By Insia Zaidi
It’s Friday so you go to your local mosque and you find it stinks of human flesh. You return back to your neighborhood just to see your home burnt to shreds. You need to see a doctor to get your wounds checked, and on your way, you see dogs gnawing on the bare bones of children. You want to visit your parents and pass by a plethora of emaciated, bruised daughters. You walk towards the school to pick up your son, but you’re afraid you may see a handcuffed pregnant sister or a brother whose body is scarred by cigarette burns or an elderly whose spine protrudes out of his back. You’re reunited with your son and feel the gravity suck your knees to the ground where you’re met eye-to-eye with his unknowing, wholesome gaze.
It may be easy to become desensitized to atrocities that occur thousands of miles away but, considering almost half of Syrian refugees are children, think back to your earliest moment in which you felt loss. I remember I was four years old when I witnessed my father cry for the first time. He had just gotten off the phone with someone back in India and his initial slow tears down his jaw quickly turned into an irritable, defeated weeping. I don’t remember if I knew that his mother has passed, but I do remember sharing his grief because he felt lost—and because I felt loss.
It doesn’t take adult or detailed explanation to feel pain or heartache. But, as the shock and immediacy of the loss fades, we tend to slowly disregard others who are still suffering. Our negligence, in turn, further isolates their misery and reinforces their sorrow and loneliness and they are left to disintegrate until they become dehumanized causalities and just a statistic for the rest of the world. However, these are people. And, these people not only endure Syria’s brutal reality, but also struggle under the constant threat of ISIS. The more fortunate ones are able to escape to countries like Turkey or Germany, but most resettle somewhere else within Syria jumping back into an incessant, vicious cycle where their life and livelihood is constantly at risk. And, even for the ones who do escape, they must start from square one, travail and implore their way into a foreign society regardless of whether or not they own certification/license for their qualifications.
But these atrocities aside, we’ve all experienced some sort of deprivation despite how trivial and have at some point felt in dire need of consolation, comfort and support. Ask yourself what you would want from someone who is a position of greater power, wealth and health. Would you continue feeding your son rotten bread and have your wife sleep in a broken tent on a mud-covered surface or would you seek people to offer you an opportunity for an improved life and home where more laughter and happier tears can be shared? It is our humanitarian responsibility to hold the escaping Syrians’ grief in our hearts, understand their loss and give to them what would we seek were the tables turned at our expense.
More than 800,000 people have crossed the Mediterranean and Aegean so far this year, fleeing war, persecution and violence in Syria, Afghanistan, Iraq, Eritrea, and other countries. For many, the choice to embark on such dangerous journeys seems the only way to give their children a chance of survival and safety.
As winter approaches, more support is needed urgently to continue saving lives and protecting families forced to flee their homes.
More than 2 million Syrians have fled their country, according to the United Nations refugee agency. With nowhere to go and often with just the clothes on their backs. We launched a campaign for Syrian people who are living refugee camps in Turkey and Europe. Winter is coming and those people need your help.
Ways to contribute:
1. Donate Blankets
2. Donate Money
lease bring clean and folded blankets to a donations site or you may donate money to purchase blanket.
Thank you for your help and cooperation
For more information: firstname.lastname@example.org