Washington, DC

Photo by PoPville flickr user Eric P.

“Dear PoPville, I was once a refugee.

While there is a nation wide discussion about the refugees of the war in Syria, I wanted to share my own experience.

I still remember the day when I came back home from school; I was surprised to see my mother there at the time when she should have been at work. I asked her something and she said no because we have to leave the country. Then she told me that the night before, 2 of my aunts and her husbands were killed by the military. My dear cousin, the one I used to play with, was also killed. I was around 12. Who knows, we could be next.

The day after that, we landed on a country that now is synonym of “wonderful vacation” for most people, but not for me. Living there was not easy. We had to line up to get food, be constantly harassed by immigration asking us for papers, people there made fun of us because of our accent. But there was also that private school that allowed me and my cousins study in the meantime. The teachers were particularly nice and understanding.

Once the situation of my country went back to normal and safety, we returned. That’s where our friends and family were, our culture, our home. Thanks for reading.”


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