Revolutionary Voices Journal: Syrian Revolution
Sitting at my dining table I was waiting for my son to get home, my name is Sandra Syasneh, mother of Mouawiya Syasneh. Last night, many phone calls came to me. Having to ignore all of them was a pain, but after 20 mins they stopped. I finally answered the call; it was the police. The police called to report that my son was under arrest for vandalism and disrespecting Bashar al Assad, the president of Syria. I hate Assad, and he is the worst leader that Syria ever had. When I asked what he did, the policemen told me to come to the police officers and they will tell you. I immediately grabbed all my stuff (purse, keys, phone) and I drove over to the police officer. At the office, I saw lots of people. Some cops, some prisoners, and some cooks but no Mouawiya. After a while of sitting down, a police officer came to talk to me about Mouawiya and where he is. He took me over to Mouawiya's cell and let me speak and hug him. I felt lightheaded like every mother would be and proceeded to hug him. This is a house that was destroyed when I got home because in Syrian prison they treat you by the This Assadscared Regimeme using a bomb
horribly and destroy your trust for anyone and anything. At home I mostly don't do anything, I love to talk to many of my neighbors, this gives me more of a community and lets me make friends. Sometimes my friends let me go to their house, or they can go to mine. Gossip around my neighborhood started flooding about my son and what he did. After that, a picture of the spray-paint Mouawiya was on my phone. Once I saw what he wrote, I knew he was in trouble. That night, I had nightmares and thoughts in my head about Mouawiya. "This could spark something big," I said. In this jail room many different protesters and groups we're being born.
Destruction in Dura
Out shopping the whole day, I came home tired and distressed. Once I came home, I saw Mouawiya on the couch talking to some man I don't know. It's been eight months since Mouawiya got to lock up in prison. Huge riots around the country started happening because of the picture that was leaked and Assad making the decision to shoot at them. At that time, Mouawiya was in a dark place. He got depressed after seeing dead bodies on the television. The man sitting with Mouawiya introduced himself to me. He was a captain of a Free Syrian Army, once I heard that I knew Mouawiya was going to join, after a long conversation. He told us that he would have to do some things that will protect and train him in guns, medicine, and stealth. He will have to shoot and kill anyone in the Assad Regime, for that will protect the Huge bombs being dropped in Dura and all Free Syrian Army and the citizen in the streets. While it was a hard decision over the news in my eyes, I could see that Mouawiya wanted to go and wanted to help end the revolution. Soon after joining the Free Syrian Army (FSA) he had an accident that left him in a hospital for over two months. In September, he ended up shooting his foot almost clean off. On the television, my face trembled in fear. After everything I've done, he could I just die in a freak accident. I was watching the Television closely to hear the chemical weapons being dropped on to neighboring cities, this and the screaming The White Helmets, strong and brave, carry the lifeless victim out of the coming from the people scared me. People called White Helmets and started bombsite. dropping down from the sky to help and greet Syrians in need. The newsmen began to speak about small bombings in Dura (where I live) and to have an escape places to hide and have protection underground.
The War Goes On
I'm in the same house doing the same thing all the time. Being difficult to pay and get the things that I need, I would come home and always watch the news or a random show. I was watching TV in my room after working at the school; headlines say "CHEMICAL WEAPONS HAVE BEEN BANNED." I knew it couldn't be true; there will still be little bombings left and right. I haven't seen Mouawiya in weeks, and I'm starting to worry about his life. Mouawiya went into this war thinking "you have a second life" like in the games he plays. But once he got hurt, he knew that his life means nothing to the regime and Bashar al-Assad. At any minute or second Mouawiya could be shot and killed, anyone could be shot and killed. But Assad would have made a change. In the news, supply drops and medicine was being dropped from the sky. This and many others were from some first The citizens having to wear gas masks world countries. because of the chemical weapons Many countries like America and even Russia started to send airdrops because of the horrid acts of Assad and the hundreds of thousands dead from his hand. Walking around the neighborhood, I could see all the sighs selling a part in there "safe basement". While not having one myself I could tell that they are not worth it. You would have to know when the bomb drops and where it is. Many barrel bombs, a wooden barrel filled with dynamite dropped from a plane, come down above schools and under hotels. While being very unsafe, people still walk around in night markets and little shops at night. To Assad, this and hospitals are the best place to bomb. Having to bomb house can use more bombs and kill fewer people, the newsmen says. Getting to deal with the constant yelling and destruction was a trick most people would have to stay up all night for. The noiselike being in a machine at all times. When thinking to myself "Will this revolution end with us on top?" I said. I think we will The Proxy war, different countries getting involved in progress and take Syria, after all the hard ships and the the war destruction. Soon enough people will come and help. If we do take over Syria, I can finally get a job and let my son go to university (his dream). One day, a knock on my door woke me up. When I open the door, a mailman greeted me with a letter. When opening I was thinking about who I could be. Seeing the name at the bottom of the letter made me feel better as I was reading it, it was Mouawiya (my son), and he wanted to see how I was doing. "Hey, ma! I am feeling better, and I wanted to know how you were doing." He said. "I am going to be away for a very long time, and I want you to know that I will be safe." He said. The more I read the letter, the more I recognized the hand writing. The letter wasn't from Mouawiya. "It's a fake," I said.