From Syria...With Nothing

CHAPTER 1

"Children do not create wars, but are worst affected by it"

This story is about the refugee crises being faced by many around the world. Day-to-day life isn't easy for them. Little children are forced to beg or work, as most of them have no surviving fathers- the breadwinners of the family. There is no sanitation in the camps they live in. Many are crammed in a little room.

No parents would put their child on a boat if the land is safe to live. The story is dedicated to them. May they live in peace.

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It was a beautiful morning. The fields were lush green, birds chirped and winds blew. Isa sat on the edge of tree roots, which were protruding. He loved to play flute, a gift given to him by his father on his sixth birthday. He wanted nothing but the calm nature around him and him playing the flute. It felt as if the birds were singing with him too. He felt as if he was in heaven. The rivers were so peaceful, the sky so blue. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

Suddenly, a noise broke his rhythm. He saw around him were crowds of people on a busy street. Alas! He had been dreaming. He was sitting beside a lamp post with a flute in his hand, the same flute he got from his father. Suddenly, he realized he was playing the flute for money, when he felt tired and slept, which seemed like ages and everything back to normal. He peeped into his hat, there were few coins, a chocolate bar and an orange. He was disappointed as he could not earn enough today all because he slept in the middle. He looked up and saw the day was about to end. Perhaps, he would have to return home with the very little amount he earned.

On the way back home, he saw few kids playing in the park. He thought about the times when, he and his siblings would play in the park, not far from his home. Their father would take them in the evenings. Musa, his younger brother would always ask for a candy back home. While Noah had just started speaking, he would, too demand the same in his gibberish baby language. They would laugh and play together, until the war happened and every little happiness, every little hope, was destroyed.

Their new home was a roadside tent. Although the street had almost no passersby, there were many other tents of their new neighbors, all refugees. They had traveled this far for a new life. Most of the children had taken up odd jobs to support their families. With most of the bread earners either killed or missing, the elder children were forced to sell and beg. Sometimes, there was very less to eat. The neighbors would share. Hence, everyone was a family.

Entering his 'home', Isa greeted his mother, who was stirring something in the pot. His baby sister, Safiya who was born only a few days before they were forced to abandon their home and take refuge in a camp, was playing in a corner. When she saw him, a big smile came to her face. He took her in his arms and planted kisses all over her face. Baby Safiya began giggling. She was already nine months old and would respond to anyone showering love on her or calling her name.

Just then, Musa and Noah entered, greeting everyone, "Assalamu- alaikum, we are home!" Their faces were brighter than moonlight. Holding out their small bag, they giggled happily to their mother,"Mumma, we got more than yesterday! A kind man even gave us rice. He told us to pray for his family" said Noah.

Musa was Isa's younger brother. He was six years old and elder to Noah by twenty months. While Isa would play flute and earn, these two little boys would help sell things alongside vendors. Rahim, who sold various accessories in the market, took pity on them and offered them a small time job to assist him. Because there was no sign of their father returning, the boys decided to earn. Their mother was not supportive of this, but looking at the situation she finally let the boys go. The kids would leave home around noon, pray in a nearby mosque and start with their job. They would return home by late evening with whatever they earned, and hand over it proudly to their mother.

They were telling her all the stories from today's events.

"Mumma, a tall man praised me for counting the sum correctly!" rattled Noah.

"MashAllah Noah, you are very bright." Praised his mother. The children would just have breakfast and leave home. If someone was kind enough, he would give them something for lunch, otherwise they would remain hungry for the sake of 'saving every penny earned'. Their mother would pray day and night for these days to get over soon. She would stay back and look after her youngest child. But due to shortage of supplies, she was searching job too. Sometimes, Noah would be asked to stay behind and care for her sister, while his mother would work as a domestic help.

Maryam was in deep thought about Saleh, her beloved husband, the father of her four children. When they were fleeing at night, women and children were escorted out first. The men were to leave later due to 'transport difficulties'. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, he never came back. She was just into these when suddenly, everybody's attention was caught by a little baby-word 'Da-Da'. Little Safiya finally said her first word- Father! Tears welled up in his mother's eyes at the mention of his father- the man about whom they had no news of, whom they hadn't seen for the past 7 months.

Sensing uneasiness, Isa said," Ma, what are we having for dinner? His mother, realizing the need, nodded and motioned for him to spread the table mat. Today they were having corn porridge. This was the only edible thing available for the family. His mother had gone to ask for work as a house-help, when this kind couple gave her a small chore- To cook and serve the family of 5, a husband-wife, their parents and their toddler. At the end of the day, they gave her few vegetables, a bag of corn and some milk.

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