Syrian Stories Part II

Getting him to tell me his story was a little like pulling teeth. But I was understanding, I don't know if he saw it that way. The only thing that mattered was the story, right? Well if he was the story, then he is what mattered. He believed me enough.

He fled from Syria, at his father's request. He was from Latakia. And for the most part, so it seemed, it was a city that had yet to be bombarded by the civil conflict. But he didn't realize that even the Human Rights Watch recently reported government forces torturing male victims in the city's detention centers. He thought his family had nothing to worry about, but he didn't know that victims from Latakia were reporting their families were threatened and beaten. 

Initially he wanted to connect me with 2-of his friends, who he later said in a text message would refuse to give talk about their story. He didn't think his own was significant, but after assuring him I wouldn't use his name, he agreed to tell me more. Then he was afraid his English wouldn't be good enough. He tries hard and often looses the words he wants to communicate. I told him to communicate in Arabic. He did. 

He told me that he had money to get through the border, that someone he knew was able to get him across without any trouble. But he is continuing to borrow money from his father and doesn't know what he'll do next. He's been here a month, he said, and was staying at a hotel that he only had to pay around 300 dollars a week, but it was getting tiresome because he wasn't always eating. He got up and often wonders the city, walks by the Sea and then off to bar where he can get a beer before going back to his room. He thought about going to a church where they were helping Syrians and feeding them everyday but he didn't think God would like for him to be in a church. He only liked Jesus when things were ok, and right now? They are not. Going to the UNHCR frightens him to, no amount of assuring would rescue his anxiety. What if they were to send him back, he asks me. He's not sure he can go and ask for their help. 

He was waiting, he told me, for an invitational letter from his relative to France. Once he received this letter, he could apply for a visitor's Visa to the country. But it had not come yet, and he was starting to debate whether or not he wanted to go to France. What would he do there? What if he stayed longer than his Visa and got caught? He'd be deported, he would be forced to fight in the war. He doesn't want to, he's terrified. He's never been attacked, he's never been in trouble with authorities. Even so, he's afraid, more than he's ever been. 

He's a refugee without status, without a job, without hope, and time is running out.