It was one year ago that Syrians rose in a joint nationwide call for freedom and democracy, anti government demonstrations surged across the country only for Assad, the countries president to answer those calls with what he termed as “Crushing them with an iron fist”. Anyone who was suspected of taking part was subject to arrest, interrogation, torture or even just being shot in the street. Men, Women, Children even the disabled, all were given a fair percentage in the endless list of victims. Syria: once described, as the “Kingdom of Silence” due to its inability to join the Arab Spring early on had now become one of the bloodiest uprisings of our time. The fear barrier was finally broken.
I remember the first day very clearly it was named “The Syrian Day of Rage”. Just as I left the house headed to Omayyad mosque where a call for a mass demonstration had been announced on facebook I remember a quick shiver racing down my spine, I had seen what the Syrian regime was capable of, and knew but ignored the fact that with my taking part, I could lose everything or anyone I ever loved, I was terrified. I managed to park a few hundred meters away from the mosque. Just before getting out of the car I took out my phone and watched a video of my wife and newly born daughter, I was now hesitating but it was time to go.
As I arrived I made my way through the courtyard to the inner side of the mosque where a few hundred people were attending the Friday speech before prayers. As hundreds more poured in I sat down and began to listen to what the Sheikh was saying. “The west is trying to fiddle with our country, they are the ones telling you to rise” it was only expected that the government would send this man to try to diminish any possibility of a demonstration going through. Prayers took about 10 minutes and were finally over. Everyone was now staring around as an old man walked across the carpet and climbed up onto the steps by the sheikh, he stared at everyone in silence, a group of people stood up and shuffled towards him and just then with a loud voice he said “My sons are prisoners and I want freedom” at that very moment a extraordinary roar of commotion and chants broke out I stood up quickly and ran towards the crowd and finally joined the chants “Freedom” I screamed with all my will. The atmosphere was intense, an unexplainable rush of adrenaline pushed me to grip my fist and chant even louder. We funneled towards the main door and Just as we made it a stampede of secret police with batons and Tasers came smashing in. hundreds of protesters beaten and dragged across the courtyard as more and more security forces came storming in. with streaks of blood left across the courtyard floor the government had managed to disperse the protest. But it had begun; we had made our voices known.
As one protester from that day put it: “the moment I chanted freedom was the moment I’d found my dignity”
Protest after protest the Syrian regime continued its violent crackdown on civilians and now, one year on the revolution continues, the government unable to silence the demands, have resulted to polluting the peaceful uprising with propaganda “presence of armed terrorists who’s sole mission is to demolish and cause instability in Syria, the terrorists are killing the civilians” they say. “We are protecting them”. A joke really, but one that is being taken very seriously by the international community, The Assad regime with its allies have managed to prevent any sort of solution to the crisis or protection of Syrian nationals. Assad has sent a very clear message to his people: either I rule Syria or I burn Syria, you choose.
At this moment cities across the country are subject to bombardment by regime forces. Very recently the Baba Amr area of Homs was under siege for 27 days, all electricity water and communications were shut down while army tanks surrounding the area and shelled residential homes, the government claiming that they were taking out the terrorist elements only really crushing the pro-democracy movement. The only protection or resistance the people of Baba Amr had were the defected soldiers who refused to kill civilians and joined the call for democracy, 10,000+ people have been killed by the Syrian government, some shot dead in demonstrations by snipers, some under the rubble of their shelled homes, some under torture, this in addition to over 100,000 detainees 40,000 of which have not been released and thousands missing. The United Nations Security Council (UNSC) and The International Criminal Court (ICC) have not even condemned Bashar Al Assad to this day.
With this entire happening and no hope of any outside help the only thing that keeps me optimistic are the Syrian people themselves and their determination. When they are asked if this is ever going to stop? The answer always remains; “not until we are free”.
The situation in Syria has as some may put it “gone on for too long” while demonstrations continue to surge across the country Assad’s regime has shown no mercy in its on going crackdown on the popular uprising. Of course let’s not forget that this all began with peaceful demonstrations, which simply called for reform but were quickly met with excessive brutality. From protesters being shot down in the street, to mass arrest campaigns where those detained would be subject to torture and humiliation, a clear message that silencing the demands was more the road the “ruling elite” had decided to go down. The demands then changed, Syrian citizens who took to the streets were now not only calling for an end to Bashar Al Assad’s stand in power, but the wide variety of messages that were chanted and sometimes sang in these protests, made it very clear that the demonstrators sought a total end to the Ba’ath parties rule in all its departments. This didn’t keep the regime from continuing its rampage on its own people but instead elevated the situation to what we see today, which is tens of thousands of detainees who we can not say are fortunate to those 4000+ that have been killed, because as many protesters have conveyed “we would rather die than get caught”. The army was soon deployed into residential areas throughout Syria and went on to play a big role in the crackdown, accompanied by security forces and secret police placing up checkpoints and patrols, even army tanks in any area that witnessed any sort of criticism whatsoever, Syria soon started to look more like a prison.
While all this went on Syrian State TV and privately owned Duniyah TV relayed the government’s claim of new laws that contributed to “the reform program” that Bashar al Assad himself was supposedly determined to implement. The Media War began: Assad was not only a reformer answering the peoples calls for democracy, but also took on the largest group of saboteurs ever witnessed by mankind, 64,400 terrorists to be exact. Indirectly claiming that anyone who took part in these demonstrations or any anti Assad practice was a smack out terrorist. Footage after footage after footage of unarmed demonstrators shot in the street did not slow this down in anyway, but on the contrary: the more we learned of peaceful uprising on the protesters part, the more the regime emphasized on this as being a conspiracy led by western governments who invested in (Syrian) armed gangs and terrorist groups inside the country. The idea was argued daily, Syrians disputing on whether these groups actually existed, some arguing: “how would the government lie about something like this, is that possible, would they get away with it” and on the other side an argument that reflected confidence saying “anything this regime says is a lie”
Now the situation is rapidly peaking, with tens of civilians killed everyday and Arab and Western countries failing to put a stop to the violence Syrians are becoming more hopeless to the idea of protection from a external source. Speaking to a resident from Homs I was told: “we are being attacked with tanks and machine guns, thousands of soldiers roam our streets opening fire on anyone who even whispers, our children are targets and our women abducted. They are provoking us” he said he went on stressing, “If we are considered traitors to call for international intervention are we suppose to sit and watch Assad kill us one by one? No, We will retaliate, we will not wait for them to come to us as our women and children are here with us No, we will go to them” he said with hesitation in his voice. Munir made it clear to me that he supported peaceful transition but saw no hope, he said that he had now decided to join the FSA (Free Syrian Army) even though he is no soldier he see’s it as the right thing to do given the failure of international and Arab efforts to protect the Syrian people.
Another man from Homs who lost a relative in a massacre that took place in the Zahra area Tuesday of Deir Belbeh, who also claims arming himself for protection said “we did not want this, we have been peaceful and we have died doing so, the choices we have been given were given to us by Assad and his mafia, we have two choices” he said “either we depend on NATO because the Arab Nations will not do anything or we fight for ourselves” The fact that he had chosen to arm himself gave me the clear assumption that he refused any intervention from the west but left me to wonder: taking part in a civilian resistance would ultimately give those disputing the regime’s honesty on “Armed groups & Terrorists” some strong ground, I couldn’t help but admire the fact that these people were willing to give Assad and his regime a chance to say “see I told you there were armed groups” for what they considered their dignity, and not allowing a western interference in Syria.
It had been one month and one week since the Syrian revolution began and prospects were as high as ever. Demonstrations had been called all over the country, and a massive demonstration had just been dispersed in the Midan district in central Damascus, where thousands of protesters could not defy the ferocious attack by security forces. What we thought would be “The March,” had come to an end when we realized that the government was willing to do anything and at any cost to prevent it.
This is a video of the demonstration in Midan, which was quickly dispersed by security forces using teargas and batons to beat up the protesters.
Leaving the area devastated by the outcome, I checked my Twitter account and was amazed to read that tens of thousands were at that moment starting marches from a number of Damascene suburbs towards Al-Abasiyeen square. There were protesters from Duma, Harasta, Arbeen, Saqba and many other suburbs of the capital, and they had come together making their way to the square for a sit-in. A friend and I quickly rushed to the car, which was parked about 2 km away from where we were. Speeding through empty streets of Damascus, we soon made it to an area named Zablatani which is about 1 km before Al-Abasiyeen sqaure. We were stopped and searched at a checkpoint in an unusual location, and we noticed that hundreds of armed men in plain clothes accompanied by uniformed security forces had surrounded the area. Just as the serious-looking man searching me returned our ID’s, we decided to stop here and see what all the commotion was about, instead of continuing to our initial destination. It took us a while to find a place to park the car, as even on Fridays the area remained busy, because of the proximity of the Qasa’a shopping district, a mainly Christian-populated area. Hiding my phone, because I had already filmed the protest in Midan, we approached the commotion.
Then I heard it: the roaring sound of protesters from a far distance ahead. It seemed as if the massive crowd had found too many obstacles in their original route and diverted towards the location where we were now standing. Suddenly the atmosphere became very tense, the numbers of security forces multiplied and scattered around the entrance of Al-Thawra building, a 25-floor government construction that stood closest to where the protesters seemed to be marching. Hundreds of residents of the area stood around us, and we could now see the large crowd that was headed towards us. I remember at this very moment thinking that the security forces were NOT going to fire at them in broad daylight in central Damascus. So this was it, this was our moment, I thought, and as soon as they arrive we would join them and continue the march into central Damascus. But this was not what Damascus was about to witness. “One Hand, One Hand,” their voices echoed as they came closer, then one of the members of the security forces at the foot of the building screamed upwards “GET THEM!” Suddenly, we saw dozens of armed men on the rooftop of the building with no hesitation open fire directly at the protesters. The forces on the ground then came out facing the protesters and followed through with random firing. The huge crowd dropped to the floor.
This video footage filmed by a protester who was in the large crowd marching towards central Damascus.
I could not believe what I was witnessing. It was inhumane. The protesters were screaming, but I could not make out what was said. Amazingly, the march continued, but now they were running towards us. At that moment, 3 vehicles pulled up in front of us with snipers aiming and shooting directly at the crowd. The men on the rooftop could not be seen anymore. Security forces then turned around to attack a group of passersby standing near us who were filming the incident; taking their mobiles, they beat them brutally and dragged them onto public green buses. We were then forced back into the Qasa’a main street, as the assault intensified. Some protesters had managed to make it out into the main street where we were just standing and were hunted down by the herd of armed men using shot guns to fire at them. The gunfire was now coming in our direction. Taking shelter behind a large truck, I had lost my friend and was looking around to see where he might be. Armed governmental bodies stormed past me firing randomly, and although I could not see their target, it was now obvious that they had no intention of letting anyone into the central part of the city.
No longer able to see what was happening, the sound of constant gunfire went on for another 15 minutes. The street was now empty, as I could no longer hear the people’s commotion. I slowly got up and walked on the pavement looking in the direction of the protesters. Now all that could be seen was a plague of governmental vehicles and green buses, hundreds of regime thugs surrounding them. I caught a glimpse of people being thrown on the buses. At this moment I was reunited with my friend, who had nothing to say but motioned to the opposite direction indicating that we should start walking. Walking away we cried like little children, feeling useless and helpless I had no doubt I was going to be told it was not my fault and that there was nothing I could have done. But to have seen the massacre of innocent people right in front of my eyes, and standing only a few meters away from the murderers that were doing it, I could not help but assure myself that I was a coward. On that day, the 22nd of April 2011, freedom was stabbed in the back.
WE WILL NOT FORGET THE BRAVE MEN THAT STOOD UP IN THE FACE OF TERROR AND CARRIED THEIR DEAD TOWARDS THEIR FREEDOM.
video footage of a remaining sniper on the top of the Al Thawra building
video footage of the protesters trying to get those wounded and killed to safety
And so we have it, a march by the people to the center of the capital. Isn’t this what we are all talking about? That Damascenes should stand up together and march to one location? Well this event took place 5 months ago and remains a scar. The government made its point loud and clear, that any group of people, regardless how many, who may get the idea of taking part in such a movement again, would be in grave danger.
The next day, thousands took to the streets in mourning of those who were killed on Friday. An estimated 125 people died on that day alone across the country as a result of security forces attacking the peaceful demonstrations.
Young Daniegh in the United States in this video is a demonstration of will and determination.
She was so thoughtful as to write me a letter with her support and beautiful words. I have never been so moved. You have touched my heart Daniegh 🙂 and believe me, the Syrian people thank you we all do from the bottom of our hearts.
Dear Alex, My name is Daniegh (pronounced Dan-Yah) I am 9 years old,&I live in the southeast of THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.I want you to know that you are my hero.I was doing my homework ,and i saw on anderson cooper360 a horrible video of 2 yr old ola al jablawi.i didnt know her name then ,so my family called her “BABY FREEDOM” .I could not believe any1 would butcher a innocent baby like that.Her face wasnt fully shown,so i looked it up on youtube.I CRIED SO HARD!When i seen it was your own leader,your own soldiers,i was mad as –well,HELL! Instead of my mom hiding the truth to me she was honest.IT WAS SOMETHING I COULD NOT SIT BY AND LET HAPPEN WITHOUT MY VOICE,AND RIGHT NOW YOUR PEOPLE NEEDS YOUR VOICE.You are Syria’s only hope..the young like us.The youth.I look middle eastern,Ive even been called a terrorist a time or 2 by ignorant people.Im actually Half Irish American, and half African American.I come from the slaves of the u.s.My grand father fought for civil rights in the u.s. during the civil right movement for african americans.THEIR LEADER MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. WAS GUNNED DOWN..MANY PEOPLE WERE LYNCHED,HUNG,TORTURED,MUTILATED,ARRESTED,THEY HAD BIG GERMAN SHEPARD ATTACK DOGS THEY WOULD LET LOOSE ON THE CHILDREN…CHILDREN WERE ARRESTED…MY grandaddy say…”if u aint got nothing to die for,you got nothing to live for.freedom isnt free.”i believe that.He is looking at what is happening in Syria,and hurts,for he knows your fear…he said he would be so afraid during those marches his legs would shake,to where he thought he was gonna fall down.and his jaw would clench to where he could barely chant a word…BUT HE SAID IF HE DIDNT DO IT,THEN I WOULD STILL BE IN BONDAGE HERE IN AMERICA… I guess what i am trying to say is,I KNOW U FEEL ALONE.IT LOOKS AS IF THE WORLD HEARS NOTHING!BUT I HEAR YOU,MANY HEAR YOU.AND IF GOD IS WITH U,THEN WHO CAN BE AGAINST U? I DONT KNOW ALOT OF FEAR BECAUSE I AM FREE.I CAN SAY AND DO WHAT I WANT.BUT MANY MANY PEOPLE DIED FOR THAT RIGHT.HOW U ALL STAY NON VIOLENT I DONT KNOW.THAT SHOWS THE WORLD HOW BRAVE U ARE!!! THEY CAN TAKE YOUR FREEDOM,YOUR FOOD,EVEN YOUR LIVES,BUT THEY CANNOT KILL A DREAM.IT IS IN OUR SOULS AS A HUMAN RACE TO BE FREE.JUST THINK OF YOUR FUTURE CHILDREN…WILL THEY BE FREE?I hope to be able to come and visit a free syria some day soon.I WANT TO HUG AND SHAKE THE HANDS OF MY HEROES.TO HUG YOU. I DONT KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY EXCEPT, I LOVE YOU,MY BROTHER! PLEASE KEEP THE HOPE ALIVE…I havent had any heroes in a long time.BUT NOW I GO TO SCHOOL AND TELL MY FRIENDS AND TEACHERS ABOUT THE WONDERFUL SYRIAN FREEDOM FIGHTERS.and i make posters and shirts and I AM PROUD TO SAY I LOVE SYRIA,AND ITS PEOPLE. YOU,ALEXANDER, ARE MY HERO IN WHOM I AM WELL PLEASED! LoveAlways, Daniegh
I was in Ommayad mosque, it was a Friday, and me and a friend who had news of a large protest taking place in that mosque appointed during Friday prayers decided we would take part. I mainly wanted to get some filming done. While entering the mosque, it was obvious that there was a really high security presence, men in plain clothes were on the side of the mosque holding black batons, which made me think twice about continuing, but I wasn’t going to turn around now. They would probably realize something was up and approach us. So we went inside and headed to a spot near the Imam who was already giving his speech.
The sheikh was explaining that the west was trying to fiddle with Syria’s society and trying to break its unity. For a moment I was sure nothing was going to happen, looking around me I saw people who looked bored and seemed as if they were just attending prayers like any other Friday. And just then we heard a large banging noise, which came from the exit at the far left behind us from where we were sitting. I didn’t know what the sound was, but suddenly people were up and running towards the door, and the sheikh was shouting in the microphone trying to get people to stay put, but with no luck. We then made it towards the door, I quickly reached for my phone and started filming while walking towards the commotion. People were chanting “Freedom” and so I joined even though I had promised myself that I was only going to film. We then went on to chant in support of the people of Daraa. This went on for about 2 – 3 minutes and we were trying to get outside, but it seemed something was stopping people from moving. Finally, I was almost out the door and just as I was turning back to make sure my friend was behind me, a man in his late 20′s grabbed me from the chest. Initially, I didn’t realize what was happening because I had seen this person just a minute ago chanting freedom like us, but then I could see behind him just on the outside part of the mosque protesters being beaten by plainly-clothed security men. He then tried to pull me outside. I managed to quickly get loose and ran in the opposite direction, and the first thing that came to mind was deleting the film, but I didn’t have time for that as I was sure the man was chasing me. I saw my friend ahead and gave him the phone while speeding past him. Just ahead, I could see that the sheikh had started prayers and about 20 people were taking part so I decided to jump in the line with them while taking my jacket off, but just as I settled down, I was pulled out of the line by 2 men who immediately started pounding me to the floor, One of them was dragging me from my hands while the other was beating me,
As I was dragged out of the exit, I realized that the protesters had scattered away and all that remained were people being beaten like me. I was handed over to a large group of thugs with batons who seemed hungry for my arrival and I could hear one saying “hato al kalb” meaning “bring him here, that dog.” I was lifted on my feet and pushed quickly out of the courtyard, just outside the main doors there was a beige bus with pictures of the president all over. They were loading people onto the bus, and I think I was the last person, as it started moving once I was on it. I was thrown to the floor right by the driver who also took a swing at my head saying “badak huriyah ya 3arsa” meaning you want “freedom you %*>%.” Just a few meters away from me towards the back of the bus, a young man in his 20’s had the attention of most of our captors, and he was screaming “why are you doing this we are calling for your freedoms we are not hurting anyone we are peaceful protesters.” This made them more furious and so they continued to beat him for the remainder of the drive. Soon his voice became an echo in my head as I was more interested in what I was going to say once interrogated. I decided I was going to say that I just happened to be there and saw people chanting and got carried away and apologize for it.
I couldn’t see where we were headed because I was on the ground with my head pushed against the driver’s seat. We arrived at our destination a few minutes later, as the driver stepped on me in order to open the doors I glimpsed a crowd of mukhabarat waiting on the steps of a building’s entrance. I was dragged towards them and again was hit repeatedly as if it was their last chance to take a blow at me. I realized on the way up the front steps that I was in an area called Jibeh and this now made me sure that I had been brought to the secret police political branch in the very centre of Damascus, well known and notorious for its role in abusing prisoners. At this moment they pulled a dirty rug over my face and pushed and pounded me moving quickly through what seemed to be a hallway and down at-least 3 staircases. I could hear people screaming from far away and their voices getting closer and closer as we moved on. I myself was very quiet, I was terrified. The men rushed me through a long corridor and with the rug shifting over one side of me I could see to my left people crawled in the corner just under the stairwell. I was finally thrown into a small cell which had no door to it. I immediately turned my attention to a man in his 40’s who was also in the cell, he looked at me and blabbered “you are too young for this” then shouted at the men who brought me in “we are humans.” Suddenly 4 or 5 men rampaged into the open room and took lashes at both of us. But this didn’t go on for long as they were occupied with the rest of the detainees that were being stampeded by us.
After about 10 minutes the atmosphere calmed a bit, someone came in and searched me and took my watch, belt, shoes and money. The man still nearby mumbling to himself and looking at me shaking his head. Although we didn’t speak, I felt very attached to him, with a look in his eyes of affection and pity towards me. We were left there staring at each other, during which the sounds of screaming and begging haunted me. I impossibly tried to ignore the sounds and instead thought about what I was going to say when interrogated and vowed to myself that I would not tell them anything of my other activities whatever the circumstances. The guards and thugs who brought us in were just at the door standing there whispering to each other but seemed as if they were talking about normal day life issues. These circumstances didn’t seem to be different than any other day to them.
2-3 hours later, a man walks in and kicks me telling me to stand up. I walked with him past the guards and further down the corridor. Walking by, I could feel heads and eyes turn from both sides at me, and he said that I should not look neither left nor right or he would have to hurt me. He then led me into one of the rooms on the same side as the one we were in, but this one was much brighter, and he told me to stand by and that I should be honest and not lie about anything to his Mua’alim meaning “Teacher or Master”. He was strangely being very polite. While he spoke to me, I couldn’t help but notice the Asus-branded laptop, which lay on a 4 legged plain table and a beaten up couch in-front of it, so i quickly recalled to myself my email and password information as I knew these were going to be asked for. Suddenly a man walks in with 2 other men who followed behind. The man was wearing a tracksuit but seeing the other’s frightened of him led me to believe he was obviously a high ranking officer. He sat on the couch and stared at me and began asking me questions such as my name, date of birth, which city I was from. He didn’t inquire of the protest but instead jumped right to my Facebook credentials and as I noted them to him he started entering them into the laptop which took some time. He seemed to make a mistake purposely with the password and then shouted “you laughing at me”? and ordered the men to start beating me. They were loyal with speed, and I quickly offered to type it in myself but this he didn’t like. The password process took at-least 10 minutes but again this was not out of stupidity, as I was being kicked and pounded while he looked through my account. He ordered the men to take me to a spare cell for further interrogation and that they could carry it out themselves. They seemed thankful of this as they pulled me out the room across to one of the cells on the other side.
Once in, I was told to take my clothes off, and left in only my boxers. Two middle sized men began to kick me in the upper part of my body and crushed me down onto the floor as a third man filmed and laughed at me. “Who was with you? who told you about the protest?” they screamed at me. I kept repeating myself saying that it was just by chance and that I knew I had made a mistake, but they were not having it. As I took blows to the body I lost all sense of pain and I no longer felt anything, but this they seemed aware of as one of the men started to strangle me by the neck. I must have passed out 3 or 4 times and each time they would punish me for doing so. They then made me stand up for hours on end. I was not allowed to sleep at all as they went in and out of the cell over the coming hours. Soon and I had already lost track of time, each time I would fall asleep it would not take long for them to beat me to wake up. I had never imagined that not sleeping could cause so much pain. It became a sort of routine that I had gotten used to, I could hear ongoing screams from other cells. It was clear that I was not the worst off, but as time went by and I was given neither food nor water, the experience was gradually becoming un-ethical.
I could no longer feel my feet but still I was forced to stand up. My stomach and lungs felt compressed and ached. It no longer seemed as if they were interested in what I had to say as I was no longer asked any questions. With only the ongoing beatings and suffocating techniques, I started to feel as though my breath was going to stop at any second, when I panicked of this without having to speak they would throw a bucket of water over me and unable to open my eyes, I could sense them standing there watching me as I licked the water dripping down my face. But this was not just water as it smelled of bleach. Losing my breath as i swallowed they laughed at me. I tried to act as if I was dead but this meant nothing to them and they continued to beat me constantly. the men I encountered were not everyday people you meet, with no sense of mercy they repeatedly humiliated me with their insults and threatened me “we will fuck your mom and make you watch us doing it, have you tried that before? Have you tried watching strong men fucking your Mother?” The words replayed in my head for the remainder of my time. I had never felt the fear that I was in at that moment.
After what felt like hundreds of hours, I was dragged out into another room. This time totally unaware of where I was taken. I was given my clothes and slumped onto a chair by a desk. It took me forever to put my clothes on as my muscles were loose to an incredible extent. The room was really bright and I could barely open my eyes as a man walked in. I recognized him by his voice to be the same high ranking officer who took my credentials days before. He started to slap me across the face shouting that I should dress more quickly and also smirked “you have only been in there for 2 days, some people have done years.” He then said that they were going to release me. I started to weep like a child. He then beat me even more, and said that I was not going anywhere before signing some papers. I had heard about these documents before. My signature would be a statement that I would never take part in such activities again and that I was wrong in doing so, etc. I was given a pen and forced to sign about 5 times, very quickly someone was turning over each page as not to see what was written, even though I was incapable of seeing my own signature. Upon signing all the pages, the officer began to pull me by my hair down on the floor and smacked my face with his other hand he slapped me at least 20 times, and then walked out the room with his shoulders widespread and arms dangling down on his sides.
I was picked up and taken to the other end of the hallway where I had previously seen people under the stairwell but they were missing this time. The guard shouted at me to find my shoes in a pile of at least 100 pairs. Once I got through this currently impossible task and put them on, the guard made me take my jacket back off and place it over my head as he pulled me up the stairs. I could hear gates being opened and shackles all around me. Once on flat ground whilst being led to the door and the jacket still blinding me, the guard told me that I would walk out the door and take a right and not look back, and to keep walking and once far enough to take a taxi and not a bus or they would take me back to the cell for another few days. As he took the jacket off my head and allowed me to put it on, I could see it was early morning and that no cars were around. He walked me down the steps and took a right with me, and a few meters later told me to walk on. The releasing procedure happened obscurely fast.
I could still barely feel my legs after a few 100 meters which was torture to walk. I decided to just take a taxi because I was too tired to search or wait for a bus. I found an empty taxi quite soon after deciding to do so, and I directed the driver to my house. While on the way there, he looked at me in curiosity and asked me if everything was OK? I then started to cry and explained to him that I was just locked out of my house all night and that I had now gotten the key, but he answered me back saying “I know where you were, its OK ‘ammo’ (my child).” He then patted me on my shoulder and continued to stare at me. I then knew why the guard didn’t want me to get into a taxi and prayed that I was not being followed. My money, watch, and belt were not given back to me, this I realized once I was at my destination and not having any money to pay with, the taxi driver didn’t even hesitate to let me off and told me to take care of myself. I later realized that I had in fact been in custody for 3 days as it was a Monday. Maybe the fact that the officer had seen thousands like me in his cells meant that he no longer kept trail of his prisoners’ times. I slept for days on end and finally got up again.
Being home was a relief, but I now felt more neglect of rights than ever before. I decided that I was never going to stop what I was doing, but instead this time I would be much more careful. Maybe take the role of a journalist instead, as this could be safer than actually taking part in the protests. I have since been active in a reporting sense, and much determined as I have now tasted what the Syrian people fear most. Every now and again nightmares of my encounter do not fail to haunt me in real-time replay, but somehow this makes me stronger. I now can not deny my hatred. The Syrian Revolution is not an easy one we can not just topple the regime and move on, the Syrian Regime is one of the most brutal and uncivil regimes on the face of the planet. While the international community hesitates to take action, Russia, the Lebanese Hizbollah Militia and notorious Iran throw their weight behind the Syrian President, and WE, the Syrian people struggle to gain momentum. But yes, we are gaining momentum and we are sure we have won this fight already, the question is no longer: will we? but rather, when and how will we? I hate to think otherwise, because if the Syrian dictator Bashar Al Assad gets full control back and calms the situation in hand down, then WE, the Freedom callers of Syria shall be Annihilated…….. one… by… one.