Marah

Despite all the hardships of life, and despite all the closed doors, there are some little windows through which light always reaches us. My college is a source of light in my life. It is where I meet people and experience life. Although I hear tragic stories every day, college is the place that helps me forget my issues and concerns. But the craziness of our times even reaches the academy. Two days ago, security officers raided our college and chased students, attempting to arrest them. Everyone was so scared, and students ran like little mice. I do not mean to demean my friends by using that analogy; it just felt like, in that moment, they were not human beings with the right to respect. The security officers were looking for particular names, but as usual they instilled terror in the whole place.

Many of my friends want to leave the country, but traveling is very expensive and everyone has spent all of their savings in the last few years. Because of our forced migration, women greatly outnumber men in Syria. I understand why everyone is trying to leave. Life here is like a frightening wilderness—there is no stability and no security—so we cannot thrive or live fully.

Occasionally I wonder why I am still attached to my studies. Maybe because it was my choice to study prosthetics. Or maybe because I hope that one day I might be able to help those who have lost their limbs and their hope. Maybe it’s hard for you to understand what I mean, if you come from a very different place. But where I live, when someone loses a limb, she becomes disabled and dependent, while in other parts of the world, I hear that people who have lost limbs live full lives—you even have competitive sporting leagues.

You know, despite all the humiliation and deprivation that I have faced in my city, I still truly love it. I love its people. Maybe because I was raised as a forgiving person, forgiveness is something the conflict couldn’t take away from me. I used to think that forgiveness was a sign of weakness, but I now realize that it’s a source of strength. That said, I admit that there are some people whom I hate, like the owner of our building, who keeps increasing the rent whenever he can, even though he knows how bad our situation is.

They are doing renovations at work, so my manager asked me to take two months off. While it’s good that I can commit all of my time to my studies, time off decreases my income, which makes life harder for me since I have to pay for my own education and transportation expenses. I think I’ll have to look for a part-time job during these two months.

One thing that stresses me out is that my friends were able to develop themselves this summer. They enrolled in language and computer classes, while all I did was struggle to generate income. I have many desires, but I cannot pursue any of them. “I would like” and “I want” are expressions I don’t use anymore, but I do want so many things. Will a day come when I live with dignity? ♦

Marah’s diary is produced in collaboration with Syria Deeply, a digital news outlet covering the Syrian crisis. It was translated from the Arabic by Mais Istanbelli.