The last month of the military attack was cruel and cannot be described with any words or alphabet; panic, darkness, starvation and death everywhere. I lost my eldest brother during an attack by a warplane raid. He stayed in the intensive care unit for two days then died. My parents are almost 70 years old. I have two young brothers, one is five years older than the other.
They were crucial moments. My decision is related with my parents and brothers. My brothers cannot stay here; they say the Regime is taking all young men to the military service or detention centers. My parents are old and cannot leave their town after 70 years there. My brother left his two little children and their mother. My family loves them so much. I love my brothers so much.
Never in my life I have thought of this loss; the loss of my brothers, the loss of my town and all the related things, my students, my friends…desks and classrooms, waking up in the morning, going to school, welcoming my students in the first class … the words may betray me in describing and expressing.
They took off in the displacement buses and I stayed with my parents and the children of my martyr brother in the town. I did not know if the decision was right, I did not know what to choose. I stayed in the town with my parents. One brother left us a martyr and the other two left in the forced displacement buses.
For me, I do not know the future. Maybe there will not be a suffocating siege or shelling but what about my brothers, what will happen, will we stay here, will they let us leave, will they allow me to continue teaching, how will my parents health be after my brothers absence… I do not know. I will pray for God to be with us and with them and to bring us with my martyr brother in heaven.
Safaa, 30 years old single English teacher.
Photo by: Sameer Al-Doumy / AFP