Latakia, Syria :

                Baba decided to sell our house, property, jeep and everything we have. Amma sold all her marriage jewelries which worth five thousand dollars 20 years back at a very meagre price of 100 dollars. All  this was done to get money for leaving the country. Still, that didn't bring us enough money for everyone of us. All we could afford was 2 tickets.

                 Baba and Mama forced me and my six year old sister to leave in those boats. Leaving them was very very hard, we all cried for the inevitable misery. When my sister didn't stop crying, baba tried to console her by promising that they would catch the next boat. I knew that it's never going to happen. And, that made me to cry more.

                 The city once thronged with life seemed to become dead. The lively fruit markets, the children playing football in the grounds, those petty street fights, all were gone. Even during the day, the towns were inanimate, except the dust clouds accompanying it. All those sandstone buildings which appeared elegant under the tangerine Sun are now decorated with bullet marks, a few devastated by bombs. The life in Aleppo moved to a heavy slumber. The once peaceful and city of glory became a symbol of brutality and savage.

                 Few of my friends already left the country, while a few left this world. We've decided not to stay in this country, not after my neighbour's house got bombed, killing the entire family.

                We decided to leave. The plan was simple. We've to reach the boat by 2:30 A.M. The night was silent. None spoke. But, under our silence, our tears spoke, and under those, our hearts prayed to Allah very loudly, asking him to shower His grace upon us.

               When the clock struck one, we hugged each other tightly and started for the quest of leaving for living.

               Baba led the path, he would give us a gesture if the area was clear and we'll follow him. After one and half hour of hiding and lurking under the shadows, we reached the shore.

               Upon the sand, there was a boat, the size of that not crossing the size of the rowers of the lake, with a few drag marks on the deep ocean blacked wood.

                There were kids, parents, oldies among the passengers, we all shared the same emotions. We cried again and after bidding farewell to amma and baba, I sat at the corner with my sister beside me. Leaving our own country forever hurts, but leaving our dearest ones to death is the ultimate pain one can bear.

                The boats started. There was no hint of happiness, not even of hope in anyone of our faces. Perhaps, we've suffered enough. Perhaps, that suffering has robbed all our feelings, except the sorrows.

               A child sitting in front of us asked his mother if he could meet his missing friends in the new place, if he could play football along with them. She didn't speak anything, hugged him tight. The old man near her told the child that his friends are waiting in the new land for him to play along with them.

              After few hours, the sun rose glittering above the horizon. Every night which pass reminds us that we've survived that day. Of many men dead. Of many children who lost their parents. Of many parents who lost their children. Of people who lost their homes. Of people who lost their houses. Of another city, which got destroyed.

              The days seemed to be like years. There were no supplies of food as that would decrease the carrying capacity of the boat. There was a very limited supply of water which was not even sufficient to quench the thirst of the passengers. Hunger cries became the common music along with the ocean waves.

                After a few sunrises (I don't remember how many), people started to disappear, the reason was obvious. They were dead and their bodies are thrown away into the sea. The child in front of us started to cry as the old man who was nice to him was no where to be seen.

                Finally, after the never-ending journey, one day, we saw the land. We intensely waited for the island to come. As we neared the land, we could see the people and rescue teams waiting for any boats. There was a loud cheer from all of us. Our eyes got covered with the tears of joy and we thanked Allah many times. I felt so happy for the first time since many years.

                Two months have passed and there was no sign of baba or amma. Here and then, we hear about the boats which got devastated to the wrath of the ocean, about the people who made to the land.

                Many times, I wonder what's the point of our survival. Who knows, we might collectively change the future of Syria again, we might eliminate the darkness and bring light again.