Children are not as weak as you think. They are not just interested in playing, but can contribute to society and its future. This is especially true of children born during wartime. Do you know how many children today are having to take care of their families? How many find themselves far from their loved ones in order to survive? How many of those children have lost their parents, been orphaned and forced to become guardians of their younger siblings? How many children are coerced into carrying weapons and fighting against their will? Today’s children are not simply children; they are men, fighters and family guardians.
I will tell you the story of my childhood. I am someone who never knew what childhood meant, but I never once gave up hope, despite the difficult economic and social conditions that I experienced. I was born in a small village in the country district of Qamishli (Khirbet al-Thib). I never knew what it meant to play or what being happy was. I still don’t know what childhood means, as if I had been born at the wrong time.
I am now a young man, whom life and war have forced to work since he was twelve in order to support his family, while also going to school.
I sacrificed my childhood years for my father, mother and siblings because the war in Syria left my father, who had previously looked after our every need, without a job. I have two handicapped brothers, whom I had to look after and a third brother who has been missing since the beginning of the war and about whom nobody knows anything. I am the only one who helps and supports the family, even though I am the youngest.
I have had to hide my tears and sadness and bury my childhood forever.
I have had to do it for my father, mother and brothers so that they wouldn’t have to rely on someone else.
I did whatever job was available; I went to school in the morning, worked in the afternoon and studied at night.
That’s exactly how my life was. I forgot that I was a child, all I wanted was to see my loved ones smiling and I succeeded despite the difficulties.
I was happy, but war and fate stopped me from enjoying even that life. The war forced me to take the decision to leave my country and my family with all their difficulties behind. I left when I was 15.
I decided to go to Turkey. As you all know, the only way to do that is to travel illegally.
I took endless routes, during which I didn’t know whether I would survive or perish. I made three failed attempts to cross into Turkey, all three on foot. We walked six to eight hours every day, but Turkish soldiers arrested us each time. They used violence against us, they hit us, then sent us back to Syria.
I managed to cross into Turkey on the fourth attempt but Turkey was not the end of the journey. I had to continue into Europe and Greece. I made two attempts to enter on foot but Greek soldiers arrested us and sent us back to Turkey.
We slept in forests, ate insects and spent endless nights in the cold and the rain! We would hide like rats in holes under the trees. We were like goods, bartered for by buyers and sellers. The traffickers would say to each other “How much for this piece?”. They would trade human lives like animals.
In the end, I had no other choice but to try the “death boats”. I boarded one, hoping to get to Greece. No matter what I say about that boat, you can never feel the fear or live the horror I experienced, because it’s one thing hearing about it and quite another to live through it slowly and torturously.
It was a freezing night, around midnight; there were around 25 of us in the small boat, which was less than four metres long. There were many women and children among us.
We boarded the boat, but at that moment we couldn’t think of Europe or a better life, only death, nothing else.
The boat began crossing the sea. It wasn’t a 2-3 hour journey; for 6 hours we were in the middle of the sea and the only things we could see around us were darkness and the deadly water. It was that same sea that swallowed thousands of people who had attempted to cross before us.
I held the hand of a small girl, just three years old and I will never forget when she said to me “Uncle, I’m frightened”. How did she know what fear was? “Close your eyes, little one,” I replied, “and pray to God that nothing bad will befall us till six in the morning”. Fortunately, we arrived in Greece after spending 6 hours in that deadly sea, but the journey does not end here.
I love Greece very much, but I am sorry to say I can’t live here as long as my family remains in that difficult situation and needs my support. Besides, my life in Greece has become difficult.
That is the life of children from Syria, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iraq and all the countries that are suffering as a result of war. We never knew peace nor did we enjoy our childhood. We may be young but war has made us appear older than we really are.
I hope my family will join me here and I hope that every child will be reunited with its own family.
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