The Syrian-Americans

Apr 10

“Sometimes I sit by myself and I blame myself for leaving Syria. I used to own my own business. Now I’m working as an employee in a dairy shop. I have nothing here. When I feel nostalgic about Syria, I remember the smell of jasmine in my back garden. I remember my four best friends. We were always laughing and joking together. On Friday mornings during the summer, we’d wake up early to drive to the lake and swim. In the winter we’d play cards and smoke the water pipe. But I have to remind myself that Syria isn’t there anymore. Our old town doesn’t even have any food. A bag of salt costs $50 now. And all my friends are gone. One of them is in Egypt, one is in Turkey, one is in Lebanon, and the other was killed by a sniper.”

“They are too young now, but one day I will tell them about Syria. They are already asking questions. The oldest one overhears us talking on the phone to our family back in Syria. She asks us: ‘If our aunt is hungry, why can’t she just buy bread?’”