The good ol' US of A.

Growing up as a little kid in Syria in the 80's, I've heard many stories about that country. Good stories. It's the country where people are treated nicely, and where people who work hard, make a lot of money, and live a good life. It's the country with the best colleges, and best cheeseburgers.

I was fascinated by the USA for the longest time, I had a dream that one day I'll visit that country, and perhaps live in it.

I watched American TV shows and movies, I listened to American music, and I learned English way before most kids in Syria do.

Listening to Backstreet boys, and watching Friends were the highlight of my day in the mid 90's.

And then I started growing up, and learning more about the world, including my country, Syria, and the USA, and that only made me like America more.

And one day, while my family and I were on vacation, something happened. Something big and terrifying. It was 9/11.

I remember that day very clearly. The TV in the vacation home wasn't working, and cellphones weren't a thing yet, nor the internet.
I remember going to a shop to call my brother who stayed behind so we know what was happening.

We were all shocked, and sad. News kept coming, and we didn't know what to make of it.

I couldn't understand what exactly happened until we got back home. That's when I realized the world won't be the same again.

People started talking, they were afraid that their Muslim relatives and friends in the USA will be harmed, and we kept hearing stories about Muslims being harassed and called names.

That was the first time in my life I wasn't sure if I wanted to visit the USA anymore.

Then came the Iraqi "freedom" war, which we all didn't believe that's going to happen. And that's when we saw the hatred that we didn't know existed.

The killing and torture of Iraqis, the hateful and bigoted things that's been said.

I started being scared. They were right next to my country, and people were saying that Syria was next.

Skipping few years, I was not scared anymore. I knew that most people in the USA aren't bigots, and that the few bad ones tend to be the loudest.

I became friends with many Americans, mostly Nine Inch Nails fans. And they were some of the best people on Earth.

Once again, I started hoping to visit the USA, and meet my online friends, as I was very close to some of them.

When the Arab spring started, those American friends were unbelievably nice and supportive. And between 2011-2013 I've made so many more online friends from the USA, even though most of them didn't know my real name since I was just "BigAlBrand" to them. Only a very few special people knew my name. I could count them on one hand.

When things turned really bad in 2012, I started losing hope in Syria, and started thinking about leaving. I didn't, because I still had enough hope, but the thought was in my head for a long time.

After my time in Assad's torture center in 2013, I knew I couldn't stay in Syria long, and at a certain point after arriving to Turkey, I seriously tried to go to the USA. I won't write details here, but things didn't work out.

During my time in Turkey, and especially since Trump vs Hillary started, the amount of hateful comments towards Syrians and especially the refugees, and Muslims in general, skyrocketed, and most of them were from US citizens. And yes, most of them were Trump supporters.

Trump said some really bad things, but I won't get into that. I'll just say that what he said about people like me, Syrian refugees, was not nice or truthful.

We're trying to survive a war between many sides, and all of them are bad.
Assad vs ISIS vs Al Nusra vs American backed Kurdish militia etc.

Russian jets bombing anyone who isn't Assad, USA jets bombing ISIS and Nusra, and a bunch of other jets bombing other things, and above all, Assad's jets bombing everything.

All the hateful things that were told to me and any Syrian or Muslim, all the horrible names I was called. I can actually post since screenshots that I kept.

So much hatred!

But still, that's not what most Americans think! These are just a bunch of ignorant racist bigots, and they are just loud.

That's what I believed.

But now, I don't know what to believe.

Trump won.

Those unbelievable hateful people got the man they adore to become president.

Does that mean that the majority of the USA are hateful bigots?

I don't want to believe that.

I can't believe that.

I'll keep my faith in people, and I'll convince myself that the majority just didn't care to vote, or that those who voted were scared of Hillary and believed all that's been said about her and that's why they picked Trump.

They truly believed he's the lesser evil.

I still love my American friends, and I'll still hope to one day visit the USA and see its beauty, but perhaps now isn't the time to do so.

Perhaps in few more years I won't feel hated as much, just because I was born in Syria, and because I'm a Muslim.

But for now, I'll stay away, and wish the USA and its people well, and a better tomorrow.

Chapter 16: 100 years of peace. Vol: 1

The Peace Palace in The Hague turned 100 years old in August 28th 2013, and a big celebration was held for this great occasion which should be celebrated all around the world in my opinion.
Nothing is greater and more satisfying than celebrating peace, and getting invited to that celebration and a week of amazing activities connected to it was a once in a lifetime opportunity for me.

A dear friend whom I've never met, and a man I look up to, Anas Marrawi was the one invited, and he suggested my name instead of his, and the good people organizing the celebration looked me up and didn't mind.
They contacted me with details, showed me how hospitable they are and how they’ll take care of every single thing. From transportation, to hotels, including the visa.I was very excited about this invitation and extremely honored to be one of ten bloggers they chose from around the globe.I received my invitation on July 25th, and the planned program on the 26th, and they were encouraging us to give suggestions and get involved with the planning of our program a month before the event. Everything was very exciting.

On the 28th, I contacted several of the young men I was invited with, and I had the numbers and emails of the people in charge of the event and helping us out in The Netherlands’ embassy in Egypt and Lebanon. I had to get a date with the embassy in Beirut to deliver my visa application and invitation since getting the visa takes up to 15 days, and when I looked online the only free date was on the 29th, meaning I had to go to Lebanon that very same night! And it was almost 3 PM.
I booked the spot at the embassy, filled out the visa application, and decided to do whatever I can to not let this opportunity go.

It was Ramadan, and Maghreb was few hours away, and since I was in Homs, I had to go to Damascus first since no transportation from Homs to Lebanon was available due to clashes near the border.

Around 3 PM, no buses either, so I called a taxi driver and packed my papers and a couple of things in a small bag. I didn't have time to shower or shave.

At exactly 4 PM I was on my way to Damascus. I knew my name wasn't in the wanted lists at security checkpoints since they raided my house not long ago and checked my ID, but what I didn't have time to do is to check if my name was in the wanted list at the border. I didn't give it any thought because, why would my name be on such list?

Few hours and tens of security checkpoints later, we arrived in Damascus, and that’s when I decided to go straight to Beirut and not have a meal in Damascus. I thought I’d get a room at a hotel, order room service, and take a shower.Until the border everything was going normally for such times, and I even bought the paper that allows me to leave Syria. I wrote my name on it and everything and gave it along with my ID to the officer who is supposed to stamp it and give it back so I can cross. That guy told me to go inside because there is something he wanted to ask me about, and that’s when they arrested me.

They took my bag, my cellphone, and my wallet. Wouldn't let me talk to the driver or make a phone call. I was yelled at and was told to sit still and not open my mouth or else.I sat there listening to my cellphone ringing, and I knew it was my mother wanting to check on me if I crossed the border. I begged them to answer the phone themselves and tell her only that I’m alive! But of course I only got yelled at more.

They brought my file, and the paper that said to what branch I was wanted, and started asking me questions. They said I was born in 1979 while I really was born in 1984. I told them my older brother was born in 1979, and they figured out that my brother is the one they want since he didn't do his military service, but they said there’s nothing they can do and they must transfer me to the branch I’m wanted in.

One of the officers started laughing at us (Me and the others on that bench) saying things like: If you can’t handle the consequences why start a revolution? Then he kept coming over and slapping the person next to me with all he’s got. He slapped him more than 6 times every time he came over.

I found out the guy next to me was trying to cross the border with his brother’s ID to avoid being taken to the military service. Every few minutes they’d come back to him and slap him with all their strength.I was kept on that bench for an hour or more, my phone ringing, and hearing insults, then they put handcuffs on me and the guy next to me.

That was the first time I was handcuffed, but in the next 7 days I was handcuffed more than 6 times and in at least 3 types of handcuffs.We were taken to a room where we had to take our shoes and belts off, then they took us to the cell. Also the first time I see a jail cell. It was dirty, it had rats running inside of it, and it had 4 other people.

When they put us in that cell they wanted to take our handcuffs off, but the key didn't work, so they left them on. Me and the other guy were handcuffed together for a while until they came back and tried several keys until one worked.In that cell there was a plastic chair and I sat on it. I asked if they’re going to feed us and the answer was no.I spent the night sitting down because the mattresses were indescribably dirty.

That was day one without food, sleep, or contacting anyone.

The next morning we were taken out of the cell, given our shoes and belts back, handcuffed, and lead to a bus. We were stuffed there in the last two rows of chairs with our handcuffs on, and I probably was the only one who wasn't beaten on the way in.

The officers then filled the rest of the seats with big bags of cigarettes they bought from the Free Zone market between Syria and Lebanon. Then they did a count for the cartons and how many each of them will take and sell inside Damascus.

They dragged every person to the branch he was wanted in, and I was wanted for a security branch called 251. We arrived there and there was another guy with me being delivered to that same branch, and he’s been to it before so he kept begging the officer to stay with us so they won’t brutally beat us on our way is like they did to him the last time.

Once we arrived the horrible insults started, we were shoved against a wall until they took our papers and then they dragged us in with our heads down and hands still cuffed.

We went down stairs and there they uncuffed us, shoved us against corners of walls, with our hands behind our backs, then they started yelling our names one by one, whenever a name is yelled that person had to go answer the basic questions and give the person in charge everything he has in his pockets or bag.

My name was called, I went towards him, and he was an old man with a small table. He opened my bag and started listing what’s in it. He took my phone and memory stick I had and put them in a paper bag and wrote my name on it. He asked me if I was sick, and I told him I have asthma and heart issues, hoping that would help me get less beat up in the days ahead, but that didn't work as I found I was assured of what I already knew, and that is they don’t care.

I was shoved back against the wall, and more insults of course, then I was dragged into another hall where they told me to take off all my clothes, they checked them and checked me, then they yelled at me to get dressed quickly, while walking towards the big cell where I will be staying.

On the way to that cell, more insults, kicks, etc. They opened the door and shoved me inside. That’s when I found out there are no cells. Just a big hall with hundreds of people like me shoved inside. No bars no windows. Just walls and a door with a camera on top of it. There was a sink with a line to get to it, and I found a place on the floor to sit. No chairs, no mattresses, nothing. Just floor and people, lots of people.The first thing I heard when I came in is a man asking me what time it was when they brought me in, but I had no idea.I spent the rest of that day talking to other prisoners and swapping stories, and watching some of them being called, taken for a while, then coming back after their interrogation during of which most of them were tortured.

The combination of prisoners was very unusual, there were several from every city in Syria, some of them were old and some were young. And by young I don’t mean 18 years old, but 14. There was a 14 years old kid locked in one of the most savage places in Earth, and there were men in their 70’s. There were sick men, injured men, and terminally ill men. One prisoner was mentally challenged, and couldn't speak or walk or eat properly. A few came back from the torture room (or rooms) bleeding, or with extremely swollen body parts, and some never made it back while I was there.By evening, they brought us bread, inedible bread to say the least, I tried a bite and I couldn't swallow it, but when I offered my loaf to others, they took it and divided it and ate it whole. I don’t know how long those haven’t had anything to eat.

In that evening my name was called among many others, and they took us out one by one to take our photo for their files, and while taking my photo they made a couple of stupid jokes about my hair (I had long hair then).

I had to use the restroom, so I had to stand in line for about 30 minutes to get there. The restroom was a tiny room with no light, the toilet had no cover and couldn't be flushed, and there was no shower, just a high valve that drops water all over that room at all times, except when water is out obviously.

All that was fine, until I found out that there is no soap. Hundreds of men, eating, and sleeping together, going to the bathroom, and unable to wash their hands. That's when I knew I'll be sick as hell very soon since I shook many people's hands in there.

Until this day I can't get over the fact that the only thing available in that cell was water, and only during the day I found out later that night.

By I don’t know what O’clock, they said it’s time to go to sleep. A couple of the old timers inside the cell told us to stand in rows with only about 30 centimeters between every two rows, then they told us to sit down in that exact position, then spread our legs and lie down, that way I had my upper half on the person behind me, while my legs were on the sides of the person in front of me and that person had his upper half on top of me. So basically we had to sleep on top of each other. Literally.

Personally I couldn't stay in that position for an entire minute and got up immediately, and spent the night standing up by a wall, and when most people fell asleep, I barely had space for my feet standing up.

That was day two without food, sleep, or contacting anyone.

______________________________________________________

Second day in this security center started with me extremely weak, and during the morning after guards started calling out names I found a place to lie down to rest, but of course that's when my name was called, so I got up, and headed to the door.

Like everyone before me, I went out barefoot as no boots were allowed, and as I stepped out of the door, I was in an ocean of insults, kicks, and grabs. They lead me to a wall, told me to pick up something from the corner next to me, I did, and it was a blindfold. They told me to put it on my eyes very tightly, and that if they found out I could see they'll kill me.

I put on the blindfold and they tightened it up more, and told me to put my hands behind my back and my head down,

After more kicks, insults, and jokes about my looks, they dragged me upstairs, stopped me facing a wall until the officer who will interrogate me arrived.

The officer didn't drag or touch me, he was holding a stick, poked me with it, told me to catch the other side of it and follow him.
In the interrogation room I was told to kneel on my knees with my hands behind my back, blindfolded still.

The officer started asking me questions, my name, my job, my family, etc.. and during these questions a security guy came from my back and said that he had good news for the officer, and that one of the "terrorists" and after only one slap decided to give up so many information. The officer told him to wait for him until he finishes with me.

I nearly smiled at that badly played charade, but of course I didn't.
The officer then told me to collaborate and that he'll help me a lot if I give him the information he wants.
I said I will fully collaborate with him and be completely honest.

Officer told me he knows I don't carry a weapon and fight (Thanks to the years I spent baking brownies and pizzas I don't have the fitness to fight), but then he elaborated with "We have recorded phone calls of you and several terrorists discussing how and when you'll deliver money to them"

He then started opening my family's file (I could hear the papers flipping) and told me that my brother is a Salafi Wahhabi who sends me millions that I deliver to terrorist groups, and my brother-in-law is a friend of many princes in Saudi Arabia and Qatar and he too sends me millions that I deliver to terrorists, and all I have to do is give him the names of those terrorists, and if I do that he'll help my case, otherwise I'll be sent to the anti terrorism court, in which I will be sentenced to be executed.

He said he'll now give me the chance to "come clean" and that I better take that chance.

My answer was that I did receive money transfers from my brother, but there were no millions, but thousands, and all were used by me and my parents to live, since I haven't worked since 2011.

Hearing that he came at me, dragged me to the wall I was standing by earlier, told me to kneel again, and that's when he started beating me with a cable or a whip, I took the first few whips but then my knees couldn't hold me anymore and I fell on the floor screaming in pain, but he kept on beating my feet and hands with that cable.
One of the security guards came by when he heard my screams and started kicking me and saying the worst insults I've ever heard in my life and telling me to shut up.

I closed my mouth with my hands and they kept on beating me until I was about to faint.
They told me to stand up, which was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, then one of them dragged me downstairs and back to the cell.

Cellmates told me to move and jump so my feet won't get swollen, and I did my best, then they helped me to the shower to wash my feet and hands with cold water, and that helped ease the pain quickly.

I sat in the cell, full of pain and anger, I felt unbelievably weak. I was broken. And worst of all, I knew this was just the beginning.

So many thoughts came to me, I wondered if I'll ever leave this place alive, I wondered how my old parents are doing back home not knowing where I was, and that only made me feel worse, but then I decided to try to make myself feel better.
I tried to accept the fact that I'm here and there's nothing I can do about, that I will  be beaten and humiliated more, and finally that I will stay in that cell for a year, so I shall get used to it.

Few minutes before the first meal of the day, a guy was brought back and his feet were extremely large from all the beating he took, he couldn't even put them on the floor, and once he was shoved inside the cell, a man went to him and started massaging his feet, other brought him water in their hands so he wouldn't faint, and they told him he had to start standing up right away or he might get much worse.

The first meal that day was the same meal they've been serving almost every day in that security branch. The same inedible bread, but this time with some cooked burghul. I tried to take a bite of each and I still couldn't swallow either. I immediately gave them away to other prisoners, but then there was a surprise! They brought us little green pears after the meal! Oh how happy I was with my pear. Finally something I could eat. And I did. I enjoyed every tiny bite of that pear, and I ate it whole.

After this feast the old timers told everyone to stand up and gather near the cell's door and they washed the floor. They had a (akecath?) and a cloth to dry the floor with. They even had some precious dish washing liquid which once I saw I decided I must have some to take a shower with.

Few minutes later names were called again, and surprisingly mine was included. I didn't think they're interrogate me twice in the same day!

I got up and headed to the door, and the exact same scenario happened, except this time I already knew what was coming. 

Blindfold on, head down, hands to the back, kicks insults and jokes. This time the jokes were smarter, in a way. They asked me about my hair and if it's a musician thing, and I said yes, so then they demanded I sing a rap song for them, and that was the weird thing because I thought I obviously looked like a metalhead! But anyway I didn't sing and they didn't really wanted me to, they're just having fun kicking me and making jokes because I look different.

Then up to the interrogation room, with the same officer and his stick.

I was told to kneel on my knees again, and the officer asked me if I changed my mind yet. I told him I'll tell him everything.
He wanted to know about the money transfers I received, so I told him about every single one and how much it was and how we spent it, and that's when he got angry and started yelling. He said these aren't the transfers he's talking about, he wants to know about the millions brought to me by hand and I delivered to terrorists. He said he had witnesses and recorded tapes of telephone conversations. My answer was that I have no idea what he's talking about and that I'm certain there are no such tapes. That's when he dragged me out again and told me that I've seen nothing yet, he told me that I haven't tasted pain, and that he'll send me down there to the torturing room and forget about me for a month, then he'll see if I change my mind or not.

I begged him, please don't, I swear I have no idea what he's talking about and I told him to look at my clothes, shouldn't I wear better clothes if I really had millions coming to me?
He yelled and told them to take me down and "give me a ride". I never was this scared in my life. This is where many were tortured to death. I told him I have something to say.

He sat me down on the floor and told me that he knew I was going to change my mind, and he told me to give him the names I gave money to, and how much and where.
I told him I have no idea what he's talking about and that's not what I have to say.

He told me to say what I want to say then, and I did.
I told him that all the things he said about me and my family are false, we're not financing terrorism or anybody, as we can barely cover our own life expenses, and then I told him that if he doesn't believe me, or if he thinks I'm lying then why send me downstairs and torture me? I won't confess to something I didn't do, so he could take out his gun and shoot me in the head right there, right now.

I meant every word I said. I thought to myself, I'd rather get killed quickly than under torture. I don't fear death, I've made my peace with it long ago, but torture is another story. If I was gonna be killed, let me try to make it fast and painless.

He remained quiet for a couple of minutes, then he told me he'll give me one more chance till tomorrow morning to confess, then they dragged me back to the cell without beating.


Back in the cell, I sat down and repeated everything I went through in my head to see if what I said was the best thing to say or not. I prepared myself for another round of interrogation the next day and decided I should get some sleep, but once again I couldn't get any sleep that night either.

Three nights without any sleep, without contacting anyone, and all I had was a little green pear. I sure wasn't physically ready for the following day.

Chapter 15: Dunkelheit

After yet another joyless Christmas, life didn’t change much. I went to the bakery on December 26^th morning and stood in the huge line for hours, and around 8:30 AM a young activist (16-17 years old is my guess) with his friends came and filmed the people waiting for bread for a couple of seconds, and I believe I show up clearly in his footage. One day I will look for it in YouTube, and I hope I’ll find it.

The next day I did the same thing and I stood from 8:30 till 10:30 only to get the ticket for bread. During those two hours I had breakfast (Manaeesh from a nearby stand and tea) and there was a women standing next to me. She was dressed in black and she looked miserable -like we all do these days- and she was talking about a dream she saw that night. Said she saw her 15 years old son playing football with his friends in front of their house. Then I found out that her son was killed at a security checkpoint months ago, and that they left their house afterwards. She was smiling while her eyes were filled with sadness, and said she’s glad he’s a martyr, and he’ll be waiting for her in heaven.

I didn’t say a word, but I thought to myself, what a strong woman and what a sad life she’s living. I didn’t ask about her or her son, simply because there are thousands of similar sad stories in my city and all over Syria.

I didn’t wait to actually get the bread cause that will take about 7 hours, so I went shopping and around 11 AM I saw the well known professor Tayyeb Al Tizini. We talked for a few minutes, and this wasn’t the first time I meet him. I met him once before back in March 2011. Only few days after I was attacked and beaten by security force. Back then he saw the marks on my face and told me he knew what happened without asking me. Such a decent and respected man.

I went home, then back to the bakery hours later, only to get my precious bread at 7 PM after another 4 hours in line. So in total, I stood six hours to get bread. Still better than seven.

December 29^th. I was out and in line at 8:45 AM, but this time it wasn’t the familiar bread line, as it’s Saturday and the bakery is closed. This time I was waiting for gas. I was able to hand them the empty container at 2:15 PM. I paid for the new one and went home, since those won’t be ready until next week.

News about the massacre in Deir Balbaa arrived while I was in line, and the stories I heard were so horrible I didn’t want to believe any of them just to stay sane.

December 30^th, I decided to go to the bakery earlier than ever, and I was there at 4:45 AM, found 37 people in line in front of me. At 6 I got one pack and went home sick with a bad cough because of the freezing cold weather.

8:50 AM fighter jets started flying over the city and four minutes later they did multiple attacks.

Jets came back again in the afternoon, and I found many security forces members fully armed in every street I’ve been to that day, and many areas in Homs lost electricity.

December 31^st. The last day in this horrible year. I was so sick, we had no electricity, and heavy shelling didn’t stop all day.

At exactly midnight Assad’s forces celebrated New Year’s by shooting randomly for several minutes, and some kept shooting till 1 AM.

I could hear the shooting sounds coming from at least four different checkpoints.

Happy New Year. Indeed.

2012 was the worst year of my life. And I believe it’s been the worst year in Syria’s entire history. The country is torn apart. Cities are destroyed. Tens of thousands were killed and many more were detained.

January 1^st 2013: Worst first day ever. No electricity at all, very cold weather, and we’re out of bread since I was too sick to go buy bread for days. We bought some expensive not so delicious bread from nearby.

January 2^nd: No electricity.

January 3^rd: No electricity.

January 4^th: No electricity.

January 5^th: We finally got electricity back, but not entirely as it was ON/OFF all day.

January 6^th: After Assad’s speech security forces opened fire at 12:55 PM. Heavy shelling between 4 and 7 PM. Electricity was ON/OFF. No internet connection since early morning anywhere in the city.

January 7^th: No electricity. Very cold weather. Heavy shelling.

January 8^th: No electricity. Very cold weather. Heavy shelling.

January 9^th: No electricity. Very cold weather. Heavy shelling. With an extra: Snow.

January 10^th: No electricity. Very cold weather. Heavy shelling. Snow. But later that night we got electricity back, well, sort of. It was so weak we couldn’t turn on a single lamp.

January 11^th: No electricity. Very cold weather. Heavy shelling. More snow. We emptied the freezer and put food in snow on the balcony. March 2012 déjà vu.

After 5 P, shelling got worse and my house was shaking.

January 12^th: I was finally able to take a shower after 11 days without hot water because we had no electricity.

January 13^th: I really hate to repeat myself a hundred times, but: No electricity. And most people are now out of heating fuel. (Diesel? We call it Mazoot but I’ll stick to “fuel”)

January 14^th: You guessed it! No electricity.

January 15^th: No electricity, obviously.

Went o the bakery at 7:30, went back home at 9 empty handed since they didn’t give tickets to anyone because they said the bakery was out of fuel. While heading home I saw them giving lots of bread to security forces from a different door with my own eyes, while hundreds of men, women, and children are still waiting in this freezing weather waiting for the fuel to arrive so they can eat.

9:24 AM, a bullet came through a window, shattered the glass all over the carpet and sofas, then hit the wall, then jumped into the heater and smashed the fuel container’s cap into pieces. Gladly it didn’t hit the container itself which was full.

While cleaning the mess caused by that bullet, news came about a two massacres, one in Aleppo University which saw some huge peaceful demos against Assad months ago, and the second in Houla which saw one of the worst massacres we’ve ever witnessed.

We couldn’t follow the news since we had neither electricity nor internet connection.

January 16^th: I don’t need to type those two words anymore because we always have NO ELECTRICITY.

January 17^th: Waited since 4 PM till 1 AM for fuel and went home without a drop. We got electricity for a few hours at night.

January 18^th: Back to No electricity. Heavy shelling at 12:45 PM.

January 19^th: I saw troops in many vehicles, all armed and chanting for Assad. “We choose only three, God, Syria, and Bashar”, “Shabiha forever, for your eyes Assad” and so on.

They kept driving, chanting loud, and waving their guns for a while.

Of course we have no electricity and no cellphone coverage as it comes and goes with electricity.

10:15 AM rapid shooting, not from regular guns, but from much heavier artillery my father told me, and some shelling as well.

Some of my far relatives left their houses in Bayada after Assad’s troops started shelling that area to the ground and moved to a village called Haswieh. That entire family was killed in the air strike few days ago and were all buried under ruins, and no one was able to pull them out.

I’ve never met those people, but even if they weren’t my relatives at all, their story is still as depressing to me.

January 20^th: We lost electricity when we woke up and cellphone coverage as well.

Shelling started early.

Someone I know told me a story about a soldier he knows who wanted to defect and was delivered a dead body to his family before he even tried to. My mother knows the soldier’s mother, but she decided not to call her and ask about the story due to the horrific times she’s in.

Shelling kept going into the night.

January 21^st: We got electricity and cellphone signal. Hallelujah!

Around 11:40 AM, shooting was very close to my house. Meters away to be exact.

January 23^rd: Electricity company vehicle was going through Hamra cutting illegal cables which most people rely on to overcome the lack of legal electricity.

January 24^th: It’s war here this morning. Excessive shelling and heavy gunfire. My house’s doors and windows got opened because of nearby shelling. I could hear the rockets being launched, then flying in the air making a funny whistling sound, then hitting their targets. I’m so sick of living like this. Of waking up like this.

Electricity is still an issue, bread, fuel and gas as well, but we’ve seen a couple of warm days and that made everything better.

Shelling didn’t stop all day and it was targeting many areas, mainly Qusoor, Jobar, Sultanieh, and Khaldieh.

Inshaat, Hamra, Ghouta, and Dablan were shaking because of the shelling even though they weren’t targeted.

Waar has been seeing more and more fighting in the past few weeks.

But it wasn’t all bad as my neighbors brought us some delicious chocolate cake that kept me happy for a few minutes. Try eating a chocolate cake in the dark. It’s a lot of fun.

Shelling was back in the evening, then again at night. I went to bed heating awfully loud explosion sounds. The same sounds I woke up to.

I can’t help but to confess that the regime was able to change the focus of the world from our demands (Freedom, equality, and democracy) to restoring peace and stopping the bloodshed. Their viciousness paid off in the short term, but it will eat them up in the end.

January 25^th: War continues since 4 AM, but from one side as it always is. FSA never strike back heavy. Either because they don’t have the weapons for it, or because Assad’s forces usually attack from inside civilian areas. I believe it’s the first reason.

Friday prayer came and with it came massive gunfire in many directions, and again, no firing back.

In the afternoon, security forces were walking the streets and opening fire randomly while shelling continued.

Around 4 PM, cement barriers were installed back in different main streets and smoke was seen over Qusoor, Bughtasieh, and Jorat Al Shayyah. It’s April 2012 all over again.

At night, all that’s left was sniper shots. Lots of them.

January 26^th: Unlike the previous two days, shelling and shooting didn’t start at 4 AM, and when they did start around 10 they weren’t as heavy. Sniper shots were heard every few seconds.

I walked around a couple of neighborhoods and talked to people. Saw some cement barriers with the Syrian flag painted on. Heard stories about security forces raiding houses and moving into a couple of empty ones. They pit a lot of guns in empty houses and moved in, a man told me. He said he saw that happening, but I couldn’t confirm that story.

I also saw many new security forces vehicles. Most of them are regular cares with shaded windows or plates that say “Assad’s Syria” being driven by the most obvious pro Assad thugs, with loud music coming out from them.

I heard about an all female security checkpoint close by, but I didn’t go check it out.

People kept calling and telling us to leave before it’s too late, and saying that some families were kicked out from their homes by Assad’s troops. That all happened before, but this time we didn’t even consider leaving. We emptied out emergency bags long time ago. We made our choice. We’d rather die than become refugees.

No electricity in the past 24 hours. No fresh water in 20. We’re getting a very weak cellphone signal in particular corners in our house. Land line are working fine.

My tablet arrived to Damascus, finally! After travelling though three countries (UAE, KSA, and Lebanon). I was planning on going to Damascus to get it, and other things we don’t have in Homs (Mainly medicine), but the bus I usually go on board didn’t have fuel in days and wasn’t going to travel anywhere. I looked for other busses, but then I was afraid something might happen while I’m away, so I decided to stay home.

January 27^th: Morning shelling and gunfire. Still no electricity at all. No water after 11 AM.

Students from a couple of schools couldn’t go to class since Assad’s troops reoccupied their schools. Other schools took some of them in.

We got electricity at 2 PM, and it lasted less than an hour. Then it was on and off all night.

My mother said something that really got to me. She said she’s glad that grandma (her mother) passed away and didn’t see these days since she hated darkness so much and kept the lights on all the time. She would’ve really hated this month on a whole different level than us. May she rest in peace.

January 28^th: We received a present from someone we know and it was a pack of bread he brought from a pro Assad area. He said it took him a minute to get his car filled with bread in that area. He also said that he found fuel and gas widely available there and in such cheap prices.

Electricity was ON/OFF all day. I’m glad I bought safety gadgets to protect our electric devices.

I walked around a couple of neighborhoods, saw some new checkpoints, and some old ones, and many security forces in new areas, but I believe that the stories people are telling were exaggerated. Talking about clashes in many streets is completely false. Assad’s troops however did in fact occupy some buildings and schools, as I saw myself, but not as many as most people think. I personally only believe what I see, and that’s why I don’t talk about other areas unless I go there.

The situation in my areas is worse than ever, but I believe we haven’t seen the worst yet. Plus, we got used to a certain amount of daily gunfire and shelling. The presence of security forces is what bothers me the most.

I did a couple of things that I can’t tell now. I’ll write them down to publish when possible.

January 29^th:

I woke up early since I went to bed early because we had no power, like always. I got dressed and went out.

Once again, I walked around many areas, Hamra, Ghouta, Inshaat, Tawzea Ijbari, Dablan, and Abdulhamid Droubi Street.

In Hamra, they had no electricity. Security forces were at the birds square and there was heavy traffic in Malaab street towards Safir hotel. A couple of security forces vehicles and armed members were checking cars on both ways.

In Ghouta, they had no electricity. Security forces were at the Fares square and the traffic light near Shater Hasan, and more near Sahha (Health Department). I walked towards Nizar Quabbani Street, and didn't go all the way because I saw army vehicles and heard shelling sounds coming from there. I talked to people and they confirmed that some houses were occupied by the troops. They said that only two families didn't leave the houses they asked to be emptied because they had people with special needs.

In Dablan, I could rarely see someone walking. The street was a ghost street, after being the most popular one in the city. I saw troops heading to Abdulhamid Droubi street and heard heavy sounds coming from there, so I didn't even try to go in.

 After that I tried to get near Jorat Al Shayyah and I saw security forces in a checkpoint, those decorated the ruins of a nearby destroyed building with flags and photos of Assads'. Seeing that made me realize how proud they are of what they're doing. Of the destruction and the killing.

In Inshaat, they had no electricity, security checkpoints in front of Safir hotel and on Tripoli Street. Many vehicles and cement barriers there. I could go online there, and I did a tagged tweet with my location for reasons I'll tell later.

In Tawzea Ijbari (Inshaat near Baba Amr), they had no electricity. Security checkpoints and armed troops in Brazil street. They occupied a restaurant nearby and secured it with sand barrels, and decorated the area with photos of Hafez Assad, Bashar Assad, and their chants.

I went home, and we had no electricity when I arrived. I wasn't stopped by any checkpoint, but that didn't help my deep depression because of what I saw.

Later at night, I got so depressed and nothing could help. Not chocolate, not the dark humor, and not the nice replies I got on twitter. I had MLK on my mind. Free at last. I hope we'll celebrate being free soon.

January 30^th: Had breakfast without electricity. Jets were all over the sky at noon. Heard about a young man of my relatives who was killed by a sniper’s bullet while walking in one of the “safe” neighborhoods.

We got enough electricity for me to finally turn the long notes I take daily to this post. Perhaps I will add what will happen tomorrow and end January. The darkest month in my life.

Electricity was on all night for the first time in 2013, and that’s why I was able to look at some old photos of Homs, and that’s when I got an idea about doing a photo blog post showing the old photos and new photos for the same places to show the destruction we’re seeing and how the city never saw such cruelty in its history. I started organizing photos using some of the ones I took myself over the two past years while my eyes were filled with tears. I saw my city get destroyed. Every Syrian has.

January 31^st:

2 AM: explosions and shooting started and lasted until 5 when I finally could fall asleep, only to be awakened by the beautiful sound of a fuel container truck at 7.

I chased it and was successful to buy 20 whole litters. That’ll keep up warm for about three nights. I paid 40 pounds a litter while it was 26 pounds few weeks ago. The official price is 37. The unofficial price could go up to 85 and into pro Assad’s deep dark pockets. All the money and the blood in the world won’t fill those pockets.

After 10, the power streak ended and we were back to a playful ON/OFF electricity which is much better than no electricity at all. New things get added to our suffering list.

1.5 billion were promised to help the UN aid the Syrian refugees. I wonder how much will be actually delivered, and how much will be stolen on the way, and finally, what percentage will pro Assad areas who aren’t in need get.

Another month went by like a nightmare, taking with it a lot of Syrian blood, and leaving plenty of hate and destruction. I’m not looking forward to February, March or April since they were the worst months in 2012.



Note: You can find Chapter 14 here: http://www.neareastquarterly.com/index.php/2012/12/31/a-homs-diary/

Let’s time travel

Looking at old photos of my “once was” beautiful city Homs, and realizing that it will never go back to look the way it did, and that it has never seen the destruction it’s seeing today.

With tears in my eyes I chose a collection of photos, some of which I took myself and put together in a historic order for comparison purposes.

The first set of photos is for an old spot, a square we call the Old Clock square, and you can see the clock in all of these photos:

1-      This photo is probably the oldest, and it shows people and their animals that they used to ride.

2-      This one shows a mix of cars and carts, with a couple of policemen (During the French occupation perhaps?)

3-      This shows a new era, with public transportation and a beautiful fountain and the cars of the 70’s.

4-      A recent one from before the Syrian uprising shows the new buildings, City Center, and the absence of the fountain.

5-      And this shows what happened in the past few months.

6-      And city center these days

Now let’s move to the New Clock square, which is the most famous place in Homs.

1-      This first photo shows the clock while being built with old cars and a simple beautiful area

2-      Then few years after it was finished

3-      Into the 90’s

4-      During a celebration in Hafez Assad’s era

5-      On April 18^th 2011 during the first ever sit-on (Taken by me), and that day we changed the square’s name to Freedom Square.

6-      And finally, the clock now.

Ghouta Street, one of the most known and loved streets in Homs.

1-      We begin before it was a street, there used to be a lot of water and little bridges and only trees on its left.

2-      Water is almost gone, and buildings started to show up.

3-      Water is gone, and so did the trees from the area to your right.

4-      A complete makeover that no one really liked.

5-      Then in 2012 with the cement barriers and the messed up street after tanks started using it.

And let’s end it all with Khalid Bin Al Walid mosque “Sidi Khalid”

1-      In black and white with French writing. I believe this was taken by the French during their occupation.

2-      After changes to the area and some of the structure next to the mosque

3-      A newer “artistic” take.

4-      And after being targeted by Assad’s troops

I chose these areas because they’re well knows, beautiful, historic, and weren't completely destroyed. I hope the destruction won’t continue and erase them all.

Many areas in Old Homs (historic mosques, churches, houses, and castles) were harmed much more and some of them were completely destroyed. I may collect some photos of such places later and make a second post. But that one will look much worse than this one I’m sure.

Now you see how beautiful my city looked, and what’s happening to it. I hope your city won’t see anything like this and that you won’t experience the feelings we’re living.

Chapter 13: The good and the bad.

After months of attacking peaceful demos with heavy artillery, FSA was created to defend Syrian civilians who are demanding freedom and democracy, and after months of defections, the FSA are finally starting to create a balance. They have been gaining more defected soldiers and high ranks from the Syrian army, yet they still aren’t getting enough funding or weapons to do their job right.

In the meantime, civilians like myself are still being held in their houses, in areas surrounded by barriers and security forces, unable to protest, work, or live a decent life.

July 15^th – 17^th, tanks kept coming and leaving 5-6 times a day and open fire each time. Huge areas have been destroyed in Jorat Al Shayyah, Qusoor, Karabis, and Khaldieh. Old Homs have been targeted viciously again many times, or at least what’s left of it.

In those days the situation in Damascus changed and FSA showed up in many neighborhoods inside the city and took control of parts. The regime attacked FSA and they’ve engaged in a street fight, and that spread to many more areas quickly. Midan, Kafersuseh, Tadamon, Hajar Al Aswad, and even Mazzeh and other areas. The Syrian capital changed so much in those 4 days.

July 18^th, this day started with news about an explosion in Damascus in a very important building. Daoud Rajha, Assef Shawkat, Hassan Turkmani were killed. Those three names were from a list of names that the Syrian people hated and feared for so long. Rajha, the minister of defense was behind the wide military operations in Syria which harvested thousands of civilians and destroyed many cities. Shawkat was Rajha’s deputy but he’s also Bashar Assad’s brother in low, a mysterious character that we only knew by name for years. His name used to make us all scared, and he’s the one we really were glad was killed. Hassan Turkmani was the head of the “Crisis Cell” which ran the operations on the ground against protesters.

Other news said that more were killed as well like Hafez Makhloof, and many were badly injured including the minister of interior affairs Muhammad Al Shaar.

This news was the first good news we hear in months. People were talking about it in the streets of Homs and smiling. I saw many buying cakes and sweets to celebrate, and so did we.

Those names put horror in our hearts for so many years and we’re all glad they were done, and we hoped that the injured ones would die as well. This is a huge hit to the regime, and they felt it.

Many soldiers and officers defected that day all over Syria and especially in Damascus.

Good news kept coming, and this time from Aleppo. Many areas in Aleppo countryside were under control of the FSA, and they gained many tanks and weapons.

Of course all good news should come to an end, and that’s what happened that night when the death toll was more than 250. Many areas in Damascus were getting shelled for the first time, and a funeral was targeted leaving 60 dead bodies beside the one they were holding.

The passing of so many martyrs made me regret that I felt better earlier. Rest in peace.

July 19^th, the heat is unbearable, Security Council failed to do anything for the third time after another Russian/Chinese veto, but we all knew this was coming so I doubt anyone really cared.

Damascus was still getting shelled, and so were Homs, Rastan, Deir Al Zour, Aleppo countryside, and so many other areas. Most of Syria is under fire now. Cellphone and 3G networks are down.

Good news: FSA keep gaining areas and weapons in Aleppo countryside and in Deir Al Zour and inside Damascus. They’re in control of many check points in the Turkish and Iraqi borders.

Bad news: More than 200 casualties, thousands of refugees heading to Lebanon (More than 18000 in one day).

The regime said that Saturday would be the first day of Ramadan unlike most of the rest of the Muslim countries, and the opposition and many sheikhs said that Friday is the first day of Ramadan, and of course everyone I know believed the opposition and decided to start fasting tomorrow.

The night was quiet and no security forces were seen anywhere around my area with the exception of the permanent check points and barriers.

July 20^th, first day of Ramadan, the heat wave is getting worse and electricity is acting up in many areas all around Syria. No water, no cellphones, and no 3G internet connection.

Two tanks entered my neighborhood and opened fire like every Friday, or like every day actually.

Good news: Hisham Ikhtiyar, head of the Syrian national security is dead affected by his wounds from the bombing on the 18^th. More areas are being controlled by the FSA, and many new defectors in the military.

Bad news: The number of refugees entered Lebanon increased to 30000. Midan neighborhood in Damascus was lost to the Assad’s forces.

July 21^st – 29^th, the heat, the fasting, and the shelling. That’s the triple threat we’re facing everyday now. The number of tanks that come and shoot from my area increased from one to three or four tanks. New vehicles come around now too and I don’t even know what they’re called. Areas like Jorat Al Shayyah and Khaldieh are being attacked day and night, and the night attacks leave the sky bright as day at times.

Good news: Aleppo finally moved on towards us, and after the FSA took over huge areas in the countryside they moved inside the many neighborhoods inside the city in an attempt to liberate it from Assad forces, and they are doing a good job.

Bad news: FSA had to leave some of Damascus neighborhoods and Assad forces took over again, and the numbers of casualties passed 100 a day. More bad news is that Assad forces have been gathering near Aleppo and started a counter attack trying to push FSA out of the city and they’re using air force, helicopters, tanks, missiles, and everything they have.

July 30^th, the same as the past few days with the addition of losing electricity for 11 straight hours.  No sleep at all.

July 31^st, we got electricity back at 11 AM and then water. Tanks came by like any other day and morning shelling continues until 6 PM.

10:30 PM, cellphones got disconnected after they worked for a few hours.

11 PM, electricity is gone from most areas in Homs and heavy shelling started right away and didn’t stop all night. Rocket launchers, tanks, mortar, with some sniper shots and a whole a lot of shooting.

My house was shaking with every rocket, and we all heard the sounds of the launching sounded like they were being launched from our living room.

We heard the noise that the rocket makes on its way to the target which sounds like a whistle, then when it hit its target.

It was a horrible night. We couldn’t sleep for the second night in a raw.

1:30 AM, a group of men gathered and started singing despite the heavy shelling. They sang nice songs and that really cheered us all up a bit and made us feel better. The shelling sounds of course were much louder than the singing but we tried to ignore them as much as we can, and since electricity was gone we opened up the windows to hear the singing better. Some of them had nice voices and they had no instruments of course but it really was a nice tough in such a dark night.

The singing stopped after a while and we were left with the horrible shelling sounds alone once again.

5 AM, a skirmish occurred not far away from my house. There was a lot of shooting, then a BTR opened fire, and after that they used an RPG.

After that we could only hear sniper shots until 6 AM.

I went to Damascus after that and left my family with no electricity, water, cellphones, or sleep.

Good news: FSA in Aleppo caught a number of the worst criminals in the city (Barri Family) after years of their horror.

Bad news: The Barri men were executed and filmed and that video made some bad feedback from many people. I didn’t watch the video and won’t watch it but my position is clear. I support justice but I don’t support viciousness.

August 1^st, Damascus was hot and quiet when I arrived. I went to Abaseen, Rawda, Saba Bahrat, Arnoos, Mazraa, and other areas and couldn’t hear a single gunshot. I didn’t have time to visit another areas like Midan, Kafersuseh, Tadamon, or even Mazzeh (Areas where things happen a lot) since I was on a tight schedule.

Saba Bahrat was very crowded, cars and people were all over the streets and I saw huge lines on ATM machines since people were withdrawing their salaries.

I saw many armed security forces in many areas in Damascus and many vehicles as well.

I went to Mazraa and did what I was going to Damascus to do, then went to Maysat square then back to Saba Bahrat where I checked the US dollar prices and they were down from last month.

However, I couldn’t find a good amount of dollars in the black market with such price.

August 2^nd: Tanks kept shelling areas around my neighborhood until morning after we had Suhoor, I counted till 15 then stopped and went to bed.

I went to Qusoor in the afternoon and saw massive destruction in that neighborhood, then went home.

Electricity was on, but still no cellphones or internet, and the shelling and shooting didn’t stop at Iftar that day for the first time in Ramadan.

Later that night, Annan resigned from his UN mission.  No surprise there after his failure to offer anything to solve what’s happening in Syria.

August 3^rd: A sniper went nuts and started shooting at everything all night. Streets were completely empty.

August 5^th: No tanks came around unlike the past few weeks, and we had a quiet morning in my area for the first time in months.

August 6^th: The Syrian Prime minister defected and headed to Jordan with the help of FSA. This is the biggest defection so far. We were really happy this happened. Good news don’t come often anymore.

The next few days were somewhat quiet compared to June and July, or any other month in 2012.

August 15^th: A huge explosion happened not far away from my house, couldn’t go out and see what happened since it was followed by heavy shooting.

Later that day we got news about Syrian refugees being kidnapped in Lebanon. Lebanon isn’t safe for us anymore.

August 25^th: We started that day with a huge explosion, the loudest I’ve ever heard. Some windows in my street got shattered, and I heard children crying loudly after it. It really was a very scary moment for us all. A military helicopter was seen and heard in roaming the skies right after it.

I went out to see how things are after that explosion. People were back in the streets shopping and taking care of their businesses. I saw huge piles of garbage, and the smell was very bad. Then I saw little kids playing and running around barefoot near that garbage. Sanitation and health are a big issue in Homs now. I’m very concerned about diseases.

I went home, and saw some news from Daraya, a massacre happened there. More than 200 casualties. They’re still finding bodies. 300. 344. After few days the total number of that massacre exceeded 600. This is the worst massacre we’ve seen since the Syrian revolution started in 2011, but Assads did worse ones back in 1982 in Hama. More than six hundred lives were ended in that city tonight.

August 27^th: 244 casualties. The number of daily deaths have risen so much in the past few days.

August 28^th: I went out in the morning and found that some streets in the city are coming back to life, like Malaab Street. I saw many people there selling vegetables, fruits, and chicken sandwiches. Syriatel branch was opened as well. It has been closed since February.

August 29^th: One unforgettable day. It started with tanks coming to my area since around 9 AM.

7-8 tanks passed by in less than an hour. Each opened fire 8-13 times then left.

In the meantime, reports about FSA attacking a military airport in Idleb and destroying about 10 helicopters on the ground.

At night, Bashar Assad had an interview on a local TV, I watched some of it and it sickened me. He said that the situation in Syria is “better” when we’re seeing more than 200 casualties a day for the first time! I honestly couldn’t watch the entire interview.

Right after the interview hell broke loose in many areas in Homs. Heavy shelling and massive shooting. I got news that the same thing happened in Daraa, Hama, and other cities all around Syria. Seems like they had orders to start the attacks right after his interview. What a vicious bunch.

Few hours later, news came about FSA attacking another military airport and destroying 10-13 Mig fighter jets.

Despite the fact that I got sad about these helicopters and jets since we’ve been paying them from our tax money, but they’d better off destroyed than going in the air and killing more of us.

August ended and we are once again left alone without a UN convoy, any kind of international monitoring system, and a blood hungry monster with all the Russian and Iranian weapons you can imagine. FSA has been gaining some new areas and doing some really nice operations, but that isn’t enough. Hundreds are dying every day, and more cities are being destroyed and the world is still crippled by the failure of Security Council.