Out of control – An involuntary journey

The following report was written by a young syrian man. The original text is in arabic and was translated by a friend (for you ;))

I lived my childhood like any kid, in a good atmosphere and I can get everything I want.. I grew up and went to primary school. There was everyone in my class. The Muslim, the Christian etc. We didn’t have any kind of sectarianism, we eat and drink by and with each others.


I have always dreamed about being a pilot. Until I realize its being just a dream and I am being instead asked to praise the president of my united and shared country. I grew up and I didn’t become a pilot. Because my government didn’t seem to be interested in making my dream any real.
When I wanted to step into my higher education, I’ve got a post from my dear government asking me
to fullfill my national service, I was 18.
Here is where I started to academically fail. I learned a lot about military life but I became a machine that obeys whatever the government asks me to do. Without hesitation or rejection.

At 20 years old, I was done with the national service and got back to my civil life.
Only to see the kids of my land shouting asking for freedom. And face-covered men that government call them (the parasites) shooting kids and men, raping women.
I saw them going out of the prisons of the dictatorship carrying weapons and taking orders from the government.
I ran back to dad asking what on earth is going on here. And he replied: „ The volcano has been activated.“ And he walked away in sadness. I didn’t understand what he meant.

It was hard for me to see all the death happening by war tools. Tanks, jet fighters and explosions.
I went travelling seeking life opportunities and tried to study and achieve what I could. But it sickened me to see how I am being treated as for being as Syrian… in other words:
A person of need.
So I decided to go back to my home land. And I realized that my country is a home leftovers, dead and under siege.
I bought a little house at (Jober) neighbourhood, and few days later the Free Syrian Army held it for their own and told me I am not one of this areas residences and that I should be either fighting with them or I leave my house behind and get myself away.

My choice was to get away. I am not killing anyone, I am a human, and I don’t think they are…
I had to see my house being destroyed while having my meal at my parents’ house.

Gardens and streets became the new homes for the families. And at this point my friends and I thought that it’s time to do something for the sake of these people. Money, medicine, food could make these people’s lives better. Soon a lot of my friends where condemned for what they have been doing and I was also accused for supporting terror backgrounds. (because I was helping the people).
The shop that was a gift of my dad was taken away from me. My friends were killed or prisoned. And my body was shot. 

After spending some time in hospitals and by the host of doctors, I went to Turkey and made a deal with a smuggler to bring me to Greece. And I went there by a little boat that is designed to carry 15 people. Well on the departure date we were 45 people struggling to find a place to stand on this boat.
Just like before. And just like how I was used to it… I just have no other choice.
I have been handed a knife from the smuggler so that I can poke the boat to drown so that the coastguard would come and pick up the people. But I refused at that time because I could see how many women and children are on-board. Anyway,
an African lady carrying a baby decided to do the job for me and held the knife.
Three hours by boat until we reached a Greek Island called Mitlini, and then I proceeded with my friend to Macedonia on foot. We walked over 10 days until we got captured by the police, which lead later to prison for about 7 days.
It was not any better than what I ran away from. Degrading us by violence and trying their best to put our dignity as low as possible. Then we were returned to Greece.


We kept trying over and over and went to a place called Davidova and found a bike shop. So we decided to buy two Bicycles and proceed with them since the way is still way too long to walk.
It took us around 20 days to reach Serbia. And we had to leave our bikes there and continue on foot.
We walked around 15 Kilometres until we reached a village, and found another smuggler there with a car. And he offered us a ride until the nearest bus station. And the cost was 100 euros per person. The ride was around 80 kilometers. We agreed and proceeded. It was a freezing cold weather. Not my favourite trekking weather. We arrived the station late, and there was no signs of life on the streets, very empty. My friend saw a small shop and he went there to get food. We found an abandon building, and we went in, seeking a place to eat our food and to hide from police. 

Someone was calling us suddenly. And we realized that there were eight thieves hiding in the same building.

…to be continued…

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