Mist materialized from my mouth as I breathed the cold air of Turkey. I bowed, my hands in front of me, carrying an envelope.
"Shukran," (Which meant thank you in Syrian.) I said to the man in front of me, looking straight into his eyes.
The man picked me up and kissed me on the forehead, accepting the envelope. "Thank you, thank you. Thank you very much."
And in the envelope, was money. Money to help them live good lives. Money to help them buy food and pay the rental for their house.
And the man, was a refugee. A Syrian refugee.
And me, I was here to give love to them. An infinite amount of love.
I gave the man a firm handshake.
This was Turkey. 97% Asia, 3% Europe, and about 2°C. Yeah, it was cold here.
Me and my family were in Turkey to help the Syrian refugees. We were actually supposed to be going to go to Vietnam on holiday, but cancelled the trip because of this opportunity to come to Turkey to help the Syrian refugees.
We had come with a non-profit organisation called Tzu-Chi Foundation. This opportunity to see and go into the lives of Syrian refugees was a rare opportunity, so we decided to go take a look. Other than that, we were also helping the refugees, letting them live better lives.
The day before, we had given out backpacks to the children in the international school Tzu-Chi had opened for the Syrian refugees. All of the students in the school were refugees from Syria, but if you looked at the enormous smile on their faces, you would never be able to decipher the fact that they were refugees.
The kids in the school all had talent. Real talent. They performed and sung some amazing and wondrous songs to welcome us to Turkey. If any of them become a world known singer one day, I wouldn't be surprised.
Other than that, when we were giving out financial aid to the refugees (the adults), a kid came to me to say thank you. At first, I didn't know what he was trying to tell me, but when I found out, I was very touched. The kid had came just to say thank you to me, just because of a backpack. And sometimes, we take things for granted. We complain because we don't get what we want, but to them, to the refugees, something little to us, is something big for them.
The next day, we conducted some home visits, where we went to some refugees's homes to visit them. One case we went to stood out from the others.
The family was a family of 8, containing 3 boys and 3 girls. The oldest kid (or teenager, I should say) in the family was 18 years old, while the youngest was 3 years old. They had all been born in Syria, and had escaped to Turkey. Their father was sent to jail for doing nothing wrong, and was in jail for 3 years before he was released.
After being helped by some organization, their father was able to go to Turkey. Unfortunately, the soldiers came again, and asked the kids in the family where their father was, but they didn't know.
Because of all that, the soldiers assumed that their father was against them (the party), and the family, including the kids, soon found themselves in damp cells filled with mice, separated from each other.
I don't know who made up this theory, but it's the worst theory I've ever heard of, I thought. For god's sake, they were kids! Why send them to jail for doing nothing wrong? Even worse, why torture the kids? Why make them live in such a miserable place? You've literally taken their dreams away. For the rest of their lives, they're probably going to be scared!
In jail, they got severely tortured. Some of them got raped, while something happened to one of the kid's legs, but I have no idea what. Let's just say it didn't look very good.
One year later, the two parties made a trade. One party would return all the soldiers that were taken captive, while the other would have to release all their prisoners. Because of the deal that was made between the two parties, the family was released from jail.
Throughout a lot of sophisticated work, the family finally gained contact with each other and were able to unite in Turkey. We also found out that the family had only moved into the room they were renting for 15 days (so far) only. After they shared their story, lots of people's eyes were teary and watery. I looked at the kids' face. Their smile had drifted away from their faces, and on their face was a frown. Together with the family, I shared their grief and madness, and was also mad at the people for starting this prolonged war. They had beaten their father so bad that something was wrong with his bones, and he wasn't able to lift his hands up higher than his heads. The most he could go was to his ears. I felt really bad for them.
We also got to learn about and meet some people who came from Syria. I got to meet a 16 years old girl named Najwa Muhammad Khalf. But Najwa's life was a sad and deary one. Najwa lost both her legs during the bombings in the war-torn
city of Aleppo
, but managed to be rescued
by relatives and escaped to the Turkish border about 1,200km away. Not only did she have to deal with her legs, she also had to deal with the grief from losing all 11 members of her family, as they were all killed. Fortunately, she has now been given some prosthetic legs, and is now able to walk like a normal person. In the future, Najwa wants to be a doctor so she can help other people in need.
I also got to meet Ahmed Jned, who was 21 years old, and I thought that he had a great story behind him. He escaped from Syria carrying some clothes, some essentials, but also something that he really valued. His test results. He came to Turkey to seek education
, and really wanted to complete his studies. Unfortunately, when he came to Turkey, he realized that he needed to work to earn a living. Now, after his working hours, he comes to the international school that Tzu Chi set up to learn.
When asked what he thought the leaders of the parties that were fighting in Syria were thinking in their minds, he came up with an answer that I think is a very short but powerful answer: "Maybe they don't have a mind." In the future, he wishes to become a pharmacist.
I felt really bad for all these refugees. They were forced to leave their homes, the place that they had grown up in. The country that they loved. They were forced to leave that country. The country, that to them, was their homeland. All because of the war. And every one of them, had a different story to tell. For some of them, they had developed a trauma because of the war, while for others, the war had erased the smile and expression off their faces. This war, had brought our planet, the beautiful planet Earth, into a whole new dimension. A sad, deary, dimension. All the CO2 emissions because of the war. All the people dead because of the war. All the innocent people, once a civilian, now a refugee, just because of the war. But refugees, are still human beings. Homo-sapiens. And there is something I strongly believe in. I strongly believe in giving back to the community, and I think that it's our responsibility to help the Syrian refugees in any way we can.
