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.

A message to those who love Bashar Assad (+18)

Dear Bashar Assad lovers: This message is directed to all of you.

I am not against you loving him, the heart wants what the heart wants, right?

But there are rules that you have to follow when showing your love for him.

1-      You shouldn’t try to force me to love him, cause it simply won’t work (قال حبني و خود جحش , قالو المحبة ما بتصير دحش)

2-      Don’t kill me, or threaten me for not loving him or for hating him because that’s a personal matter and it’s not up to you, and I can love whoever I want. (الأسد أو لا أحد؟ عنجد؟)

3-      Keep your love to yourself or show it in a decent way, don’t go out in the streets like a maniac and shove his photos in our faces all day long.

4-      Accept the fact that he’s a murderer and an asshole, I mean look at Hitler, millions loved him, but that doesn’t change the fact that he was a mass murderer and a huge asshole. It’s ok to love an asshole, as long as you don’t become an asshole like him.

Now I’ll give you an example that shows how you should show your love.

You love Bashar Assad, good for you, give him a call, or send him a text, or an email, write him a love song, buy him flowers, suggest a place to meet,  and go fuck him in the ass or let him fuck you. Do your freaky thing. Get it on with him. Show him how much you love him inside you.

You love Bashar and Maher Assad? Even better, go have a 3 some and make love all night long! But be careful, Hasan Nasrallah might get jealous and want in.

You see, I love Megan Fox, but you don’t see me holding her photos in the streets, and shooting people who don’t like her. No. That’s not love. I show my love by stalking her and stealing her underwear when she’s not looking. Why can’t you do the same for Bashar Assad?

In the end, I want to tell you that I bless your love for Assad, and I really hope you score.

In fact I hope he loves you back so much that he leaves his wife and kids and runs away with you somewhere so the both of you live happily ever after.

PS. Don’t forget to buy condoms. Safety first you know!

<3

Why do the Russians want me dead?

As a Syrian freedom fighter, I keep asking myself this question. Our revolution started in Syria on March the 15^th, the Syrian regime has been killing the protestors and attacking peaceful demos ever since. The Russian leaders are on the Syrian regime’s side 100%, and are supporting it politically and militarily.

Now why do the Russians help such murderers? Why don’t they care about us, the Syrian people? Why do they want me dead?

There are no answers for these questions. It is simply because I’m asking the wrong questions.

After some serious thinking, I came to a conclusion.

The Russians don’t really care about keeping Assad or removing him. They don’t care about the Syrian regime more than they cared about the Libyan regime. And above all, they don’t care about me dead or alive, my freedom, or my rights.

The only thing that matters to the Russians is their power.

Russia is standing on the opposite side of where the United States and Europe are standing. And ever since the cold war ended, the Russians worked and still are working to create some kind of balance of powers, they want to take the place that the United States is in right now. They want to be the major power on Earth. That is what it’s all about. We’re just lost in the game.

The Syrian regime took the Russian side a long time ago, after Israel occupied Palestine and other lands, and the Russians started supporting everyone who is against Israel since Israel is a dear friend of the United States in the area. Most Arabs started looking at Russia as a good ally and at the US as the devil because of this.

Russia doesn’t really care about the Syrian regime. They don’t care about Palestine, or Iran. They only help those simply because the United States of America and Europe are supporting the other side.

If Bashar Assad became an ally of America, Russia will be the first one to support us, the people, and demand him to step down.

The Arab Spring is being supported by the west, and that’s something Russia didn’t want to see. They’re losing allies quickly, and they’ll do whatever they can to put an end to it.

The same analysis goes for the Iranian nuclear weapons, the existence of the state of Palestine, and North Korea. (I did not forget sneaky Chinese of course)

It’s not about oil, it’s not about right or wrong. It’s all about power.

We are nothing to Russia but a lousy pawn in their chess game.