Last week, the Duke group went to Mafraq, which is a town around 15 minutes away from the Syrian border, which was approximately an hour and a half away from Amman.
We drove by Zataari Camp along the way, which is a Syrian refugee camp.
We drove into the town and it immediately reminded me of my time in Om Rassass, a small village in the Badia. Some of us walked up a small hill to look at Syria. We could see a Syrian town from where we were at, but my iPhone could not get a great picture.
It was kind of surreal to think about all the war and destruction that was happening just beyond that border, but here we were in this house completely safe on Jordanian land.
We were having Iftar with our director's family and some Syrian refugees. The food was pretty amazing.
The women all sat inside while the men sat outside, and after we finished the food we started pa ssing around sweets to the women. We took some time to talk to the refugees, and it was difficult since a lot of the people in the group did not know enough Arabic to continue the conversation. In my broken colloquial and formal Arabic I was able to listen to their stories.
I first sat with three sisters, their mother, and their family friend. They were all from Damascus also known as al-Sham. The family friend has been in Jordan for four years and the three sisters and mother have been living in Jordan for one year. Collectively, they were taking care of five boys and four girls all who I assumed were born in Syria. The topic of Syria and how it used to be came up and they started telling us about how beautiful Syria used to be and how great their lives and homes were. Then after the war began they lost family members and the women and children fled Syria while the men stayed behind. One of the sisters asked if we wanted to see a picture of her husband, and we of course said sure. After some searching on her phone she pulled up a picture of her husband, but he was dead in the picture. I haven't ever really seen a dead body before, and there I was staring at a man's dead face. I still have the picture of his face in my mind.
On the drive back I couldn't get the image of the woman's husband out of my mind. I couldn't help feeling incredibly sad thinking about her children not growing up with a father and the horrible things they must have experienced. I wondered if she would ever get married again.
This summer I've begun to realize how complicated life is. I know that may sound incredibly naive, but I've always been this idealist and optimist always wanting to find ways to conquer problems and believing that anything is possible. I've had my fair share of issues as a child that have dramatically shaped who I am and my views on the world, but I've been able to get through them believing that the future has something better in store. I felt really broken listening to their stories because it really has dawned on me how unfair life is. Here right in front of me were people that went through a war that I've been hearing about in the news and class. What does the future have in store for them? Syrian children, who are the future of Syria are in places like Zataari camp, are receiving no education. How is Syria going to move forward? I feel that I should not be as affected as I was because it wasn't like I went through what these women went through, but at the same time I just don't feel the same. I get deeply affected by these unfair situations, and it kills me to be living my normal life. It didn't feel right hearing these stories one day and then going out to cafes and clubs in Amman the next day. Maybe I am just being too young and naive.
It's just depressing because for the first time in my life I felt that the optimist in me is dying.
Today for Iftar, my roommate and ate with the neighbors who live downstairs. The grandmother in the family wanted just us two to come eat with them, which felt kind of strange at the time, but at the same time shows how welcoming and inviting people in Jordan are. They are a Syrian family who left Syria 2 years ago and luckily found a new home here. The family consisted of a grandmother, a mother and father, and three children who were 4, 3, and 1. Needless to say, the family had almost no possessions. The living space was big, but barely any furniture or even windows since they were living in the basement. The food was delicious, but unfortunately because they didn't understand why I was vegetarian I was eating pieces of chicken in my food. My stomach felt upset, but it's getting better.
I felt incredibly inspired by the family. The kids had no toys and the family really had no possessions yet they were so happy to be together. They told us about their life in Syria, which sounded so beautiful. Now they have to start over, but after seeing the resilience and warmth of their family I knew that they were going to make it. I felt much more hopeful and incredibly happy that there were success stories like theirs of Syrian people who are fled the war, but are getting aid and doing everything they can to better their lives.
We drove by Zataari Camp along the way, which is a Syrian refugee camp.
We drove into the town and it immediately reminded me of my time in Om Rassass, a small village in the Badia. Some of us walked up a small hill to look at Syria. We could see a Syrian town from where we were at, but my iPhone could not get a great picture.
It was kind of surreal to think about all the war and destruction that was happening just beyond that border, but here we were in this house completely safe on Jordanian land.
We were having Iftar with our director's family and some Syrian refugees. The food was pretty amazing.
The women all sat inside while the men sat outside, and after we finished the food we started pa ssing around sweets to the women. We took some time to talk to the refugees, and it was difficult since a lot of the people in the group did not know enough Arabic to continue the conversation. In my broken colloquial and formal Arabic I was able to listen to their stories.
I first sat with three sisters, their mother, and their family friend. They were all from Damascus also known as al-Sham. The family friend has been in Jordan for four years and the three sisters and mother have been living in Jordan for one year. Collectively, they were taking care of five boys and four girls all who I assumed were born in Syria. The topic of Syria and how it used to be came up and they started telling us about how beautiful Syria used to be and how great their lives and homes were. Then after the war began they lost family members and the women and children fled Syria while the men stayed behind. One of the sisters asked if we wanted to see a picture of her husband, and we of course said sure. After some searching on her phone she pulled up a picture of her husband, but he was dead in the picture. I haven't ever really seen a dead body before, and there I was staring at a man's dead face. I still have the picture of his face in my mind.
On the drive back I couldn't get the image of the woman's husband out of my mind. I couldn't help feeling incredibly sad thinking about her children not growing up with a father and the horrible things they must have experienced. I wondered if she would ever get married again.
This summer I've begun to realize how complicated life is. I know that may sound incredibly naive, but I've always been this idealist and optimist always wanting to find ways to conquer problems and believing that anything is possible. I've had my fair share of issues as a child that have dramatically shaped who I am and my views on the world, but I've been able to get through them believing that the future has something better in store. I felt really broken listening to their stories because it really has dawned on me how unfair life is. Here right in front of me were people that went through a war that I've been hearing about in the news and class. What does the future have in store for them? Syrian children, who are the future of Syria are in places like Zataari camp, are receiving no education. How is Syria going to move forward? I feel that I should not be as affected as I was because it wasn't like I went through what these women went through, but at the same time I just don't feel the same. I get deeply affected by these unfair situations, and it kills me to be living my normal life. It didn't feel right hearing these stories one day and then going out to cafes and clubs in Amman the next day. Maybe I am just being too young and naive.
It's just depressing because for the first time in my life I felt that the optimist in me is dying.
Today for Iftar, my roommate and ate with the neighbors who live downstairs. The grandmother in the family wanted just us two to come eat with them, which felt kind of strange at the time, but at the same time shows how welcoming and inviting people in Jordan are. They are a Syrian family who left Syria 2 years ago and luckily found a new home here. The family consisted of a grandmother, a mother and father, and three children who were 4, 3, and 1. Needless to say, the family had almost no possessions. The living space was big, but barely any furniture or even windows since they were living in the basement. The food was delicious, but unfortunately because they didn't understand why I was vegetarian I was eating pieces of chicken in my food. My stomach felt upset, but it's getting better.
I felt incredibly inspired by the family. The kids had no toys and the family really had no possessions yet they were so happy to be together. They told us about their life in Syria, which sounded so beautiful. Now they have to start over, but after seeing the resilience and warmth of their family I knew that they were going to make it. I felt much more hopeful and incredibly happy that there were success stories like theirs of Syrian people who are fled the war, but are getting aid and doing everything they can to better their lives.