Introduction
We journey through life with the belief that we’re granted a single start, a blank canvas upon which we imprint our footsteps. From the moment we draw our first breath, our personal chronicles begin to take shape, comprising a tapestry of experiences. We’re denied the luxury of revising our stories or rewriting our destinies—or so we think. From the very beginning, everything seems predetermined, even our mortalities. I once believed that the trajectory of my narrative was beyond my control, as if the conclusion had been etched in stone the moment my father inscribed my name in Arabic beside the haunting label of “Syrian.” However, as the years have unfolded, a newfound realization has taken root within me: perhaps I’m not merely a reader but the author of my tale. What if I possess the power to reshape the circumstances that have been imposed upon me? What if I can rewrite the script of my destiny?
The phrase “Life has ups and downs” used to seem trite and elusive. I comprehended the notion of experiencing good and bad days, but the concept of hurtling from one extreme to another with abruptness eluded me. Life has generously revealed to me the full spectrum of existence. It bestowed upon me a large and loving family, some of whom now lie buried beneath the rubble of war-torn ruins. It granted me a nation caught in the clutches of an interminable conflict. It provided me with a home that has ceased to offer solace. Initially, I harboured resentment toward this existence, yearning to raise my voice in protest, to wail beneath its oppressive weight, and to beg time to reverse its course. Yet, now I understand that it was all preparation. Life was dismantling the former to render something new, and change, even when necessary, can be fearsome.
I have borne witness to the full spectrum of existence—the good and the bad, the peaks and the valleys. I have danced with death and contemplated its allure, feeling the icy grip of terror. I have wept countless oceans of tears and watched my mother slip away from the shores of reality. I have beseeched every deity and written until my hands could write no more. My screams reverberated so forcefully that even the clouds quivered in response. I have held conversations with both the sun and the moon, and I have befriended the beast lurking within the recesses of my mind. Life has guided me through every twist and turn.
As a child, I possessed an awareness of the world around me, yet innocence compelled me to idolize everything. But when our illusions crumble, when our cherished ideals reveal their fangs ready to devour us, trauma ensues. How could my beloved homeland, my perfect country, descend into chaos?
I once posed a question to my father, seeking reassurance amid the cacophony of bombs and gunfire that drowned our voices. “Where is the safest place to live?” I asked. He responded with unwavering confidence, “Nothing is safer than home. Syria is our home, and nothing will harm us here.” I vividly recall declaring my desire to remain in Syria forever, for my love for this majestic land ran deep. I immersed myself in books that dwarfed my small frame, encapsulating the seven thousand years of history and culture woven into its soil.
The memories still linger—the morning trips to the bakery to savour freshly baked bread, the familiar path leading to my aunt’s house, and the sweet vendor across the street who always offered me free gum. I yearn for the warmth of family gatherings on weekend nights, the laughter echoing through the house as my cousins frolicked and my uncles regaled us with jokes. The aroma of coffee wafting from the neighbour’s house occasionally dances through my senses. I can still conjure the image of Eid celebrations, where swings and slides adorned the streets and little girls proudly flaunted their new dresses. The night lights illuminated the city, while the bustling midnight shops remained open until the break of dawn. My city was alive, its soul touching the hearts of all who set foot upon its soil, its heartbeat resounding ceaselessly.
This story, like any other, possesses a voice that yearns to be heard. It refuses to be shelved until it’s deemed satisfactory. It seethes with anger, demanding to shout at the world, to be acknowledged and understood. This story belongs not only to me but to my family and my country—a tale woven from the threads of our collective experiences.
Years have elapsed since those tumultuous times, and I’m now fulfilling my promise to my homeland. I raise my voice, resolute and unyielding, its timbre resonating with unshakeable strength. I declare to Syria that it may find solace in rest, for the world will come to know its name and remember its storied history. I affirm that my voice shall reach every corner of this planet, touching the hearts of all living beings.
This is a promise, not only to my country but to myself as well. These words bear the weight of years of struggle, etched onto each line with a pen that has known hardship. This story may be difficult to read, one that you might prefer not to believe, yet it’s a story that continues to unfold before our very eyes.
This is our rebirth—a chance to shape the narrative anew, to rewrite the chapters that have been marred by strife. From the ashes of adversity, we rise with resilience and determination. The echoes of our resilience shall reverberate through time, transcending borders and leaving an indelible mark on the tapestry of human history.
Let us embark on this journey together, united in our quest for a better tomorrow. May our voices intertwine, amplifying the collective strength of our stories. And as we move forward, let us remember that our past doesn’t define us, but rather serves as a catalyst for transformation. This is a tale of hope, resilience, and the enduring spirit of a people who refuse to be silenced.
Together, we shall forge a new chapter—one filled with compassion, understanding, and unwavering determination. Let us breathe life into this narrative, and in doing so, create a future that is brimming with possibility and boundless potential.
This is our story, and it’s far from over.
PART I: The Labor
The anticipation of a new life is a rollercoaster of emotions, simultaneously exhilarating and excruciating. When we find ourselves eagerly awaiting something fresh and transformative, a flurry of questions floods our minds, and the waiting period feels like an eternity. Such was the case when my family made the decision to embark on a quest for a better life. It was as if we were anticipating the arrival of a newborn, poised to bring about a profound change in our daily existence. However, the wait for this new chapter in our lives stretched on for more than nine arduous months, and the prolonged delay took a toll on our spirits.
At this point, it would be tempting for me to paint a picture of unbridled joy, adorning these pages with glitter to mask the darker moments. Yet, to be true to myself and to you, I must embrace vulnerability and speak honestly about the trials that preceded the triumphs. It’s in sharing the less pleasant times that the true essence of our journey comes to light, revealing the depth and significance of the eventual breakthrough.
While it’s heartwarming to witness a mother basking in the happiness of holding her newborn, we must acknowledge that without labour, the birth wouldn’t have been possible. The process of bringing new life into the world often involves moments of intense pain, piercing screams, and tears of both anguish and elation. It’s through this transformative journey, with all its trials and tribulations, that true joy emerges.
It may be tempting to skim over the pages of a story where a family ultimately finds their happy ending, avoiding the more challenging chapters. However, doing so would only provide a partial understanding of the narrative. To comprehend and appreciate the magnitude of this story, one must diligently flip through every page, embracing both the struggles and the victories. So, I implore you to accompany me on this journey, to grasp my hand, and navigate through the highs and lows together. Trust that our endeavour will soon reach its resolution, leaving us forever changed and enriched by the lessons learned along the way.
I completely agree with you! This degree has introduced me to a world of history and culture. Thank you for…
I hear your conundrum; I too suffer from a ‘title’ that doesn’t pay the mortgage…Beowulf, Dante’s Inferno, Canterbury Tales are…
Welcome
Thank you!
Good stuff.
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Anxious Thoughts 
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