Syria: ‘My family called from Idlib. They wanted my help to flee the fighting’
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Version 0 of 1. I got the call last Friday. My family in Idlib city wanted me to help them to escape the fighting and air strikes. It was two days before I was able to get there, and in that time I couldn’t speak to them as all the phone lines were down. I didn’t sleep those two nights. By last Sunday morning I was in a car with two of my friends; we were going back to our home city, which we had not seen for more than two years – all three of us were searching for the families we had lost contact with. Related: Blow for Assad as Islamist militants take strategically important city of Idlib We travelled in silence, lost in thought about how the city would look. We held our breath as we crossed deserted checkpoints. We were three grown men in a car with eyes full of tears shouting: “We are here, inside our city. We are finally here.” All around were destroyed tanks and cars, and gaping holes in the sides of the buildings. We drove past the main petrol station that had been destroyed by an airstrike, before reaching a hospital in the city centre that was still on fire after having just been hit in an airstrike. It is here that those caught up in the latest fighting are brought – both the injured and the dead. Finally, I arrived at my at my family home. I knocked on the door, but there was no response. I sat on the stairs feeling hopeless and wondering: “Where are they? Are they safe?” I struggled down the stairs. As I reached the street, I saw three dead bodies on the pavement in front of my house. Driving around the city trying to find my family, I stopped at a number of schools that now stand abandoned. I met three teachers I knew who were worried about their relatives and their students. With a heavy sigh, a teacher asked me: “Do you know Mohammed? His child is a student in my class. Their house was destroyed by an airstrike last night; I don’t know what happen[ed] to them. I hope they are alive.” As we stood watching a group of children in the street, another of the teachers said: “Poor children, they have lost everything. They’ve lost their happiness, their education, and their dreams! Who is going to help them?” I drove around, and saw the fear on the faces of people as they stared up at the sky. A few minutes later, I heard a huge explosion close by. Driving away, I saw a family of three adults and five children desperately squeezing into a small car. The children were crying and a woman was saying to the youngest ones: “My dears don’t cry, the aircraft is far from us.” Once they were in the car they quickly left – just one of the many families fleeing the city. Trucks and cars filled with people are leaving the city in droves. Many are moving in with extended family members, into collective shelters, or into makeshift camps on farmland. Basic services in the city have stopped, although a few shops are open and some organisations are providing emergency food and shelter. One of my friends is a doctor. He said that because there is no electricity he is worried about the vaccines stored in fridges. Another friend’s sisters told me that the government building where all the students’ records are stored is in an area where there is frequent shelling and air strikes. If these are lost, what will happen to those children’s futures? Since the fighting in Idlib began more than two weeks ago, children have stopped attending school and many teachers have fled. My sister is among those teachers. She is worried about how and when she will be able to start work again. Before this latest fighting, attendance at the schools in the city was very high – at odds with much of the rest of the country. Parents tell me that education is one of their major concerns for their children. But with teachers and families dispersing, and schools filling up with displaced families, where will these children go and who will teach them? Finally, having driven through my deserted city for hours, I went back to my house hoping my family might be there. They weren’t, but a neighbour told me they had managed to leave the city and are living in a small town just two hours away. I have not yet seen them but at least I know that, for now, they are safe. • Mohammed (surname withheld) is an aid worker for Save the Children in Syria |