The book of Dreams

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 1 𝖠 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 Syria and its people have endured for centuries. As a society, it forged its own identity so it could shine across the world. It is a land of astounding beauty, where inhabitants have grown and nourished their culture and traditions over thousands of years, making this place a home to a rich and diverse society. Syria is overflowing with archaeological treasures. Damascus and Aleppo are amongst the oldest cities in the world. For Syrians, preserving their architectural masterpieces has been an important part of their heritage for many years. For these men and women, now displaced, the simple memory of their country’s grandeur takes them back there, to their home, to Syria. What child does not dream of a home? For the children who tell their stories in this chapter, it is sometimes nothing more than a distant memory. Yet, they continue to dream of a home, a home that would finally mean a better future could begin to take shape. A refuge where they could shelter from the violence, cold and pain that they deal with day in, day out. These children have lost everything that we take for granted each night when we go to sleep. The only things that we could never take away from them, which they will never let go of, are their dreams and hope.

𝐈 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲 Rasha, 12 years old. She is Syrian. She now lives in Turkey. People say that Syria used to be a magnificent country, but today everything has been destroyed and that makes me so sad. I know that if I go back, it will all be different. We live here, in Turkey. We are trying to be happy. I go to school like the other children. Most of the time, us Syrian girls stick together. The Turkish girls don’t really like mingling with us… Sometimes, the teacher asks us questions about our home country. One day, he asked me what I missed most. - Syria, I answered simply. When we live in a country that isn’t ours, we never really feel at home. I’ll tell you what children want. They want rights! First, the right to go to school and to speak their own language. Then, the right to stay in their country. What is happening in Syria should never happen. Children have rights. They have the right to play, to study and to be happy. They should never be sad. There are three things that I want more than anything else. First, for my parents and sisters to be safe and sound. Second, to make the pilgrimage to Mecca. And third, to see Syria again. I’ll go back one day, for sure…

Getting married is not a duty Selma, 24 years old. She is from Syria. She now lives in Jordan. My name is Selma. I am twenty-four years old, but as a mother, widow and divorcee, I sometimes feel like I’m forty or fifty… Many years ago, when I was just a child, I went to school with the goal of one day becoming a pharmacist. My parents supported me at the time. But when I turned fourteen, they decided it was time for me to find a husband. For over a year, I begged them not to force me to get married. I even considered marrying a nice boy from the village to escape it all. I fell pregnant just before the war began and I lost my husband shortly after. Feeling I was carrying part of his soul inside me during those dark, bleak times was a very strange sensation. At seven months pregnant, my parents decided to leave Syria to go to Jordan. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay in Syria, where my husband was buried, but after much insistence, my parents managed to convince me to go to Jordan with them. The birth of my son was a wonderful moment for me, full of hope. I enjoyed the most beautiful eighteen months with him by my side, but then one day, my parents decided it was time for me to get married again. My new husband was forty-two years old, I was only twenty. The eight months we spent together were torturous. I ended up divorcing him and returning to my parents’ house. Life here is not easy. In my culture, being a divorced woman is a punishment. We are not allowed to go out, wear nice clothes or even work. I dream of a world where women have the same rights as men. The right to make our own decisions and to achieve our own goals. After all, no one should be forced to get married…

🅘 🅓🅡🅔🅐🅜 🅞🅕 🅞🅤🅡 🅗🅞🅤🅢🅔 Enas, 11 years old. She is from Aleppo, Syria. She now lives in Turkey. I remember our house in Syria. I remember every room. I was only five when we left our country to come and live here, in Turkey. But I remember our home in Aleppo perfectly. One day, I’ll go back. My name is Enas, I am eleven years old and I have five sisters. We left because our father was afraid for us, for our safety, but it’s no better here. I remember our house in Syria, with its big courtyard, four bedrooms, and the school just a few streets away. One day, I’ll go back. I miss my auntie. I miss her a lot. Just like I miss my bedroom and the swing dad built for us. Here, I go to school but I don’t enjoy it. I try, I study, but I don’t enjoy it. This is not my home. This is not Aleppo. Syria is my country, it is where I was born. One day, for sure, I’ll go back.

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 2 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 Every journey has its own story. From the first step, the traveller is no longer the same. The paths he takes reveal the choices he makes. However, for the children sharing their stories in this book, few of those choices are made freely. At the heart of young Syrian people’s dreams, there is an inexhaustible need for education. For this generation, whose everyday lives are peppered with injustices, their studies and their memories of happier times are the two reasons why they still nurture hope. The first text illustrates this perfectly. All Yahya has left from when he went to school is a photo, which he treasures dearly. Some have managed to save a few broken toys and damaged books from the rubble of their homes. Others have simply lost everything. The ones who tell us their stories here don’t even celebrate their birthdays anymore. Yet, at the centre of their difficult lives, a hope for better days endures. While surviving is their priority, studying also matters a lot to them. They know that it holds the possibility of returning to Syria one day to build a future for them and their family. Education is the key to their future.

𝘼 𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙩𝙤 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙚 Yahya is 13 years old. He is from Syria. He now lives in Jordan. It’s a photo of me that was taken during my enrolment in school. It is very important to me. I was in my first year, my very first week of classes, when I was forced to leave the country. Of course, I have a few memories. Some good, some not so good. For example, I remember my school, which was so beautiful to me, the friends I made and our football matches in the playground. I also remember the war, the bombings and the journey we had to make to get here. Those are bad memories that I’d rather forget… We left Syria in the middle of the night. It was so dark that we could hardly see the road in front of us. We crossed valleys, walking through thorny bramble bushes. People left everything they had behind, so they wouldn’t be weighed down on their journey. As for me, I had to leave behind

my schoolbooks, my pens and crayons. Mum said we would be back home soon enough, but we have been here for six years now. I treasure this photo dearly because it is a part of my childhood. When I look at it, it makes me smile, it reminds me of how happy I was when I was little. I was barely six years old. Now, what I want most of all, is to return to Syria, to see my house and my school again. I hope with all my heart that Syria will be safe again one day.

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 Hameda, 17 years old. She is from Syria. She now lives in Jordan. My name is Hameda. My family and I left Syria because of the war. Now, we live in a temporary camp in Jordan. My days pass by and blur into one another. We wake up early, my father brings us water while my mother goes to receive treatment. I leave the house around midday to go to class. After that, I spend some time with my friends. Then everyone goes back to their own houses. Some girls can’t go out because of the guys hanging around the streets who harass them. It drives me crazy that nobody does anything to stop them! My friends and I only want one thing: to be able to keep studying. I know that the situation is complicated but my dream would be to finish my studies and have a chance of a better future…

𝙎𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙨 Safa, 10 years old. She is from Aleppo, Syria. She now lives in Jordan. My name is Safa and I’m from Aleppo. I am ten years old and I have spent more than half of my life as a refugee. When the war broke out, my family and I took refuge in the countryside. We thought that we would be safe there. One day, when I was playing outside, a shell fell near me and I was seriously injured. Despite all their efforts, the doctors were unable to save my leg. Three months later, we left for Jordan. In the refugee camp, they gave me a wheelchair. We didn’t stay for very long. We went back to Amman, the capital of Jordan, so that dad could find work. But life in the city was far too expensive, so we had to leave Amman to go to the Azraq refugee camp. I get up at 7 every morning. School doesn’t start until 8, but because of my prosthetic leg, I need a lot more time to get there. If I had a magic lamp, I would make three wishes: First, I would ask for a real bed because my mattress isn’t comfortable at all. My next wish would be to be able to ride a bike. Lastly, I would ask for a new prosthetic leg, one that is prettier, more comfortable, and in better condition than mine. P.S. After hearing my three wishes, some youngsters from the camp built a real bed for me. They are taking a professional training course run by UNICEF and funded by the European Union.

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 3 𝘾𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 We may believe that Syrian children no longer dream. Their everyday lives are constantly affected by suffering and inequality. We may believe that their dreams have vanished because of this existence imposed upon them. In reality, it is the complete opposite. When most of a child’s life has been torn away from them, hope is all that remains for him or her to have faith in better days. These children make sure that their dreams remain very much alive, even if they are afraid that they may never come true. Those who tell their stories here have the immense courage to never give up. They could have thrown in the towel many, many times. You require great strength and character to continue to hope when everything is falling apart around you. As you will notice when reading these texts, it sometimes takes very little for these children to feel they can cling to their dreams. A word, a piece of clothing, a song…

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 Khadija, 12 years old. She is from Idlib, Syria. She now lives in Lebanon. I left Syria in 2012. When we arrived in Beirut, in Lebanon, my parents had trouble finding a place for me in a school. The only places left were in schools that were too expensive for us. During my first year in Lebanon, I was stuck at home with my mum. I helped her with the household chores. Neither of us were happy. She was afraid that I would be too far behind the other children and that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with classes. Fortunately, one day, a place became available and I could finally go to school. I know that I am lucky to be able to study. I have a neighbour whose parents refuse to let her go out. They are afraid

something will happen to her. It makes me sad, I don’t think it’s fair on her. Her father and mother should know that no place is safer than a school. As for me, I want to be able to study to become a doctor in Idlib. As long as I’m allowed to keep going to school here, I know that my dream can come true one day. When I’m older and have children, I won’t let them miss a single day of school. I will tell them that school is the place where dreams come true.

𝙄 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙚 Bodoor, 17 years old. She is from Syria. She now lives in Jordan. When I arrived at Azraq camp with my two sisters and my three brothers, I sat on the steps of our caravan and looked up at the sky. For the first time in my life, I saw the stars shining in the night. There were so many stars that I felt like I was looking at the whole galaxy! It was so beautiful that I decided to learn everything I could about constellations and the Milky Way and become an astronomer when I’m older. The stars make me happy and calm, they chase away the sadness that I sometimes feel inside. When I look up at the starry night sky, it is as if I am escaping from Earth. The problem for girls my age is that our parents want to marry us off before we can finish our studies. Some people think that girls don’t need to study. That all they are good for is staying at home and looking after their husband. Obviously, these people are wrong. The more educated we are, the more useful we will be to society! Perhaps one day, when I am an astronomer or astronaut, I will discover more planets and even more galaxies. My name means “full moon”, so I will be the first Syrian woman to set foot on the moon. I will look over at Earth from afar. If I am lucky enough to have my dreams come true, I will study hard so that I can work for NASA one day. They say that nothing is impossible if we believe it in enough. But I also know that I will need help if I don’t want my dreams to become locked away forever in this camp.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 4 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫 The most precious dreams belong to those who dream of a better future, for themselves and for their fellow human beings. Some children nurture dreams like these. Children who, thanks to their education, fight for their rights and stay hopeful through thick and thin. Reading these texts, you will realise just how strong and brave the children sharing their stories here are. When the Syrian conflict began, a large part of the world took action, including the European Union and UNICEF, who were among the first. They tackled the task of responding to Syrian children’s needs. Year after year, they helped to preserve the determination, dignity and strength of the Syrian people.

𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 Marah, 14 years old. She is from Syria. She now lives in Lebanon. When I arrived in Lebanon just after leaving Syria, I wasn’t able to enrol in a school right away. I missed an entire year, which was really annoying, because I love studying! In the end, everything worked out - I was able to go back to school - and I finally found my smile again. All girls should know how important it is to go to school. When I was able to go back to my studies, my life changed. In the beginning, my father thought that a thirteen-year-old girl’s place was in the home. Of course, I didn’t agree at all. Every day, I saw my friends going to school while I stayed at home. I felt increasingly sad and desperate, so my mother explained to my father that it really was vital for me to be able to attend classes. She managed to convince him and I was finally able to enrol in a school. My mother sleeps much better knowing that I have the possibility to pursue my studies. Now, I am happy to have the opportunity to study and, one day, who knows, to be able to achieve my dreams.

𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 Abdulaziz, 20 years old. He is from Syria. He now lives in Jordan. When I was younger, my only thought was to make the most of life. Then, at nineteen years of age, my parents forced me to get married, just so there could be someone else to help with the household chores. They don’t realise the destructive impact this had on my life. I decided to go to Turkey to find work and send money to my parents, my wife and my baby. Unfortunately, I did not manage to cross the border. I now live in a refugee camp in Jordan. Despite the tragedies I have experienced, I continue to dream of being able to return to my country one day so that my family can be reunited once more.

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 Dunya, 13 years old. She is from Syria. She now lives in Turkey. We left Syria when I was eight. It had become too dangerous and we began to run out of food. I try my best to be happy here in Turkey. I go to school so that I can become an engineer when I return to my country. Music was one of the things I missed most. So when I heard about this project that was teaching Syrian, Lebanese and Turkish children traditional songs from their country, I was really happy to be able to take part. My parents also thought it was an amazing idea. I even learned a song they used to sing as children in Syria! It is called “Fee I’nna Shajra” (We have a tree). We love singing it all together

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 5 𝐆𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 Few people know the real value of a home until they are forced to leave it. When we leave our home behind, it is often a choice and we know that we can go back at any time. The children who tell their stories in this book have had to leave without turning back. Families have been broken, communities destroyed and societies, often centuries old, have been wiped off the map overnight. All Syrian children dream of going home one day. What will they find there? Over time, cities can be rebuilt, roads repaved and communities reformed. The last stage in their journey, the one that will lead them to peace, may require the most strength. The young people of Syria are preparing for this journey with courage and conviction. These children’s biggest hopes and most powerful dreams are focused on the same goal: to return to a country at peace, where their rights will finally be respected.

𝘼𝙮𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙨 𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 Ayman, 10 years old. He is from Aleppo, Syria. He now lives in Jordan. As I arrived in Jordan when I was seven, I no longer have many memories of my house, of the town or country I lived in before. My dad and mum sometimes talk to me about Syria. They tell me that it is a magnificent place with rivers and farms everywhere you look. When I listen to them, I think it must be a beautiful place. Although I hardly remember anything, I still miss my country deep down. My greatest dream would be to return to Syria, to rebuild everything and live happily, like before.

........𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲...... We all hope that, one day, Syrian children will feel at home once again. In Syria or elsewhere, those who have shared their stories in this book will relentlessly pursue their dreams, because it is the young people of today who carry the promise of a better future and a world at peace. At night, we look up at the sky – each star holds the dream of a child, the dream of finally being able to live happily and in safety.

𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨𝕟 Laila is from Syria. She now lives in Jordan. Do you know who I am? I am a girl who was forced to leave her country at thirteen years of age. I didn’t know what the future had in store for me, but I doubted that it would be anything nice… When my mum talked to me about going to school, I refused. I was too afraid. Afraid of the unknown. Afraid of not succeeding. And then, I finally agreed to go. At first, I hated it. My mum encouraged me a lot and after a while I made friends and began to enjoy myself. But it didn’t last long…I had to change schools and that was horrible! The turning point in my life was when I met a Syrian teacher. Thanks to him, I understood that I had to go to school not only to get a degree, but also to build a future. That was also when I started attending workshops about the importance of education for girls.

I bet that you are wondering why I haven’t mentioned my father. Don’t start thinking he doesn’t support me or believe in me. The reason I haven’t mentioned him is because the war took him from me before he could help me build my own future. I stayed at school but I did not pass my final exam. But don’t think I’ll give up. That would be underestimating me. Even when things haven’t gone our way, it doesn’t mean we should give up. To build a better future, we need strong and independent young people, young people who are driven, young people who think for themselves. I will never give up. One day, I will return to my country and I will rebuild it.

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙮 𝙄 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙢𝙮 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 Rahaf, 15 years old. She is from Syria. She now lives in Lebanon. When leaving Syria, I had to abandon my education. When I arrived in Lebanon, as a girl and a refugee, I did not think that continuing my studies was a priority. What I didn’t know before that was that I have rights! I had the opportunity to enrol in a programme run by the European Union and UNICEF related to gender-based violence. Once I graduated, I wanted to share my experience and knowledge with Lebanese and Syrian children. Within at-risk communities, where children frequently experience violence, protecting youngsters is of the utmost important. Through this programme, the most vulnerable people find a place where they can feel safe. They understand that they have the right to dignity and they learn how to protect themselves and find safety when faced with a dangerous situation. Adolescence is not an easy time. It is when we begin understanding who we are and what we want. By being given the chance to take part in this programme and then share what we have learned, the fight against gender-based violence can continue in the long term. By the end of the training programme, all the children are more independent thanks to the knowledge and skills they have acquired.