Yahoo – AFP,
Serene Assir, 12 March 2016
![]() |
Migrants
and refugees warm themselves around a bonfire at a makeshift camp
on the
Greek-Macedonian border (AFP Photo/Dimitar Dilkoff)
|
Beirut
(AFP) - When hopeful pro-democracy activists in Syria took to the streets in
2011, they couldn't have imagined that five years later they might end up
living as refugees in Europe.
Using
smartphones to keep up with the news from camps and relatives' homes thousands
of kilometres (miles) away, they mourn a revolt that gave way to an
internationalised war.
"When
I arrived in Germany, I felt like I was living with an open wound, like I'd
lost my soul. I felt guilty for leaving everything behind," says Jimmy
Shahinian, a 28-year-old activist with sharp features and jet-black hair.
![]() |
Syria's
conflict erupted on March 15, 2011,
when protesters massed on the streets
to
demand that President Bashar al-Assad
step down (AFP Photo/Anwar Amro)
|
Syria's
conflict erupted on March 15, 2011, when protesters massed on the streets to
demand that President Bashar al-Assad step down.
Activists
took the lead, using Facebook and Skype to organise protests, speak with
international journalists, and broadcast clever slogans calling for the
regime's downfall.
Shahinian,
a Christian, joined the movement, and was subsequently jailed and tortured.
When the
jihadist Islamic State group took over his native city Raqa in 2013, he began
receiving terrifying death threats.
Smuggled
into Turkey in an ambulance, Shahinian became one of nearly five million
Syrians who have fled the country since the conflict began.
But even in
Turkey, where at least three young anti-IS activists have been assassinated in
recent months, he felt unsafe.
"I had
no choice but to leave," he says.
Like most
other new arrivals in Germany, his first port of call was an asylum-seeker
camp, where he shared a room with some 10 other people.
He tries to
keep his cause alive by volunteering for a civil society group in Berlin named
Citizens for Syria and learning German, though he admits "it is very hard
to get used to the new life".
"I
suppose it's always this way. We sparked the revolution, and the spark is
always the first to burn."
'Besieged
in my head'
Some, like
citizen journalist Yazan, are unable to abandon a cause that they were ready to
die for.
Yazan lived
through a brutal, nearly two-year siege in the Old City of Homs, once known as
the "capital of the revolution" but now squarely back in regime
hands.
He would
spend his days snapping photos of children playing in rubble, rebels standing
guard, wounded being rushed to dismally equipped field hospitals and cats
wandering through ancient architectural gems reduced to ruins.
By night,
Yazan would sign into Skype to speak to journalists covering Syria, shedding
light on the destruction of Homs and on military developments on the
frontlines.
After
surviving daily bombardment and eating little more than weeds for months, he
has spent the past year in the quiet comfort of his uncle's idyllic home in
Saint Etienne, central France.
Although he
lives in a different world, Yazan says the conflict, and its root cause, remain
with him.
He spends
his nights poring over activists' Facebook pages, following minute-by-minute
developments on the ground.
"In
Syria my body was besieged. Here, I am besieged in my head," says the
30-year-old.
He admits
he can't move on while his father and brother remain among the estimated
200,000 people held in the regime's hellish jails.
"Here
I can eat, I can sleep in safety. But however hard I try, I can't imagine the
future," Yazan says.
"My
whole life is on hold until the regime falls."
Major
powers' 'playing field'
Ahmad
al-Rifai, a 24-year-old who spent months taking photos in opposition
strongholds across northern Syria, is also in Germany -- where more than one
million asylum requests were registered last year.
He blames
the Syrian government but also the international community for the
transformation of the revolt into a war that has killed 270,000 people.
"In
the good old days, the people would decide when and where to protest, or when
to go on strike," Rifai says.
"Now,
the Syrian people have no decision-making power at all. Syria has become a
playing field for major powers like Russia, the United States and Iran."
Despite the
pain of watching his ravaged country from afar, Rifai tries to stay hopeful.
He has
learned to speak German since arriving in Aachen city in 2014, and he serves as
a translator between newly arrived refugees and Red Cross volunteers.
In April,
he will start an internship with a digital media company. He hopes one day to
return to Syria, to help rebuild.
"Once
an activist, always an activist," he says.




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