Two mothers’ tales of trials and tears

Tuesday, March 26, 2013

“There was a sound like a plane, then the house shook,” remembers Muna, a mother of five, as she recalls the day their lives changed forever.  Once she realised their village was under attack, she rushed her children into the stairwell to get them down from the roof.

Once they were down, one of her children asked where the baby was. It was then that Muna realised she had left her daughter behind. She rushed back to the roof to get her. In the panic, another of her daughters hit her head and was bleeding heavily.

By the time they got outside to the street there were more rockets hitting buildings. Everyone was shouting so loud nobody could hear themselves. The men got busses and helped evacuate around 500 people to a neighbouring village. Three days later, their village was completely reduced to rubble.

Muna and her five children left Syria straight after their home was destroyed nine months ago. Her husband stayed behind. Now they live as refugees in the Jordanian town of Ma’an, with her uncle. There are 11 people in the house. Everyone is reliant on her relative who works as a decorator. “If he works, we all eat,” she says. “If he doesn’t have work, we don’t eat.”

Even though Muna is no longer in Syria, the violent effects of the conflict continue to touch her. Four days ago, her brother was killed. A few months ago, her husband, who stayed in Syria, was hurt. Now he has to do everything with his left hand.

Muna’s story is one of many. Rana, another mother, also fled Syria with her children.

Rana was tidying the bedroom; her children were playing in another room when her house was hit. She says her only thought was her children. She shouted for them and got them downstairs near a metal doorway where they would be protected.

Missiles or bombs were landing in the street outside. It was three long hours before men came to lead them to safety. She and her four sons travelled for four hours to get to the border: the first hour was by car, then they had to walk. For three hours they walked on a stony track in the dark. They fell, over and over again. Sahel, 12, her eldest son, kept vomiting. By the time they reached the border, they were exhausted.

They crossed into Jordan and were transferred to the Za’atari refugee camp where they stayed for a day and a half before Rana’s brother came to fetch them to live with his family in Ma’an, a desert town in southeast Jordan. He had been working there since before the beginning of the civil war in Syria. His wife and children had already fled the fighting to join him.

Now Rana, who has just arrived, is trying to calm her children. She is particularly worried about Sahel, 12. He has a heart problem and is scared by loud noises. His younger brother, Thaer, 8, has nightmares. He describes a particular dream where he sees men in police uniforms trying to kidnap his baby brother. In his dream, Sahel saves the baby but as he runs to escape Thaer is hit in the back by a bullet and falls to the ground. He says he woke up and called for his mother. Rana confirms that he woke terrified and she had to calm him, telling him it was only a dream.

The boys say they wake often in the night, sometimes three or four times a night. Their mother says they miss their father and ask for him constantly. Rana tries to reassure her boys their dad will come tomorrow, but it seems unlikely.

When one boy cries, he is often followed by the others. They say they feel frightened that bombs will fall in Ma’an and that they are scared because their father is not with them. When they think of him, they cry again..

Five-year-old, Feras, and his baby brother, Sayeh, don’t say anything. Feras can’t seem to settle. His mother calls his quietly and then with a louder voice. He walks over and sits by his brother, Thaer, as he recalls his nightmare, then he wanders off again.

It is too soon for Sahel, 12, and Thaer, 8, to enrol in school in Jordan with their three cousins. When they do, they will have a lot of catching up to do. Back in Syria they have not been to school for two years because of the fear that one of them would be kidnapped after Sahel heard this happened to another boy.

The escape into exile trades danger for uncertainty for refugee families, as everything is left behind: homes, possessions and for many children—like these boys—parents. The boys hold their mother tight. They all seem to be in shock, getting through each day, relying on their mother’s strength—a mother so concerned for her children’s safety she momentarily forgets her baby while comforting her children as they cry again, and again for their father.