It was a fresh new morning of 14th `December 2015 when I logged onto Facebook and found this post about a really young Iraqi refugee, named ‘Aya’. This is Aya’s picture as posted on the page of Humans of New York.
A page called “Humans Of New York,” had posted about how her life took a surprising turn, with the unfavourable events unfolding for her one after the other. She’s just about twenty years of age, but once you know what her entire story is all about, I’m sure you’ll be as compelled as I am at this point of time. Her tale is sure to leave you spellbound as well as in tears. I am about to narrate. It is in her own words, that she describes what she has been through, all thanks to Humans Of New York, for supporting persons like her and letting the entire world get to know and help refugees who are in deep need of moral support and financial support as well.
Aya’s tale, as narrated to Humans Of New York. : –
“When I was a baby I came very close to dying. I’m not sure how to say the name of the disease in English, but all the water in my body started to dry. I couldn’t gain weight and I became very weak. This was during Saddam’s time, and the hospital staff told my mother that in two days they would euthanize me. But my mother refused to accept this. She called everywhere and found a clinic in Jordan that said they could give me treatment. There was an American doctor there who saved my life. We stayed in Jordan until I was seven, and then we moved back to Baghdad. One day I was playing in our garden and I heard very loud noises and the sky was really red and everyone was screaming. It’s very hard to describe. It was like there was blood in the sky.”
(Gaziantep, Turkey)
“This is a photo of me right before the war came. Maybe my parents knew the war was coming, but they didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have understood. I didn’t even know the meaning of war. Bombs started falling all around us. We lived very near one of Saddam’s castles. My mother told us: ‘It will be very loud, but nothing bad will happen to us. We will all be here together.’ Many houses in our neighborhood were destroyed, but I’d close my ears and sing songs whenever the bombs came close. In the cartoon shows, the good always wins, so I thought that we were good and nothing would happen to us. Then one day I heard a big sound and I saw that my best friend Miriam’s house had been destroyed. We walked to school together every day. I went to see if she was OK and I saw Miriam on the ground. She didn’t have any legs and she was screaming and I can still hear that sound now. They pulled me away but I saw everything. I don’t think it was good for a child to see this.”
(Gaziantep, Turkey)
“After Miriam died, I began to have silly thoughts. I thought that I was supposed to be President of the World. It sounds funny now but I was just ten years old. I thought that if I was really clever in school and got all the best marks, I would become a leader and I could stop the war. I could just tell everyone to love each other and they would listen to me. I taught myself English during this time. I would listen to American songs and translate every word. I’d watch Hollywood movies. I’d practice talking to myself in front of the mirror every night. I’d even give gum to American soldiers so I could have conversations with them. I thought maybe if I just concentrated on my studies, I could avoid the war. It worked for two years. But one day I was driving with my father and a car bomb exploded ahead of us. I got out of the car because I thought that maybe I could save the people but there were hands and heads in the street. Everyone was dead. It was like a horror movie. It was like Titanic but it was really happening and it was in the street.”
“These things are very hard for me to remember, but I try not to cry because I want to be strong for my mother. It was hardest for her because she had children. During the war she had to worry about herself, but she also had to worry about us. It made her very ill. Her blood pressure is very high now. Her hand shakes. She has bladder problems. But she is my hero because she always protected us. One time when my father wasn’t home, a strange man entered our house. But my mother pretended to be a man and screamed downstairs in a very deep voice. And she saved us.”
“These things are very hard for me to remember, but I try not to cry because I want to be strong for my mother. It was hardest for her because she had children. During the war she had to worry about herself, but she also had to worry about us. It made her very ill. Her blood pressure is very high now. Her hand shakes. She has bladder problems. But she is my hero because she always protected us. One time when my father wasn’t home, a strange man entered our house. But my mother pretended to be a man and screamed downstairs in a very deep voice. And she saved us.”
“I was fourteen when I arrived in Syria. Those were the best two years of my life. The first day we arrived, I made my father take me to school so I could register. I was doing so well in school. I got very good grades. I got so many awards and my teachers kept telling me that I had a very bright future. They told me: ‘One day Aya, you will be the voice of refugees.’ On the weekend I was volunteering to help other refugees. I organized an entire chorus of refugees. Things were going so well. My father was working as a driver. We were very comfortable. Then war came to Syria. It began for me as a bomb threat at our school. Then people began killing each other in the street. I was studying one afternoon, and I looked out the window, and a man smashed another man’s head with a stone. Right in front of me. Our landlord told us: ‘I am leaving the country. Everyone must go.’ So again we became refugees. We put everything we had into six bags, and we left.”
“George is my refugee dog. We’ve been through many horrible things together. I found him in Baghdad when he was just a puppy. My father and I were driving down the road and I saw some teenagers holding George by the ears and hitting him. I jumped out of the car and begged them to stop and gave them all the money I had. George was so thin and dirty, and the doctor said he was very sick and he’d only survive if I took perfect care of him. And look at him now! He’s been with me through Iraq, Syria, Turkey… everything. Whenever he sees me crying, he jumps in my lap and uses his paw to pull my hands away from my face.”
“My years in Turkey have been the hardest four years of my life. When we first arrived from Syria, we couldn’t communicate with anyone. I had no friends. If we wanted an egg from the store, we had to make chicken sounds. I paid for everything in this apartment by working as an interpreter for an NGO. We started at a zero and I built us up to a six, all by myself, and I’m very proud of that. But we can go no further without citizenship. I can’t get a degree. I can’t work any other job. Turkey has taken many refugees and we should be thankful for that. And the people here were nice to us at first. Our neighbors brought us rice and food. But then more refugees came. And more. And then everything changed. Now people shout at us in the streets. They tell us to leave. But we have nowhere to go. A man recently started sending me messages on Facebook, saying: ‘Get out!’ I didn’t even know him! Why me? Why did he choose me? We’ve had to switch apartments four times because our landlord decided that Arabic people are no longer allowed. I’ve been hit by a car. My sister got hit in the face at school and lost two teeth, and now her vision is bad in one eye. Being a refugee is really hard. They blame us for everything. They blame us for no jobs. For crowded streets. For crime. They say that we are the reason for everything bad. And if war ever comes to Turkey, we’ll be the first to die. Because they’ll blame us for that too.”
“We applied for resettlement in America. We did all our paperwork. We had two different interviews in Istanbul. Then we waited for a very long time. For months I kept checking the website, but it always said: ‘Case pending.’ Then one night my friend called me, very excited. It was midnight. She told us there had been an update on the website. I ran to the computer, entered our case number, and it said ‘Case accepted!’ I zoomed in on the word ‘accepted’ and my hand started shaking. I screamed to my family: ‘Turn off the TV! We’re going to America!’ It was like a wedding. We turned on the music. We started dancing and crying and kissing each other. A new life! The United States! We couldn’t believe it! Over the next few weeks I spent so much time on the computer. I searched for schools for my brother and sisters. I found the university I wanted to study in. I found a hospital for my mother. I was searching for jobs for my father. I had everything planned. I even found extra clothes for George because I thought it might be cold. In the evenings I’d sit with my sisters and help them plan what their rooms would look like. And Christmas time was coming. We thought we would go to New York during Christmas time! We were even planning to see the big tree! For two months we dreamed like this. Then a letter came in the mail.”

http://www.change.org/friendsofaya
She has gone through all of this? I have met discrimination for my accent, but never anything close to this. It sucks that the government and people in general treat her bad because she follows one god or has one tone of skin.
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So sad, her situation parallels the experience of my wife whose family had to flee their own country during WWII and find discrimination in the countries they fled through and to before being accepted as refugees to Australia. It leaves a lifelong scar.
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Reblogged this on everdeepening and commented:
From Iraq to Syria to Turkey…but not the US?
For those with an abstract concept, framed mostly by fear of terrorism, of what it means to be a Middle Eastern refugee.
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I’ve signed the petition…she has every right to live a good life…
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Thanks a lot!
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Touching…
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I love Humans of New York. He is making a real difference in the world. I hope Aya’s story has a happy ending.
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Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.
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Thank you so much!
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My pleasure, great post.
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