Assalamu aleykum wa rahamtullahi wa barakatu sisters!
All my stories tell about the way in which women and children live inside the refugee camps in Syria.
But today I want to talk about the way in which these women and children live after they finally manage to leave the camp and return to the „normal” world.
When you are in an enclosed space for a very long time, your brain tends to „atrophy” to a certain extent or in a certain way. While inside the camp, all your survival instincts intensify and reach a peak, you are always on alert and you become afraid to relax even for a little bit. While I was inside the camp, I would constantly be prepared and expected something bad to happen. All of us there were permanently terrified by the soldiers, and afraid something unexpected might happen like a flood, a fire or a natural disaster of some sort.
After you get out of the camp and start living again „in the big world out there”, your brain tries to rewire and adapt to your new life. For example, it takes a long time to the get used again to the fact that you do not have to be afraid to walk around holding your mobile phone in your hand, in plain sights. For a long time you sense fear and mistrust whenever you see someone in uniform, feeling the distinct sensation that these people in uniform might arrest, detain and ultimately hurt you, even though you know very well you have done nothing wrong.
Another major issue is that, after you get out, you practically have no ID papers. This means you have to undergo a long and exhausting bureaucratic process to recover your own identity, practically. And if your children were not born in the country to which you returned, but they were born in Syria, you have to go to court and face a trial to give them, as well, an identity. This entire process costs money and is utterly nerve wrecking. The trials can go on for years, and during that time, your children will not have any proper documents.
It is extremely difficult to return to a regular and well-balanced life. You can walk around the new city or town in which you decided to settle and you feel as if you are a ghost. Your brain seems unable to process this new environment, everything feels strange and you feel unwell and eerie most of the times. It seems to you that there are way too many people on the street, too many strangers, and you fear them.
The rehabilitation process is also very difficult. Trying to restore your health is hard. You start to go from one hospital to another. You take blood tests, you undergo different investigations. Sometimes, the doctors cannot fully explain what is wrong with your body.
The children also can have a hard time readjusting to life outside the camp. If they are smaller / younger, it is easier for them to adapt to their new lives. But if they are older, then everything gets more complicated and this new-found freedom feels uneasy to handle.
I cannot stress enough that it is extremely complicated to simply return to „a normal life” after spending several years inside the camp. You no longer know where to seek and get support, you no longer trust strangers, you can no longer find your „anchors” and keep yourself from spiraling. You feel that there are so many things that have to be done, so many responsibilities. You have to find a house, a job, and material means to support yourself and your children. Most of the times, you no longer have a husband by your side.
I, myself, have experienced many of these feelings after I have returned from the camp in Syria, resettled and started my life anew. For a long time, whenever I was outside, on the street, and I took my phone out, my mind would warn me that I had to hide it because it could be confiscated and take away from me. After a while, I would try and comfort myself, by telling and repeating to myself that I am safe now. Moreover, whenever I saw a police car or policemen patrolling, I would suddenly get a panic attack and freeze. Already 4 years have passed since I left the camp and still there are instances when I start to shake uncontrollably if I see a policeman starting to walk in my direction or if I hear a police siren nearby. Even though I am well aware that I have done nothing wrong and have nothing to fear, this anxiety I get still stays with me and refuses to disappear.
At night, I often dream I am still inside the camp and that I am trapped there forever and cannot escape and be free. I wake up covered in sweat and with cold shivers running down my spine.
The life I lead inside the camp has left me with many traumas unfortunately. Even today, after all these years, I am still afraid to leave my children alone to play outside. I am afraid to let them walk alone on the street or to cross the street by themselves. I am even still afraid of cars.
I only wish that Allah Almighty free all those that are still there, trapped inside those camps, to make their lives easier, to protect them from harm and keep them safe from all evil.
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