Writing from Aleppo to exile and back again
I see my psychotherapist on a weekly basis, without any of the feelings of shame widespread in our society regarding this practice. But I have a barrel of guilt inside me that is wearing away what is left of the love of life in my heart. Wednesday at noon is the time I steal away... Continue Reading →
“I should have cried.” This is the only thing that goes through my head over and over again when I remember the little girl that was torn into pieces. I don't know anything about her, and from her remains I couldn’t guess her age, but I do remember how I stood there, distraught. I didn't... Continue Reading →
I open Facebook to find a birthday greeting. I grasped the opportunity to return the greeting, making up for those three years in which I couldn't send him birthday wishes. Those were the three years he spent in prison for writing on the Internet. I used to contribute to his site. It was called Akhawia. Karim... Continue Reading →
Very few Syrians have not experienced compulsory displacement. The fact of having to move from one place to another, abandoning the tangible present while ruminating on memories over and over again until they’re worn out. And like many Syrians, I too have a story involving houses—“luckily”, I should add, because for hundreds of thousands of people... Continue Reading →
Perhaps I have overwhelmed you with the details of my personal loss, telling you in a previous article the story of my mother and the murderer that grew in me after she was killed. But today I don’t think I can talk about what’s going on in Syria without conveying to you the cries of... Continue Reading →
When I was asked to write about the Islamic State in Syria and Iraq (ISIS), I left the blank page open on my computer for several days. How was I to write about ISIS for others, for people who have not suffered the same amount of violence and chaos? And what responsibility do we as... Continue Reading →
For you to understand the situation more accurately, allow me to place you in the place and time it happened, and offer some details. The Time: October 7, 2013. It was the night my friend Abdulwahab Almulla, a rebel and an artist, was kidnapped. It happened during the period when kidnappings became common, before Syrians... Continue Reading →
On a very normal day, during lunch with a friend in Turkey, away from the pounding of bombs and death, and close to suffocation with guilt at being away from my city, enjoying luxuries like electricity and communications services while Aleppo is dying, I—being as much of a social media addict as the next... Continue Reading →
Since the part of Aleppo where I live was liberated from the Syrian government authorities, our electricity supply has been cut off as a collective punishment for a city on the verge of liberation. It doesn't matter whether you support or oppose the regime, because the ruler of the country behaves as if he is... Continue Reading →
Time and time again, I keep putting off writing this article. For someone who lost her mother to a lethal bullet, writing about mothers, and about Mother's Day, is not completely therapeutic. Even if we agree that writing has magical powers, some kinds of pain are simply too colossal. They wear down your body and... Continue Reading →
Marcelle Shehwaro 