A thousand hands are raised, as a thousand tears fall; peaceful slumber comes to sacred Shaam no more; homes bombed and bulldozed; families, slaughtered and massacred…hearts aching, tears cascading, minds reeling, the Muslim Ummah cannot bear the bloodshed. ‘Syria, we hear your cry…Syria, your pain has become ours.’
In the second part of our interview with Sister Salma, we traverse the remainder of her journey, experience and reflections in Sweet Sorrow…A Sister’s Sojourn to Syria. With the purpose of meeting, comforting and assisting our Syrian brothers, sisters and children through the humanitarian relief organisation, Salma and her group’s mission persevered on…
Day 2- Thursday 29/08/2013 (Continued)
Our day continued as we visited a widow and her two little daughters. Her husband’s friend had been shot and injured. Her husband knew that if he went to help his friend, he would be placing his own life in danger, but he went anyways…they both became Shaheed. Thereafter we visited another widow and her five children, four boys and a little girl. The youngest was two and a half year old Zakariyya. They live under such disheartening and pitiable conditions, two rooms, with just mattresses on the floor. Her in laws had brought her to Reyhanli, paid three months rent and then left. Neighbours generously gave her a fridge; small gas stove and shares their daily food with her. Alhumdulillah, we negotiated assistance for her through the agency.
Day 3 – Fri 30/08/2013
We checked out of our hotel and proceeded towards Kilikhan on our way to Killis. At Kilikhan we viewed the mobile clinic and mini dispensary. Here we met Rugda, a volunteer nurse, who spoke English very fluently. She shared with us that she was an engineer and so was her husband. And just as casually she mentioned her home in Hamaa. We had assumed that she was Turkish all along. She then shared her story that shook me to my very core. She had lived in Hamaa and was very well off. She said one night about ten soldiers came, forcibly broke down their front door and kidnapped her husband, taking him as a prisoner.
The next day they returned. She questioned them, ‘What do you want now?’ They wanted valuables. She shared that she then gave them her chest of jewels. Looking satisfied, they took it and left. But they returned the next day, this time walking away with all the electronics from her home. And they returned yet again. She begged of them, ‘What do u want now, you have taken everything?’ Their response was that they had now come for her. She pleaded that they allow her to inform her neighbours so that they could take care of her three sons who were asleep. They got the boys up and in a verbally abusive manner told them that they would be taking their mother away. All three boys were under ten years old. My mind reeled; I could only imagine the trauma.
She explained to us about the treatment of female prisoners, especially if they are young and beautiful. She didn’t need to explain further, we read between the lines. She stayed in prison for two weeks and then bribed a guard with thirty thousand Syrian liras to get out. She also paid one hundred thousand for the release of her husband. They took the money but didn’t release him. She shared that he was part of a prisoner exchange after six months. Once released her husband refused to live there. They left Syria and he doesn’t want to ever go back. She said she will volunteer wherever he takes her. Yet she stated that her heart is in Syria and if left to her, she would go back and die there.
Then she told us about her aunt. They had just three sons and soldiers came and shot the eldest dead in front of his Mother. The second was placed on the ground and with a knife, they ripped his open his stomach and killed him. The third son they tortured in front of his Mother.
Coercing him to recite’ lailaha ilabashar’ (na’oodhubillah) and when he refused they poured boiling oil over his tied hands. When they commanded him again, and he refused they broke his hands into six pieces, torture continued and all he kept asking was for water. They would take the water to his lips and laughing and mocking, turn the cup of water over so it spilt on the floor. Ya ALLAH, which Mother can endure such pain? To see her child suffer like this! Her aunt refuses to leave and as long as her son is in prison, she will remain in Syria. She won’t go without him. When we called the soldiers animals, she replied by saying, ‘Why do you insult the animals? They don’t do this to their own. These people are worse than animals. They are inhuman. All I could do was hold her hand and offer comfort as the tears streamed down her cheeks.
We left Killikhan for the Killis for further briefing of our program. At the Killis office, the men negotiated with the co-ordinator to allow entrance for the females into Syria the next day. The initial decision seemed positive but we still had to enter legally with our passports being stamped.
Day 4- Sat 31/08/2013
It was our last day we proceeded towards the Killis border to finally enter Syria. We had our passports stamped at the Turkish border control, because we were accompanying the men this time, our safety and security was of utmost importance. Kidnappings of foreigners and sporadic bombing are common. Walking the five hundred metres across into ‘no man’s land’ brought the reality of exactly where we were, crashing down upon me and in all honesty, I was petrified.
The danger and seriousness of the war was now a visible reality. After a rather lengthy border control procedure we entered into Syria into a town called Azaaz and taken to the refugee camp there. This iHH camp has almost fifteen thousand refugees living there. All are provided with two meals a day. They have eight massive pots in which they cook the food. Also next to the kitchen they have a massive mobile bakery producing daily bread. Across the road is a mini clinic with four doctors and one pharmacist. We walked through the tents and interacted with the refugees. Due to the large number of people we were not allowed to give them anything. It was truly heartbreaking to witness with my own eyes the reality of their displacement. Almost two years later and families were still living in tents. Beautiful, innocent children running around on the dry dusty ground. No playground, no school, no proper shower facilities and their time there indefinite. I had energy bars and sweets in my handbag but just couldn’t share it with any of them. Just so many little faces looking expectantly at you. My heart was aching, ‘Who do I give to, and who do I not give to?’ We playfully raced to the gate, hoping to bring a smile to their beautiful faces.
We then proceeded to an orphanage that hosted about fifty families. Little Naailah just came to me the moment I stretched out my hands. I didn’t let her go until the moment came that we had to leave. We handed out stationery, clothes and toys. For these basic necessities, they were extremely grateful. And our hearts went out to them. Our next stop was yet another refugee camp deep into the town of Azaaz. This was one of the new containerised village projects. Qatar Relief had sponsored this village. It consists of a hundred container- housing units, a school classroom tent, a tent Masjid and a fully equipped kitchen facility, Alhumdulillah. It was fenced and had its own water tank system and communal toilet facilities. Forty families had been settled in this village thus far. We were told that this is what the Al Imdaad’s village will also look like. The widows and families of the martyrs were given first preference to these homes.
We met with many widows and were deeply touched, and would be forevermore affected by their stories…this entire refugee camp consisted of widows whose families were killed mercilessly in this horrible war.
Later we were taken to the actual sites that were bombed, for us to witness firsthand the devastation of the bombs. A ten metre deep crater and twenty seven homes that were around it were razed to the ground. What was once an upmarket housing complex was now reduced to rubble. Yet visible signs of lives of those who once was lived there. A single shoe, pages of a school book and beautiful carpets and fittings bore testimony to the joys family life. One home that was half damaged was still being occupied. Little children came out to greet us. We shared our sweets and biscuits with them. I had been so fearful of coming here and now I couldn’t fully comprehend the resilience of these children, living here amidst the destruction, yet their lives carry on.
On our way out of Syria we had to once more persevere through passport control yet again, witnessing heart-wrenching realities of more refugees seeking asylum. We encountered a young man carrying a huge bag on his back and more bags in his hand. Brothers offered to help him with his load. Further up two young ladies stopped to drink water and rest. One carried a lovely little boy of about fifteen months old and later we met her younger child, a two week old baby. The young lady could speak English, she had been a student at the University of Allepo. They couldn’t take the fighting anymore and left with all that they could carry. They were going to Istanbul where they have relatives. We couldn’t give gifts all along and at that last minute I gave her my precious crystal, Palestine colours tasbeeh. I had to leave something precious to me in Syria. Our exit from Syria wasn’t as quick as the entry. Not many people go in but at four pm the line of Syrians departing was staggering. Their pain, their loss, their suffering and their continued struggle has left an indelible mark on my mind and heart.”
As the sojourn through Sister Salma’s experiences in Syria draw to an end and we find ourselves deeply affected by the realities she has conveyed to us, we need to ask ourselves ‘What can I do for Syria?’ For as our beloved Nabi SAW has advocated us, “The Muslim Ummah is like one body, when one part hurts, the rest of the body feels the pain too.” With this thought in mind, we find some solutions in the concluding sentiments and lessons Salma learnt and found the need to share:
“Make shukr for what you have. Be informed. Know what is going on in the world. Complacency is equivalent to supporting oppression. It is our duty to know the condition of our Muslim Families. Don’t wait for others to do the work. Do it yourself. Even if it is making dua, which is undoubtedly the greatest gift we can give to anyone. Start on micro levels. Keep in touch with family and community and then on a macro level, the ummah at large.
Your one can of food is worth millions. Never under estimate a small act of kindness. Use and assist organisations like Al Imdaad, who are on the ground. We need to learn to network. Not everyone is able to do everything. We also very much need to harness the energy of our youth. iHH has the most selfless, caring, hard-working, dedicated and committed youth who are running all these offices. All our guides, translators, drivers were under the age of thirty.
Nihaal, just twenty three years old, our interpreter and assistant, stayed with us from the time we landed in Istanbul, took flights with us and was with us through the entire mission. She carried our bags, ate and slept with us (shared a room with the ladies). She walked two hundred metres with one of the ladies to a bathroom, just so that she would not have a problem with communication. She went above and beyond her call of duty. She started volunteer work from the age of fifteen. The field officer in Kilis was only twenty six years old. He runs huge containerized village projects and his humility was remarkable. Our twenty year old driver was so well known that he was able to assist us all along. I can’t tell you how impressed we were with their work. We had our last meeting at the iHH head-office in Istanbul. We met with the deputy President of iHH. A humble man with such commendable akhlaaq and humility. When asked the secret to the organisation’s success, he simply said that they worked only for the pleasure of ALLAH. And Al Imdaad shared in this constitution too, Alhumdulillah. He shared furthermore, that they don’t clock cards; work takes priority over all us. SubhanALLAH, such commitment on all levels.
The future and the victory of this ummah lie in the aqeeda and akhlaaq of our youth. As parents we cannot deprive them of sound Islamic knowledge, we cannot lose them to the frivolous pursuits of this world and hereby waste their potential. We need to be motivational parents, friends, community members and our ulema need to constantly give us the proper guidance and support. We need to be pro-active, the ummah is in dia states. We all need to see how we can help, for undoubtedly will be answerable to Allah.”
Extracted from my article in the SA based print mag- The Muslim Woman Magazine, 2013 Edition 10
With intent on aspiring and inspiring towards the L♥√ع and Pleasure of ALLAH subhanawa’ta’ala,
Rehana Shah-Bulbulia, the author of ‘Falling In Love With Muhammad SAW’, blogs here
And tweets as @muslimahatpeace
Picture of book authored by Sister Salma ‘Maalik and Muhammad’ is a touching and realistic story of the everyday life of displaced Syrians in a refugee camp. Based on real events, this heart warming tale chronicles the story of a young disabled boy, Maalik.
and his special friend Muhammad.
As the bitter cold winter approaches, the Syrian refugees; having lost their homes, families, businesses and even basic comforts, the provision of adequate shelter is vital. Purchase of the book serves a double purpose and reward. Not only does the book eloquently and sensitively portray the lives of the refugees, it will also assist in the building of a Container Village that the Al Imdaad Foundation is establishing inside Syria.
60% of the sale of the book will be donated to this noble project.
MAALIK AND MUHAMMAD: The perfect investment, for the dunya and the Akhirah.
Scroll Through My Thoughts...RSB 