Published : 30-11-2015
By: Fayez Abu Eid
It was like a dream, as I looked from the window of the house where I had to resort with my family after we had left our house in Palestine Street near the Yarmouk Municipality and Al Tadamon Neighborhood, escaping battles, clashes, and shells that targeted thatarea.
We lived in a permanent danger, yet we stayed in our house until a shell landed at the roof.Then we decided to resort to another house inside the Yarmouk camp south of the Syrian capital, Damascus.
On 16-12-2012, I saw crowds holding their bags and belongings and leaving the camp priorto the shelling that targeted Al Falouja School and Abdulqader Al Husseni mosque with rockets by the Syrian warplanes, which resulted in more than 150 victims and 250 injuries.
I rushed to the targeted place, and I was shockedas I saw bodies and shreds on the grounds and walls; I will never forget my friend's mother who was shocked looking at her son's body; the one she loved more than herself.
Feelings of anger and pain overwhelmed me as I went back to my house that night; I woke up the next day to loud voices and noises. I was surprised to find hundreds of people leaving the camp. One was carrying his father on his back; another was dragging his sick mother; women and children were crying and terrified. I was shocked and confused. What should I do? My wife and children are behind me looking scarily at people and at me as well. The voice of my 8-year-daughter awaked me. “Father, I am scared. I do not want to die!”And then she burst into tears.
I held my tears back and decided to leave the Yarmouk camp with the crowd, although we did not know where to go, we only wanted to leave.
We packed our bags hurriedly, and followed the departures.However, we were showered by the snipers’ rifles. A woman, who was only a few steps away from us, was shot; her screaming and blood was enough to spread more fear and terror to every one close to her. Women and children were loudly screaming.
We managed to leave the camp and went to Al Zahira Damascene neighborhood,and then we took a taxi and headed to Barza housing in Damascus seeking security and safety. Our arrival coincided with a snowy day.
Owing to our large number, we had to live in unfinished apartment that lacked any means of heating, andwater was leaking from the ceiling; it was the most difficult night as I did not sleepbecause I started having flashbacks of what I was reading about the trouble, tragedy, and pain endured by our people who have been displaced from their lands in 1948. This is the second Nakba.We are experiencingthe same pain and suffering after 67 years.It is the same bitter taste that our parents and grandparentshad experienced.
After two months, the security situation in Barza deteriorated due to clashes between the regular army and the Syrian armed opposition groups, leading to shelling and explosions.
Four explosive cars exploded within one day in the vicinity of our house; we lived a state of fear and panic.My wife and children were screaming. The fact that I could still heartheir screams was the reason that made me decides to leave Syria and go to Lebanon, although I knew that I will suffer there, yet, I was seeking security and safety for my family.
We relived the Nakba with all its details; however, this time it was more dangerous and difficult than the 1984 Nakba because the enemy was well known and merciless, but today the enemy is the brother and the friend, since the betrayal of a brother or a friend is more painful.
By: Fayez Abu Eid
It was like a dream, as I looked from the window of the house where I had to resort with my family after we had left our house in Palestine Street near the Yarmouk Municipality and Al Tadamon Neighborhood, escaping battles, clashes, and shells that targeted thatarea.
We lived in a permanent danger, yet we stayed in our house until a shell landed at the roof.Then we decided to resort to another house inside the Yarmouk camp south of the Syrian capital, Damascus.
On 16-12-2012, I saw crowds holding their bags and belongings and leaving the camp priorto the shelling that targeted Al Falouja School and Abdulqader Al Husseni mosque with rockets by the Syrian warplanes, which resulted in more than 150 victims and 250 injuries.
I rushed to the targeted place, and I was shockedas I saw bodies and shreds on the grounds and walls; I will never forget my friend's mother who was shocked looking at her son's body; the one she loved more than herself.
Feelings of anger and pain overwhelmed me as I went back to my house that night; I woke up the next day to loud voices and noises. I was surprised to find hundreds of people leaving the camp. One was carrying his father on his back; another was dragging his sick mother; women and children were crying and terrified. I was shocked and confused. What should I do? My wife and children are behind me looking scarily at people and at me as well. The voice of my 8-year-daughter awaked me. “Father, I am scared. I do not want to die!”And then she burst into tears.
I held my tears back and decided to leave the Yarmouk camp with the crowd, although we did not know where to go, we only wanted to leave.
We packed our bags hurriedly, and followed the departures.However, we were showered by the snipers’ rifles. A woman, who was only a few steps away from us, was shot; her screaming and blood was enough to spread more fear and terror to every one close to her. Women and children were loudly screaming.
We managed to leave the camp and went to Al Zahira Damascene neighborhood,and then we took a taxi and headed to Barza housing in Damascus seeking security and safety. Our arrival coincided with a snowy day.
Owing to our large number, we had to live in unfinished apartment that lacked any means of heating, andwater was leaking from the ceiling; it was the most difficult night as I did not sleepbecause I started having flashbacks of what I was reading about the trouble, tragedy, and pain endured by our people who have been displaced from their lands in 1948. This is the second Nakba.We are experiencingthe same pain and suffering after 67 years.It is the same bitter taste that our parents and grandparentshad experienced.
After two months, the security situation in Barza deteriorated due to clashes between the regular army and the Syrian armed opposition groups, leading to shelling and explosions.
Four explosive cars exploded within one day in the vicinity of our house; we lived a state of fear and panic.My wife and children were screaming. The fact that I could still heartheir screams was the reason that made me decides to leave Syria and go to Lebanon, although I knew that I will suffer there, yet, I was seeking security and safety for my family.
We relived the Nakba with all its details; however, this time it was more dangerous and difficult than the 1984 Nakba because the enemy was well known and merciless, but today the enemy is the brother and the friend, since the betrayal of a brother or a friend is more painful.
