I’m writing this far away from my country, in İstanbul.Actually my life began peaceful and in a way that could be called ordinary. I was born in one of Şam’s (Damascus’) small villages on a beautiful spring morning in 1996. As my mother Fatma said, that day the sky was azure and very bright, that’s why they gave me the name Abher(Narcissus or daffodil). My poor mother… My mother and my father had no child for many years even they wanted it so much.And finally they brought me to the world.My father Basir gave two of the our oblations to the folk.
My father was a composedly farmer.My poor father… Also we had roughly thirty or forty sheeps that we fed in the barn. My mother usually took care of them. And she was doing the houseworks.
I started to the middle school in our village. My teacher introduced me the instrument –guitar- that can help me when my life gets harder. It looked so big in my hands when I started to play it at the first time.But it got more smaller in time. Because I was learning more melodies by and by. My guitar became my toy, my friend and my confidant in my difficult days.
After that I was going to the Şam(Damascus) for highschool. I got used to my school and my friends. Sometimes I was walking in the Şam’s(Damascus) streets and bazaars with my friends. I liked the city at the first time. That was a cheepy and colorful place with everything. Even we gave a different name to Şam(Damascus).We call it ‘’El Yahya’’.It means ‘sweet smelling’. The beautiful smell got bad in time. Tension was rising in the streets. There were people who says political slogans. I was a new highschool student.I didn’t know anything about politics. But obviously something was wrong. People were angry with the government as I understand.
Not after too long, the accumulated rage brings the explosions. The clashes started between the govenment and opposition groups. And it got a more bigger conflict with the inclusion of other groups. I couldn’t imagine the situation could be like this. The most terrifying thing that I have ever saw was the neighborhood fight. And then I was bearing witness to civil war. The people who host their neighbor were killing each other. I didn’t understand the reason of the war.
I stil can’t forget that day. The doomsday of a man is his own death but I saw it when I’m alive and it was like never going to end. We woke up with the guns sounds. My father came to my mind, he lives the house early. And then my uncle broke the door strongly and gave me the bitter news. My father died in middle of the war. My lovely father returned to dust. Finally the war took him from us.
My mother and I tried to make thing right again on this hard road, for cling to life despite everything…
Like I said the doomsday has never ended. Every day the village was given lossses. People had started to immigrate as they hope that they can get rid of this. My mother and I decided to immigrate too. My uncle has allowed us to get out of there. The travel that we had has been in the wheat bags ended in the Turkey boundary. The door of the hope was Gaziantep. They accept us to refugee camps as a guest. We had been hosted very well at the first time. But then the problems began to emerge because of the immigration wave. So many people were coming. We went to İstanbul hoping to live more humanely. I’ve heard about this big and magical city from my uncle who comes there for trade. He told me that here is the opportunities city. But İstanbul didn’t give me a chance. The most important thing is we didn’t know the language. We had a accommodation problem. We stayed at the bus station at first days. The Syrians who went there before told us that government can give us a place to stay. But the government was able to handle only one week. Because thousands of immigrants were coming. We had to look for a job and a house during this time. The Syrian who we just met coordinated a job to us in a confection. They gave us half of the fees paid to others( I mean Turkish workers). We accepted this money just because we are in a bad situationand had no other chance. My mother knows how to sew more or less. And I was a porter in there. It was hard to endure but we had to.
It was really difficult to find a house in İstanbul. We spend our time for looking for a house after the work. Most of the people didn’t want to give us their houses just because we are Syrians. When we knocked their door, they had a expression like ‘Is it you again’ in their faces. It was the same in other places. They were looking at us like we are taking something free when we were shopping. They made a wry face. We learned some words from our Turkish neighbors. So we could understand some of the insults, and we could feel some of them.
Before our last day in municipality, we agreed with someone to rent the house. And he gave us a meal. Finally there was a person who helped us. That moment l felt that there can be good people despite everything made my heart bleed. My mother and I had a new home after all.
After we provide the scheme at the home, my mother told me that I should go to school and find a part-time job. I applied to government and they steer me to a hinghschool. Finally I started to school but I had a big problem: Language. I didn’t know Turkish so I didn’t understand any subject. I was going to work after school so I couldn’t find the time to learn Turkish. And I maimed my waist at work. My body couldn’t resist to work in this job anymore.
A Sunday, my friends at the work, took me to the İstiklal Avenue which is kind of the center of the city. The things that I saw there captivated me. People were playing guitar, dancing, and singing. This memory reminded me my life in Şam(Damascus).It made me feel like I found a treasure that I had lost. I found my confident guitar again in İstiklal Street. Some people started to watch a group of Syrian that playing music during that time. We went to there to watch them. I was charmed by the people who plays guitar and suddenly I found myself between them. And they gave me the guitar. And that moment I took the guitar and hugged it tightly. I started to play my childhood’s matchless melodies. When I was playing, the happiness in the people’s faces who were listening to me took me to the heaven. Those people enjoyed the Arabic music and they were not making a wry face.
We are all got together the universality of music. We were having fun without interrogate that who we are. I prayed I wish we could live in a world like this. I wish we could share the same sky without what religion we are and what language we talk. I wish we could our disgruntled mood to reconcile with music. Aren’t the sky and the sun all ours?
After that day I started to cling to life with guitar and music. Now I’m playing guitar too in İstiklal Street. I don’t communicate by any license with the people comes around the world and I live with. I communicate with them by music. Also I met the other street musician. I found a job in a cafe with their mediation. And the most important thing is my mother is happy. I can allow time to learn Turkish in the day. And I learn Turkish songs with my Turkish friends. They also learn Arabic songs from me. I have a social environment now. People are interested about my music, not about my identity. I’m happy for being accepted like this. But still the ignorance on the reasons which make millions of people to immigrate and what kind of difficulties do the immigrants experience leaves my happiness in the shade. I hope everyone will recognize no one wants to leave their own countries and lives without reason. People destroy each other as much as they don’t want to live together. And people make their lives livable as much as they want to live together. Hoping a world that hearts confluence in the same sky and the country has become the purpose of peace…
Who is knocking at my door? Our Erasmus+ project 