2011, I went to Egypt to visit a friend and see the beautiful country. I was in Cairo when Bin Ali flew from Tunisia and the Arab Spring started. I woke up the day Bin Ali left Tunisia and was having breakfast in my hotel where I heard Egyptians talking about going in the streets, and whether it will work in Egypt like it did in Tunisia. Every Egyptian I met during that visit was complaining about the government and the bad economy. Some of them actually said “You Syrians are lucky, Bashar Assad is great and you all love him” I replied with “Bashar Assad is the worst man on Earth and we all hate him, we’re just too afraid to show it”. Yes, Egyptians thought we loved Assad, most people around the world thought so too, just like some of us thought that Libyans loved Gaddafi. How wrong we all were.

A couple of days after I came back to Syria, January 25^th came along and I saw the streets I was walking in few days ago being filled with protestors. I followed their news online when the internet was working there, my family and I, like all Syrians, were sitting in front of the TV watching Al Jazeera waiting for Mubarak to step down. February 11^th felt so far away, and how happy we were when Mubarak was finished. The tiny light of hope in every Syrian’s heart tripled. Tunisia did it. Egypt did it. It is possible!

Until that day I was terrified, I thought that what happened in Tunisia and Egypt can never happen in countries like Syria and Libya. I knew that Gaddafi and Assad were alike, and that they were different from Mubarak and Bin Ali.

Yemen and Libya followed. I was shocked to see people in Libya going out on February 17^th, but when I saw what Gaddafi did, and how his security forces replied, I knew I wasn’t all wrong. He is a murderer, and the Libyans sure showed unbelievable courage facing him. They showed me that they’re so much stronger and so much braver than I thought they were. They stood to Gaddafi. And that did it. That’s when I knew that everything is possible, and that we are next.

Tunisia and Egypt were the first to go, and they didn’t take much time. People died, but Bin Ali and Mubarak gave up fast. Good. Now let’s see Yemen and Libya.

Ali Saleh, what a horrible human being. I never thought anyone can lie and cheat like this. He’s been promising to step down for months. And month after month, he keeps promising things that he never delivered. Someone tried to kill him, he’s become a human toast, yet he’s still lying and cheating. He finally signed the papers in Saudi Arabia, and he’s no longer active president. His regime isn’t over, but maybe things will pick up soon. It will take time to make a complete transaction to a democratic regime, and he might get away with what he did and the money he stole in the past 30 years. Not many people died in Yemen, so I think it might work. Let’s wait and see.

Egyptians didn’t finish either, the rest of the regime is still in charge of things there, but the elections are going smoothly, and that gives me hope for a better tomorrow for all Egyptians. Things will get better there, I know it.

Gaddafi declared war on his people, and lost. He got a bullet in his head and that’s exactly what he deserved. His sons are either killed, captured, or ran away. They did this to themselves. The stolen money is back. Libya will be fine. Many died and many injured. We did not hope for this. But Libya will rise and become greater than ever. The Libyans did it. They overcame the dictator. One of the worst men in history got defeated, but it coasted too much. May God help Libya and the Libyans to get a better and brighter future.

After Tunisia and Egypt, Libya and Yemen, Syria is the only one left. My beautiful Syria. My sad Syria. So let me start telling you all about it.

Chapter Two: A new era, a new hope

Chapter Two: A new era, a new hope.

The year is 2000. I have more than two lousy channels on my TV now. A couple of Lebanese channels can be caught by our antenna, and for that I was grateful.

One day I was watching TV, and suddenly, the Lebanese channel I was watching stopped its programs and started airing Classical music. I changed the channel, all Lebanese channels switched to either classical music or Quran. Someone died. Someone important. The Syrian channels were airing the usual programs. Someone important in Lebanon must’ve died then.

I ran and told my family “Someone important in Lebanon died and I’m not sure who it is yet”.

I went back to check if there’s an announcement, but there wasn’t anything yet. Then the Syrian channels stopped their programs. My heart skipped a beat. It happened. I knew it happened before they say anything. Hafez Assad is dead. They announced it. I froze.

I told my family and they didn’t believe me. “Hafez Assad can’t die” my mom said in shock.

We gathered in front of the TV. It’s over. The dictator is dead. Bassel, his son, died a couple of years ago. Is this over? Are we finally free of this family? Could this be real?

When Bassel Assad died, the entire city was forced to close down. People couldn’t get bread or any food for days. That’s why when Hafez Assad died everyone went out to buy food. A car parked under our house and sold bread. The price was 60 pounds instead of 15 (or was it 10? I’m not sure). Then everybody went home. The streets were empty. No one knew what will happen next.

The day Hafez Assad died, the parliament decided to change something in the constitution. They all approved on changing the age of the president to be 34. Why? How? No one knew. It took them half an hour to change the constitution. It was so weird and so illegal lawyers told me.

Bashar Assad. We had no idea that he existed before Hafez’s death.

A tall stranger came along, his name was Bashar. He is a doctor, they said.

He didn’t touch his father’s coffin. He didn’t help. He didn’t know how to pray before the burial. He seemed emotionless, and completely useless. He just took over. He’s the new president.

What a letdown. A man we never saw before is taking over the presidency. Inheriting it. Syria has become a kingdom under the name of Syria Al Assad. Syria, my Syria, was given a last name.

We now have a new president. He spoke at the parliament, and it was horrible. He can’t read well, he can’t speak well, how is he going to lead?

We started hearing news about this new guy, that he’s well educated, and that he’s been studying in England. He speaks three languages. Maybe he is different. We sure hoped so.

Personally, I have just finished high school, and was looking forward to college.

I went to a camp called Bolt “Sa3ika” where we were treated like soldiers, and for what? To get extra grades so I can get a better major in college. I won’t start on our educational system now because it will take an entire book to explain how bad it is. Anyway, in this camp, we were introduced to new mottos, really bad ones that would kill any hope left in a free man’s heart. The worst one was: “الى الأبد الى الأبد أسد ورا أسد”

Translation: Forever and ever Assad after Assad.

Still, we had hope that Bashar is a better man, a more enlighten man, and of course, a more merciful man than his father was. Plus, I was going to college next, where I can easily not attend Al Baath party meetings, and avoid marches and all regime supporting acts I used to be forced to do. And most importantly, no stupid uniform and no mottos to repeat like a parrot without meaning any of them. I was about to have a space of freedom I never had before. And I’m gonna enjoy it.

College was different, things were easier than ever for me, and I had some peace of mind. No more Al Baath crap to take. That sure felt great. And there were some changes in Syria, positive ones. We were promised change, and change there was. Not political change nor any kind of freedom, but we now can install satellite dishes, and there are private universities, and Dial Up internet connections. That got me occupied for a while, and college life was nice, time flew, and I suddenly found myself working in a private company and making money.

The year is 2007, I started working as I said, and in that company I met new interesting people, two of my coworkers were recently released from prison, they were political prisoners, and they weren’t a part of the most feared and most hated Muslim Brotherhood or else they would’ve been killed. I sat with those two and we spoke, a lot. They were a part of a movement that started in the 90’s and was found out afterwards by the regime. Many of them never got out of jail. Those two told me things I didn’t know before. They told me stories of how they were kidnapped by security forces without a warrant, how they were tortured and interrogated by under educated people without any presence of lawyers or judges, and how they were thrown in jail for years without a trail or any accusations.

They showed me scars, physical and emotional ones. There are things much worse than getting killed they said. So many horrible things they’ve seen in those years they spent behind bars. They had no idea where they were held, for how long, or even why.

I was busy between my new job and learning new languages I had no time to really think about doing anything, I got used to living like this, not to talk politics, not to discuss anything, just to nod along, and on the bright side, I now have my passport, after paying hundreds of thousands of pounds, I finally got away with serving the military service. That was the smartest decision I’ve ever made in my life because I simply wouldn’t have make it in there. Military service would’ve killed me. I am a proud man, and I can’t accept being humiliated by anyone, and the only thing they do in military service in Syria is to insult and humiliate young men to make them obey the orders and become a tool of destruction in the hand of Assad’s regime. I know I can’t be that. I know I would’ve been killed there.

So, I have my passport and I can go anywhere, that’s the dream right? To leave Syria and never look back. That was my dream, but I couldn’t do it. It doesn’t matter why, I had to stay in Syria, keep working, and bury my dreams of leaving and living free somewhere far away.

After my dream was shattered, I got depressed. All I did was work. Work work work. I did some travelling since I love going out, and that’s how I survived that era.

Paying my way out of the military service (Legally) took a lot of me. Going in and out of government buildings, dealing with government people, and paying them off to do their job made my life a living hell. People who work in most government bureaus are under educated, bribe loving, stinky, ego maniacs. They know that we need them and they enslave us to give us what we need. I paid more than 20,000 pounds to pass a completely legal paper. Like I said when I was talking about education in Syria, government services too would take a book to explain how bad they are. Getting rid of those parasites is one of many reasons for this revolution we’re seeing. You see those in government banks, military service offices, electricity/water/telephone service offices, and everywhere else. Al Baath party believes in Socialism, it’s like communism, only worse in my opinion. Socialism approved its failure many times, even here in Syria, it’s barley working, and it turns the workers with some power into greedy monsters, since no one can do anything to them if they didn’t do their work. We have to sweet talk them, and treat them like kings, and pay them to do their work.

Let’s skip a couple of years and get to the year 2010, Bashar Assad has been putting all kinds of change or reformations on hold since 2005, and things are getting worse every year. The economy is dying, prices are through the roof, education is worse than ever, freedom is dead, and names like Rami Makhloof showed up and started taking over every major project and stealing billions of dollars every year while the people can’t find jobs. Cities like Homs and Hama and Dara has been forgotten from any serious projects, and the mayors there started stealing every penny in their cities. Citizens are being humiliated by security forces on daily bases, and people are getting upset.

One day I heard the news about a man in Damascus, who has been beat up and humiliated by a policeman, tens of people from the street gathered and started chanting "الشعب السوري ما بينذل" “The Syrian people won’t be humiliated” over and over, more people joined in, policemen gathered and tried to separate the people and failed. A minister from the government came down there, apologized to the humiliated man and took him in his own car, then he yelled at the policeman, and the people left afterwards. That incident was something we’ve never expected. People in Damascus got the courage to do this. I was very glad that this happened and didn’t end badly.

A while after that I heard the news about a girl in Homs, a girl I don’t know personally but I know her family. A sweet 18 years old girl called Tall Al Mallouhi. She comes from a family of poets and writers known to all Syrians. Her parents are nice and decent people. The news I heard was that this teenage girl got arrested and will be prosecuted for treason. They said she is sending information to Israel through the internet. The first thing came to my mind was “What information did this 18 years old girl know anyway?” I kept hearing news about this girl and it was confirmed that she was in fact in jail. The trail took place short after and she was sent to spend five years in jail. I asked about this and found out that this girl, like the rest of her family, is a poet, and that she wrote a poem on her blog mentioning freedom in Syria, and that’s all she’s ever done. This story made me so angry that I kept talking about it all the time to everyone I know. Whenever I sit with someone, Tall Al Mallouhi was what I talk about. A teenage girl gets 5 years in jail for a poem? They’ve ruined her future! They’ve killed her hopes! Right there I knew that this situation won’t last long. I knew that something must be done. This regime can’t go on like this anymore. We gotta move soon. But how and when?

Chapter One: The beginning

Chapter One: The beginning

The Syrian revolution started on March 15^th 2011, but that isn’t the beginning I want to start with. I shall start at the very beginning, back when I was a child.

I was born in 1984, a couple of years after the massacre that took place in Hama. Syria changed after that massacre, people got scared, and the secret intelligence were widely active all over the country. I remember hearing the phrase “Walls have ears” when I was a very young boy.

I was raised in the city of Homs, and I was a happy child. My parents were very good to me and my brothers and sister, and school was great as well, or so I thought at the time.

I was a part of Al Baath Scouts “Talae3 Al Baath” when I was in elementary school, just like everybody else in my generation, and I had absolutely no idea what does “Talae3 Al Baath” mean, again, like everybody else. We were taught many things at a very young age, and those things were stuck in my head even though I didn’t completely understand them. There were songs and mottos to repeat on daily bases, and I will share some of them with you.

" يحيا يحيا مين          حبيب الملايين

بطل تشرين الصامد       أبو سليمان القائد"

Translation:” Long live, the one who’s loved by the millions, the hero of October, Abu Suliman the leader” Abu Suliman is what we used to call Hafez Assad, it changed to Abu Basel a while after.

The first commandment of Al Baath Scouts is: "نحن نحب وطننا العربي الكبير و قطرنا السوري و حزب البعث العربي الاشتراكي"

Translation: “We love our big Arab world, our country Syria, and Al Baath party.”

"طلائع طلائع   يحيا الوطن

طلائع طلائع    لرفع العلم

طلائع طلائع  لبعث العرب

سيروا سيروا    بعزم الأسد

صيحوا صيحوا    عاش الأسد عاش الأسد عاش الأسد"

Translation:

“ Scouts Scouts   Long live the homeland

Scouts Scouts    To raise the flag

Scouts Scouts   For Al Baath of Arabs

March March   With Assad’s strength

Shout Shout   Long live Assad, Long live Assad, Long live Assad”

وحدة وحدة وحدة”

حافظ يا حرية  حافظ يا اشتراكية  يا روح الأمة العربية

حافظ يا حافظ   حافظ يا حافظ"

Translation:

Unity Unity Unity

Hafez you’re freedom,   Hafez you’re socialism,   you’re the soul of the Arab nation

Hafez oh Hafez   Hafez oh Hafez

الى الأبد الى الأبد يا حافظ الأسد"”

Translation: Forever and ever Hafez Assad

There is a ton more of this stuff, and I don’t have them all in mind but I still have my brother’s Scouts’ notebook with all of that and more handwritten and dated 1988. These all were being taught in elementary schools since before I was in and long after. I remember pieces of many other songs and mottos, all praise the leader Hafez Assad and the Baath party.

At home, things weren’t much different. My parents used to tell me how great our leader is, and how much we all should love and respect him, and I believed them.

Elementary school went fast, and I got into a new chapter of my life, I was a seventh grader in an all male school now, and that’s when things started to change dramatically.

The year is 1990, we were now forced to wear a military dark green uniforms to school, and big black military boots to go with them. Checking our uniforms was the first thing the teachers do in the morning, right after we salute the flag, sing the Syrian national anthem, and repeat three new mottos.

"أمة عربية واحدة   ذات رسالة خالدة"

"أهدافنا: وحدة حرية اشتراكية"

"عهدنا: أن نتصدى للامبريالية والصهيونية والرجعية وأن نسحق أداتهم المجرمة عصابة الأخوان المسلمين العميلة"

Translation:

One Arab Nation with an immortal mission (Or message)

Our Goals: Unity, Freedom, Socialism.

Our Oath: To confront the Zionist and imperialistand reactionary forces and smash their criminal instument the Muslim Brotherhood"

These three mottos and the same uniform stayed with us till college.

When I first went to the seventh grade I was a child being taught how to become a man, and a part of being a man in Syria was to adore the leader and start to be a serious part of something called The Revolution Youth "Al Shabiba”.

We all were forced to join this youth movement and to attend the weekly meetings where we were taught new mottos of course. Then we were forced to go out in mass marches every now and then to support the leader Hafez Assad and Al Baath party. They used to take us out of the classes, organize us, give us photos of Hafez Assad, or big banners to hold. We used to like these marches for two reasons: 1- No school. 2- We see girls from the all school girls. They take us on long walks while we’re holding those pictures and banners, and they make us sing and repeat the mottos that we all know by heart to support the leader and of course to praise the occasion. Those occasions were 1- The birth of Al Baath party. 2- The October war. 3- March 8^th: Where Al Baath Party took over the presidency. 4- The day that Hafez Assad took over the presidency (الحركة التصحيحة). There are more but those were the most memorable ones. Of course many of those occasions were made into a national holiday so we used to go a day before it, unless it wasn’t made into a holiday like April 7^th (The “birth” of Al Baath Party).

Anyway, things started to change, and I started to hear things every now and then, things like “This kid’s father has been in jail since 3 months before he was born” and “That kid’s father died in Hama in the 80’s”. No one talked about these things loudly. No one. That’s when I started asking questions.

One of the mottos we started repeating daily when we started the 7^th grade was talking about us promising to eliminate the “traitorous” Muslim Brotherhood movement. I never knew what Muslim Brotherhood was, and I had no idea why we must hate them so much. In fact, most of us had no idea what the motto says word by word, we used to move our lips and make funny noises until it ends since it’s a big motto. And by the time I got to the 9^th grade, I started learning things. I was introduced to the nicest kid, he was such a nerd, and I liked him. His father was in jail, and when I asked him about the reason his dad was locked up, he said that the government thinks he’s in the Muslim Brotherhood. That kid never met his father. He never talked about him, and he said that his mother told him never to talk about him to anyone.

I went home that day and asked my parents about the Muslim Brotherhood, and about that kid’s father, about what he did to deserve being locked up for years in a secret place that nobody knew, no one even knew if he’s still alive. My father told me that the Muslim Brotherhood was an armed Islamic extremists group who killed many good men in Syria in the 80’s and that Hafez Assad killed them all.

He also told me never to say their name again and never to talk about them or ask about them ever again. I knew that he was hiding something but I didn’t ask about it.

Satellite dishes were banned at the time is Syria, and there were only two channels on TV, both government channels, there was no internet, and political books and magazines were banned as well, and that’s why I couldn’t get an answer. I had to ask again a while after that, but still no answer.

I finished the 9^thgrade and moved into a new school, I was 14, and I had too many questions. My brother was 19, so I sat with him and I asked him. He was scared. He took me into our bedroom and started telling me the truth. The truth about everything.

He said that Hafez Assad is a bad man, and that he and his brother are murderers. He told me about the secret intelligence and how they’re everywhere and hear everything. He said that some of his friends know more about the Muslim Brotherhood since they’re older and they remember what happened in Hama.

I obviously was shocked, but at that point, it all made perfect sense to me. My parents lied because they wanted to protect me. All parents lied for that reason. They were scared. Everyone is scared. They all know people who were killed in the massacre of the 80’s. It didn’t only happen in Hama, many were killed in Homs and Aleppo as well, and many more disappeared. Talking about this was like signing a death sentence.

After that, I started listening to what they say in Al Baath party and Al Shabiba meetings. I started reading what they write on the banners that we must hold many times a year. I started paying attention to the world around me. That’s when I started hating everything about them.

They made me hold things I didn’t believe in. They made me repeat things I don’t understand. They made me cheer for a murderer and a dictator. Everything I knew was a lie. They’ve ruined me.

That’s when I started running away from their marches. I didn’t care about going out for the girls anymore. It all seems so ridiculous now. I know the truth. I know what’s going on and I can’t be a part of it. Plus, no one cares since every student in every school and every employee at every government department or service is out and in the street cheering for the leader, the killer. Men, women, and children, all gathered from all around the city, holding his photos, singing his name, thanking him for all the great things he did, for killing their fathers, and putting their kids in jail. My eyes were finally open, but there’s nothing to do but to act like everything’s okay, that I still believe.

At least, now, I know.