The fuel

Salaam aleikum va rahmatu Llahi (n.n. May the peace and mercy of Allah be with you).
Today I wish to tell you about another one of my experiences during my time in the refugee camp in Syria.
At the end of the fall, when it began to get cold outside and, inside the camp there was a dire need for heating the tents, we (n.n. the Muslim Sisters inside the camp) were given a special fuel for the heating stoves we had inside our tents. Of course, there was a certain amount of fuel allotted to each tent each month, so we only received 2 canisters of 25 liters each per month. We called the fuel “gas”, even though it was not gas per se. I have to mention that the heating expenses were high, and the fuel was not always sufficient, especially since we were forced to use it daily for cooking as well. The main issue was that, once the fuel was over, there was no possible way to procure anymore, especially because the soldiers did not allow this kind of “gas” to be sold at the market outside the camp, so he had save fuel as much as we could to suffice us both for daily heating and cooking. For me, Alhamdulillah (n.n. Praised be Allah!), the gas was sufficient I could even make some small reserves, as the „cold season” stretched only from November till April. The fuel I saved I could use during the next “cold season”. Sometimes, of course, we Muslim Sisters helped each other, and we could afford to spare and share a small amount of fuel, giving it to another Sister in need.
But, the most interesting part of this story is about the way in which we received the fuel. During the first year of my stay inside the camp, we had to “reserve” our spot in the queue for the fuel a few days in advance before the date in which the fuel was being distributed by the soldier. Because there were so many of us, Muslim Sisters, we would place our canisters in a long row and signed the, with markers. The whole process of procuring fuel took several days and often proved to be quite and adventure. Later on, the entire process was simplified by the soldiers and, starting with the second year of my time in the camp, a guard would come each month and gather the cards which contained our personal data. In theory, everything seemed simple and easy, you just had to give the card and that was the end of it. In practice, things were a lot different. For starters, you had to stand in a queue and wait outside on your feet for more than half a day, in the blazing sun and scorching heat, until the responsible guard showed up and then, when he finally arrived, you had to make your way through the crowd and manage somehow to give your personal card to him or her, before he or she left. The responsible guard usually stayed for about 5 minutes. Some Sisters managed to give their cards to him or her, while others did not. This whole part of the process took about 5 days, with the responsible guard coming to the camp each day, while the Sisters crowded each time to give him or her their personal cards.
When this first and most important stage was over, it was time for the second part of the process of procuring fuel. You had to wait for the day in which the responsible guard would come back to the camp, called out your name and stated that you have been granted permission to receive your much awaited fuel portion. The guard would then proceed to give your card back and, afterwards, you would have to take your place in the queue. When you reached the end of the line, you had to pass through „a corridor” of soldiers and approach the truck that was carrying the ”gas”. Then, you had to fill your 2 canisters (and I need to remind you now, my dear readers, that each canisters had 25 liters, and go back to you tent, carrying the heavy canisters. Oh, those canisters were incredibly heavy indeed, and you had to move and walk very fast, as the women soldiers, who were carrying loaded weapons, would constantly yell at you to hurry up. I have to tell you, my dear readers, that the women soldiers were often harder on us and meaner with us than the male soldiers, who seemed to be more understanding in these situations.
In one of the days in which we were supposed to receive our fuel portions for that month, I was feeling very ill and, while standing in the heat outside and waiting in line, I suddenly felt I was about to faint. I managed to hold myself together, control the sensations of sickness and nausea and stop myself from fainting, I took back my card and starting heading towards the truck to get my gas. They helped me fill my canisters and I tried lifting them up, both at the same time and carry them back to my tent, as the woman soldier standing beside the truck kept hurrying me and yelling at me. When I realized I did not have enough strength to take both canisters at once, I left one of the aside, and tried to move them/ push them one at a time. Needless to say, I got very nauseated again and I had to leave the canisters on the ground for a moment. I stepped back for a bit trying to gather my strength and catch my breath and I immediately felt all the wrath of the women soldiers falling upon me in all its might. As I stood a bit aside, leaning against a fence and trying to breathe profoundly to ease the impeding sensation I was either about to faint or throw up, an extremely angry woman soldier approached me, showing no mercy towards my miserable condition. As the came nearer and nearer to me, she started yelling in my face and threatening me with her weapon, telling me to pick up the 2 canisters and move away from there faster. I told her I felt sick and that I did not have enough strength to pick up and carry both canister at the same time and, as a response, I received a torrent of threats and curse words. The woman soldier started to violently push me towards my canisters, all the while shouting at me that if I don’t comply she will send me to prison right away and I will be left with no fuel for the rest of the month. Another major issue was that I did no speak Arabic very well, and the woman soldier did not understand (or pretended not to understand) what I was trying to tell her. For my part, I mostly understood / gathered from her body language what she was yelling at me (I got the general idea that something bad was about to happen to me if I don’t take my canister and go away in a hurry, but I did not understand all of her words). Alhamdulillah (n.n. Blessed be Allah and Glory to Him!) that, in that very instant, one of the Sisters from the camp passed by me and, seeing that I was having difficulties and facing hardships with the guard, she said something in Arabic to the woman soldier, took both my canisters and told me to walk away with her as fast as I could.
This memory still holds a heavy and impossible to erase imprint on my soul, and I will never be able to forget how afraid and ill I felt that day. The event still haunts me today. The only thing that gave me and keeps giving me comfort to this day is the thought that Allah had protected me once again, that He, in His Infinite Wisdom, sometimes places you in difficult situations to test you Faith in Him, while in other times, through His Grace and Mercy, takes away your hardships, you sickness and you pain, making you able to endure and carry on. Allah Almighty gives comfort to us all, as He Alone is the best and only Protector of the Faithful. Another thing that brought me comfort and a bit of joy was that, once again, the solidarity between us, Muslim Sisters, prevailed in the face the hatred and meanness of the others towards us. I felt that day, as well as in other days when I was facing difficult and troublesome situations inside the camp, that everyone, each and every Sister there was ready to help and lend a hand. In times of hardships, in times of lack, of scarcity, in times of need and fear we, the Muslim Sisters held captive in the camps of Syria were one, big, and united family, under the Mercy of Allah Almighty.
Asira