The Freedom to Live

By Ali Kattee / Winter 2023

It has been more than ten years since I left home. Since my family and I were made to leave our home. A war in Syria started that caused more than 10 million civilians to escape the country and leave everything behind. That is more than half of the population. The scenes of joy and happiness turned into fear and crying almost instantly. Many of us lost our parents, siblings, and other loved ones. Leaving everything behind, chasing freedom.

What is freedom? Or what was that freedom in our eyes? This freedom that cost us way more than we could handle and took our home away from us. It was not something we could see but a sense of what others might have had across the Syrian border. It was a feeling of hope for a new and fresh start. The journey was difficult and unfulfilled for many. It is easy for stories to lose their impact when written in an essay however I hope to be able to leave an impact on you today.

In order to get a better understanding of the situation and feel more connected to the story, I would like to share some moments that always lived in my head as a child and until now. These moments are very valuable to me because they hold something I no longer have. Home, a place I lost. A place where I felt that I belong, and free from obstacles put in this world. One of the memories that will always live in me is when I was 10 years old, and the war hadn't knocked on the doors yet. I just came back from school with no homework or duties to do, and the weather was nice and warm. My dad came back from work and we decided to eat lunch outside under the cranberry tree in our backyard. Me and my siblings started playing hide and seek, my mother then invited our neighbors for a cup of tea. Whenever I think of home, I instantly encounter this memory. Looking back at that time, I really couldn't ask for anything else. We had everything we asked for, our financial condition was very good, we had a big house with a big piece of land, guards, and maids were around the house serving us. Despite that, I still wasn’t satisfied. I always asked for a change, and wished for something crazy to happen.

A year later, my wish came true. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and clear. My older brother and I were playing cards outside with the neighbors . Then all of the sudden everything changed. A voice of explosion blew our ears, sent us 2 feet above the ground, and created a fear of death. We didn’t know what happened and didn’t have the chance to regroup. We immediately headed outside to see a sky full of smoke. This sky that was blue and clear turned into gray, taking the sun away from us. We didn’t know what happened but all we wanted was to find our parents. Before we knew it , another explosion happened that dropped everyone on the ground. Our house and the neighbor’s house are located away from the city, meaning that there are no buildings around us to hide behind. The only thing we could hide behind was the wall splitting our land from the other lands. A voice of gunshots rang out meaning that clashes were going on. We could hear people screaming on the other side of the wall, we could almost see the bullets on top of our heads. We kept running while taking the wall as our shield until we saw our family running towards us. Our parents gave us a quick hug and my dad then proposed the idea to keep running behind the wall until we get to the small gate that connects our land with the neighbors.

The neighbor had a basement that we sought refuge in. We sneaked in there safely and waited for the clash to end. More than 30 people were hiding in that basement with very little food and supplies. The majority of us were kids, and my grandparents were there too. The sound of the gunfire hasn't stopped or slowed down since then. Some of us lost hope and thought that we could never leave again. More than two nights passed and clashes were still going on. My grandfather suddenly stood up and said “if I am going to die, I want to die at my home, not here” and started walking out. My father tried to stop him and convinced him to stay one more night hoping for the battle to end. I remember thinking that even if the battle ended, it would never be the same for us. The place we called home lost something, it lost the peace aspect. The next day came and the gunshots stopped, so people started leaving the basement. The first to leave was my grandfather, accompanied by my father. We later were given the green lights to leave the basement. The destruction that was caused by this battle left a big mark. All the glasses at our house were destroyed, and ashes were scattered.

The battle was between armed rebels and a military checkpoint, and the explosions were caused by rocket missiles. Our house was located exactly in the middle of the battle, making our land a battlefield. This has been happening for all the Syrian people forcing them to find a new home. Our life was never the same after that day, my father booked three tickets to the US for my grandparents and me. I was leaving home not knowing that it will never come back again. The cranberry tree, the neighbors house, my friends, my school, and my childhood would never see me again. I left my home with mixed emotions, sad that I am leaving everything behind without the rest of my family, and at the same time happy to go to the US. The reason I was happy was due to what we used to see on TV. Disneyland, entertainment, candies, and freedom. I have always thought that the US was like heaven, where you would see cartoon characters walking in the streets, just like the Space Jam movie. I packed my stuff and said goodbye to my friends and family and started the journey to the airport.

The Airport was about three hours away from our home, but it took more than nine hours by bus to get there. There was a military checkpoint every mile, and every time they had to go in and spread terror. Two armed men would enter the bus and start screaming and shouting at us, and if someone spoke up, they would beat him up in front of us. There was a young man who was with his mother sitting in the back, and I assume that he was trying to escape the country before getting called for duty. Unfortunately, at one of the checkpoints, they asked for everyone's ID and did some background checks. One armed soldier came back to the bus with a creepy smile and went straight to the man who was trying to escape and kicked him in front of his mother. The soldier started yelling “you coward, son of a ****, you are betraying your country, we will torture you and punish you”, and pulled him outside. The mother started crying and begged to let him go but they wouldn’t listen and pushed her away. The lady kept crying in the back, everyone went to console her. It was probably the last time she saw him. The journey to the airport continued, and we were getting closer and closer to the airport, it felt like forever, just like the time in the basement. Hoping to get out and just run around, play hide and seek with my friends, and enjoy my childhood. My childhood, my home, and the freedom that was stolen from me in a glance. Can any of that be restored, I was thinking to myself on the way to the airport. If so, what would be the price? Is there a time machine so I can go back in time and choose a different wish? “I don't want a change in my life any more” I said in a whisper.

We finally arrived at the airport and headed inside. We checked in and sat waiting for the gate to open. The emotions I was feeling, from fear, guilt, happiness, relief, excitement all at once. Knowing that it will be finally over, and I will finally be able to continue living my childhood on the other side of the world. We were definitely blessed to have another citizenship that saved us from many troubles and obstacles. Other people didn’t have it easy as I did. I didn’t have to hop over fences, swim across the ocean, or stay in a refugee camp. But many did, such as my mother's side of the family, who had been through all of it. When they escaped, they crossed the Turkish borders by foot, carrying whatever they could on their back. They had to sit and sleep in extremely uncomfortable places in an extreme environment. We weren’t able to help them much because we were barely able to help ourselves, but we were able to take them out form the refugee camp and rent an apartment for them to stay in. The situation was slightly better since they didn’t have to sleep in the cold weather. No job opportunities were available for the Syrian refugees since they didn’t speak the language. The only job that was available was working in a warehouse 12 hours a day for a minimum wage. Even doctors and Engineers had to do the labor job since their degrees didn’t cross the borders with them. Even if they did, the employers would find an excuse to not let them in.

My younger uncle, who graduated from University of Aleppo in linguistics, had to work in a Turkish warehouse 8 hours away from his family just to survive. Many like him had to do the same, when even sometimes they wouldn't get paid if they drop something or misbehave. And the majority of the time they would be getting paid less and the employer would tell them that they don’t have enough money to pay them, so they would say “ we will pay you the rest next month”. These refugees who went through a lot and struggled to pass the borders get enslaved and humiliated. My younger uncle had enough and decided to quit the job with several other Syrian refugees after they had enough of enslavement and oppression. My uncle and his friends realized that they couldn't live like that anymore and decided to get on the boat to Europe risking everything they had hoping for better job opportunities and quality of life. My grandmother had to sell all the gold she had in order for her son to get on the boat.

Unlike my bus ride to the airport, my uncle's journey was on a completely different level of difficulty. A small boat was over packed with Syrian refugees who had no idea what was waiting for them. The boat started moving towards the ocean and the hopes started to increase. The plan was for the boat to drop them close to the Greek beach and then they would have to walk and use illegal transportation through Serbia, Hungary, Austria, and finally Germany so they could seek asylum. According to my uncle, out of 50 people, only 7 made it. Usually, even fewer people make it. The first obstacle my uncle faced was only a few hours after the boat moved. The boat only traveled half the destination until it started sinking. Waves were coming at them and each one dropped them below the water and floated again. The boat made it close to the sea borders of Greece and the trip organizers told the refugees to jump in water and help would come soon. People jumped into the water and started swimming towards the beach. Half of the people drowned since no help was reached. The majority were seniors and newborn babies. My uncle and his friends were able to get to the beach safely and continued their journey.

It didn't get easier from there where the most difficult part is to not get caught. The Syrians who got caught in Greece or Hungary were tortured and sent back to Turkey. The journey continued and the closer my uncle got to Germany, the fewer the people that made it. Thankfully after two weeks of walking and hiding, my uncle and his friends made it to the German borders and sought asylum. Only seven people made it that far and all of them were young men. It took my uncle two years to settle and learn the language, then started sending help to his family who were still struggling in Turkey. There were two major types of Syrian families after the war, ones who made it to Europe and produce enough money to survive and send help to their families in Turkey and Syria, and the other type is the family that is living on that support that is coming from overseas.

After five years of staying and working in Germany, my younger uncle finally got his citizenship and was allowed to travel outside of Germany. He was finally able to see his mother and siblings again. Life was still difficult for the Syrians, but they were finally adapting to the new lifestyle. Some Syrians made it far and were able to pick up from where they left off, some struggled in the beginning and were able to get back up, and some just couldn’t get back up. I can only tell the stories that I or my family witnessed. There are many more stories that are more terrifying and tragic. However, with no doubt, the most recent events in Turkey and Syria made their experience and life more tragic. All of a sudden, when everyone was asleep, a huge earthquake hit the Turkish and Syrian land. This incident caused as many casualties and terror as the Syrian war did. Three hundred thousand building units were completely destroyed causing more than 20 million people homeless in one night. My grandmother, my two uncles, and their families were victims of this incident. Unfortunately not all of them survived, one of my uncles didn’t make it from below the destroyed building. My grandmother and older uncle survived miraculously, as they were able to leave the building just before it collapsed.

This mother's family and other families had to live through the same situation twice. They had to flee leaving everything behind just wanting to survive. Many people had to sleep in parks and inside cars in severe weather. Some people survived the earthquake but couldn’t make it through the severe weather. The Turkish government was later on able to afford the majority of the citizens' tents or college dorms to stay in momentarily. That is where my grandmother is located now. My uncle in Germany is currently trying his best to bring her to him legally. The process is long, but the hope is still there, to find a home, where they would be able to live in peace, or just live. We Syrians didn’t choose to leave our home and get on the boat. We did choose to humiliate ourselves and ask for people to help us. We asked for freedom, not the freedom of speech, or education, or even movement. We just wanted the freedom to live.

The resilience and strong willing of the Syrian people to live is rooted from the Islamic belief. As it is mentioned in the Quran, “That Indeed with hardship comes ease”. Meaning, God promises the people who are struggling and persevering through hardship a immense reward in this life and in the afterlife. Indeed this past experience made me value life and look at it differently. When I was asked about the meaning of freedom, I was interested to hear from the others about what they think it means. Because the meaning of freedom can tell you something about the person’s experience. The meaning changes based on the circumstances the individual goes through. When the war first started, people were asking for freedom of speech. When that was denied, people asked for freedom of movement, and when that was also denied, people just asked for freedom of living in peace, and even that was denied. So when I was asked what freedom is? I immediately thought about the struggle the Syrians had, and replied “freedom is subjective”.