Dear Syria: From One Refugee to Another
What can one say by way of advice to the relatively new refugees of Syria, considering that we – Palestinians – are yet to liberate ourselves from a status that we never sought? There can be none, only reminders, and few warnings:
First, may your displacement end soon. May you never live the waja’ of displacement to the extent that you embrace it as a part of your identity, and pass it on from one generation to another. May it be the kind of fleeting pain; a passing nightmare, but never the pervasive everyday reality.
Second, but you must be prepared for the worst. My grandparents left the new blankets in their village before they fled to the refugee camps. They feared they would be ruined by the dust of the journey. Alas, the camps became home, and the blankets were confiscated as the rest of Palestine. Please remain hopeful, but realistic.
Third, don’t believe the ‘international community’ when they make promises. They never deliver, and when they do, it is always for ulterior motives that might bring you more harm than good. In fact, the term itself is illusory, mostly in reference to western countries, which have wronged you as they have us.
Fourth, don’t trust Arab regimes. They lie. They feel not your pain. They hear not your pleas, nor do they care. They have invested so much to destroy your countries, and so little to redeem their sins. They speak of aid that rarely arrives, political initiatives that constitute mostly of press releases. But they will take every opportunity to remind you of their virtues. In fact, your victimhood becomes a platform for their greatness. They thrive at your expense, thus will invest to further your misery.
Fifth, preserve your dignity. I know, it is never easy to maintain your pride when you sleep in a barren street covered in cardboard boxes. A mother would do whatever she can to help her children pass into safety. No matter, you must never allow the wolves awaiting you at every border to exploit your desperation. You must never allow the Emir, or his children or some rich businessman or a sympathetic celebrity to use you as a photo-op. Do not ever kneel. Don’t ever kiss a hand. Don’t give anyone the satisfaction to exploit your pain.
Sixth, remain united. Even if refugees, there is strength in unity. Don’t allow political squabbles to distract you from the greater battle at hand: surviving until the day you return home, and you will.
Seven, love Syria. Yours is an unparalleled civilization. Your history is rife with triumphs that were ultimately of your own making. Even if you must leave to distant lands, keep Syria in your hearts. This too shall pass, and Syria shall redeem its glory, once the brutes vanquish. Only the spirit of the people shall survive. It is not wishful thinking. It is history.
Dear Syrian refugee, it has been 66 years and counting since my people’s dispossession began. We are yet to return, but that is a battle for my children, and their children to fight. I hope yours ends soon. Until then, please remember the tent is just a tent, and the gusts of cold wind is but a passing storm.
And until you return home, to Syria, don’t let the refugee become who you are.
— Ramzy Baroud – Excerpts from upcoming article: Dear Syria: From One Refugee to Another.
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