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The bright sunlight shines into my room, warmness covered my body. I was sitting on the desk for the whole night, preparing for the assessment today. My name is Kevin Ali, I am an overseas student from Syria; currently, live in Canada Quebec. When I was young, me, my sister and my father were living in a small town called Bosra. I have no mother, I and my sister were orphan, our father found us in a supermarket. My sister was currently studying at the Aleppo University, and my father was living in Aleppo with my sister. I tried to wake myself up to concentrate on the assessment for today, I stand up and make more coffee for myself. I look at all the mess in the kitchen my roommate made and signed. When I was in the high school, I dreamed to leave Bosra and became a college student outside of Syria. Basically, everyone in our school has the same dream, but I am the only one who achieves it. A college in Canada, Quebec called McGill accept me; my family was really happy about it. But there is one issue; the college payment. My father really works hard on getting the college money for me, so I can't fail him. I packed my books and notes, and sip the last bit of the coffee and run out from the apartment. I get to the star bucks that I often go and bought a ham sandwich, then rush to the college. During the rushing, I got attention by a TV on the TV store's display. On the TV, CBC is talking about an attack; I am not surprised on any attack happening around the world after 911. But this attack is happening in Syria, my own country! I started to concentrate on the news, and listen to every word it said. "Good morning! I am Jerry Fox. At Thursday midnight, a conflict just happened in Syria. Based on the report, thousands and a million of demonstrators were on the street giving justice to the boy that was tortured by the Syrian government. They were peaceful and no harm, but just at 4:00 pm (Syrian time) the government started the gunfire at the demonstrators. The official hasn't yet claimed they started the gunfire at the demonstrators, but there Figure 1 is an actual photograph being taken by one of the demonstrator. The attack on the peaceful protester-2010/Friday/4:00 pm I was shocked when I see this. My first reaction would be calling my sister and my father. "Picked up! Picked up! Come on!" I murmured; heart pounding, hand sweating, the intimidated stunned my body. Finally, the phone has been picked up and then‌. I waked up. I was lying on the bed in a trance, dreaming the old memory from one year ago. I stand up and walk toward my working desk. There was a newspaper I got from yesterday. I picked up and read the headline "Al-Midan bombing. At 2011 June, a suicide bombing happened in front of the Al-Midan's police department. Based on the cam video, a man carried the bomb charge into the police department's front door and explode. They were 8 people injured and 1 death." I stopped reading and throw the paper into the trash can. The war is Figure 2 AI-Midan Bombing-2010 going to start. I opened my computer and clicked the email, there was 10 new mails; but there is only 1 that got my attention. It's my father, he joined the rebel in the Aleppo and now he needs my help. I stopped and start to think; my father needs me but I don't want to get into any trouble related between the war of rebels and the government. But my father did so much for me and I can't disappoint him again after I failed the assessment. I click replay and type:" I am on my way, father." Before I send; I paused. I don't know if this is the right things to do But I still clicked send, and there is no more turning back for me.

A penetrating VROOM spread across the whole airport, another flying giant flies toward the sky. It has passed three years after I send the replay email to my father, but I was too hesitated to come to Syria until now. I walk toward the exit of the airport; the echo of the plane engine was still revolved around my ear. I look at the huge "Welcome to Syrian" billboard in front of the airport exit, and a word appears in my mind. "Satirize", Syrian were in a war, this whole country is a mess right now; why would there be people arriving into a war zone. This whole airport has more people leaving, instead of people arriving. I signed, still regret coming to Syria. But there is no more turning back for me. I look around, there is only five taxi that was beside the airport exit. Which proved my theory of people leaving, instead of arriving. I walked toward one of the closest taxies that were beside me and ask if this taxi is available. He didn't answer, but he pointed at the back seat means to hop into the car. I slowly get into the car, looking at the driver; he seemed to be drunk and his car was really messy, magazine and old newspaper everywhere, old toys and even dog poo. I haven't been back to Syria for a long time, I can't even recognize this is my own country's taxi. I decide to turn around and look outside, and outside is even worse. Smoke covering the sky, the street was covered by bullet and bomb whole, the building that has been damaged and I can hear the gunshot from far away. The driver opens the radio and the music appeared. I have to say, the music sounds really bad, but the driver seems to enjoy it. We are listening to the music the whole time until the driver changes the radio to a news radio station; seems like he didn't enjoy rock music. A soft female voice takes my attention; her voice is so attractive, I listen to the boring politic news. Until… "At today, the Aleppo university was bombed by the government. Based on the report, there was an anti-government symbol on the school wall…" I suddenly stunned and mouse wide open. The drive seems to realize something and speak to me "Do u have family or friend in there?" I look at him and reply "No." How could I even say that, because I am just too afraid to face the truth of my sister was involved in this bombing, or she was involved in the painting, I don't know. My brain is so messy right now, everything impacts me, I just can't take it. The driver closed the radio and left me sitting there like a wood. He murmured "Rest in peace", but I didn't respond him. Figure 3 Aleppo university bombing-2013/1/15 There is only silence until I get back home. I give him the money and rush into the house; they were five people with guns are in the front yard, seems to be the rebel but I didn’t pay attention to them. Before they tried to stop me, I rush into the house and see my father was discussing with few other rebel leaders. My father turns around and opens his arm trying to give me a hug "Son, you are finally here…" He speaks to me with a smile. "Where is she?" I yelled. The smile fades away from my father's face "You heard the news… Don't you?" He replied me quietly. My mouse is wide opened, and I look around the room, seeing everyone putting their head down and praying. "NO! NO! NO! NO! THIS CAN'T BE TRUE! THREE YEARS! THREE YEARS! I FINALLY GET HERE AND THIS IS THE ONLY THING YOU GOT FOR ME? MY SISTER HAS DIED AND MY COUNTRY IS ON THE EDGE OF DOOM!" I yelled at him. My face turned red and tear slide down from my eye. My father didn't reply anything, he just stands there. I run into my room and shut the door. I cry really hard, can't even cover myself with pain. Until my father knocks my door, it was dawn already; he speaks to me in a soft voice, "Ali, we are going to attack the military camp government set nearby. If I don't get back until 11:30, go find your uncle. In case you forget where your uncle is, I leave a note on the table and dinner." I didn't reply him; my father sighed and call out "Let's go". With sounds of the cars driving away, there is only sadness and silence covered me after all.

"Ali, we are going to attack the military camp government set nearby. If I don't get back until 11:30, go find your uncle. In case you forget where your uncle is, I leave a note on the table and dinner." That soft voice sometimes still revolves around my ear, but I will never be heard this voice again. It has passed one year after my father's death, can't believe I blame him on my sister's death before. I am sitting at the restaurant table with my uncle drinking wine. "You don't want to get back to Canada?" My uncle asked me, he seemed to be drunk, but at least his mind was still clear. "No, there have nothing left for me in Canada, neither this world" I answered. "Come on, you still have me!" He answered and drink the whole bottle of wine. He is right, at least I got my uncle. He probably is the only family I have right now, not including my real parent. I hate them, I hate my real parent; I hate everything about them, even though I don't know anything about them. "Uncle…" He looks at me and replied "Yeah?" I look at him seriously "Do you know who is my real parent?" He silenced. "Why are you asking me?" he seems to be awaked and his laughter stopped. "Just curious. Do you know anything about my parent?" He replies "No, why would I know your parent, your father doesn’t even know who your parent is. How would I know." He starts to drink again and I know he is right, I will never know who are my actual parent is. "I have to take a walk, I will see you back at the house." He didn't reply me, but I know he heard it. I walked out of the restaurant and hearing the gunshot from the north. I walk toward the north, instead of another way. During the walk, there were few ambulances passes by, and going toward to the gunshot area. I am not surprised, not at all. I get used to all of this already, airstrike, death, gunfire. I don't care, this country is dead already and no one will save it. I keep walking toward the gunshot area until I see rebel and government trooper were fighting. I hide in an alley and watching the battle, the rebel is losing their battle and I felt a little sorry for them. I keep watching the battle until it ends; the rebel loses and the government army win. Can't believe they didn't even notice me this whole time. I see few rebels were still alive, so I go and try to save them. But before I reach there, a few groups of people with white helmet rush toward the rebel and call out "There are people alive here!" With the call, more people with white helmet appeared, the good communication, well collaboration and very skilled technique quickly saved the injured rebel from danger. I see them carry away the injured rebel away and leave the area. I look around seeing no military around then sneak away. During the trip to home, I am still wondering who are these white helmet people and why are they saving the rebel? With more deep thinking on this question the more perplex it is. I forced myself to forget all of the things that happened today, including the part that my uncle using a bottle smash a customer’s head. I lay on the bed, close my eyes and wait until tomorrow. I wake up in the dawn and take a walk outside still frustrating about the people with the white helmet until I see a newspaper with people wearing white helmet saving children from the airstrike. The title of newspaper is "The Syrian hero! White Helmets!" White Helmets? This is interesting. "Hi! Do u know anything about those White Helmets?" I asked the seller. "Why don't you just check the link below the newspaper." He responds; I tried to crab a newspaper from the display, but he stopped me. "No buying, no reading" He speak to me in a poor English technique and grabbing the newspaper away from me. Figure 4 White Helmets on duty-2015/Aug I sighed and payed him the money. I grab the newspaper and left, reading the calling link of White Helmets at the end of the newspaper. I called the number and waiting for the call to respond until a man's voice appear "Hello! This is the White Helmets. What could we help you?" I stopped, but I didn't hesitate. My country is on the edge of doom and no one is trying to save it; this revolution is already useless after the airstrike on the citizens. Bashar al Assad won’t stop fighting on this revolution, no matter how hard the rebels are trying to defeat the government, he will always defeat the rebel and keep going until the rebel give up. If there isn’t people want to save this country, I will do it for them, I will save this country from the doom and this time no more hesitated. "I only have one request." He asks me with a pleasure tone. "What is it? Sir." I look at the newspaper "I want to be a White Helmet." This time, I will be a hero.

Syrian revolution  
Syrian revolution