"Evil will prevail if good people do nothing"

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Long live free Syria

 

Lebanon: Syria’s Charcoal Boys
#syria #lebanon

(Source: youtube.com)

Second Chances

A Syrian refugee reflects on the struggle and shame of starting over. An aid worker totally relates.

(Source: tracks.unhcr.org)

Dreams, Interrupted.
As a poet, rapper and university student, Hany saw opportunity everywhere. But the conflict in Syria has put his future in doubt.
“If I am not a student, I am nothing.” Hany’s home is a wooden frame and plastic sheets. Thick carpets line the floor and long cushions serve as sofas. A wood stove offers warmth. A TV connected to satellite brings news from Syria.
He speaks smooth English, mastered from music videos and Dan Brown novels. He is 20 years old, and a refugee. Lost, in Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley. “I am wasting time here.”
Hany is missing out on his dreams. Knowing this is worse than learning his house was looted and burned, after he fled for his life. It’s worse than knowing his country is bleeding and scarred. He has lost his sense of future.
Before the war, Hany’s was a life taken for granted, lived in the moment. In a quiet district of Homs, in the house his dad built, he would stare at the tree outside his bedroom and write poems.
Hany was a rapper. He performed in a band at school with his friends, and dreamed of university. His future was bright.
Ashraf, his brother, was born on the day Syria’s conflict began. March 15, 2011. His family felt blessed. A new life, in a comfortable home, in a community full of friendship. 20 days later, the violence reached their neighborhood. The bombs fell, and their windows shook.
“For a year and a half we locked ourselves in,” Hany’s mother tells me. “We would squeeze into one room and sleep there, eat there.” When the shelling stopped, they ran, to see the doctor or buy supplies.

CONTINUE READING.

Dreams, Interrupted.

As a poet, rapper and university student, Hany saw opportunity everywhere. But the conflict in Syria has put his future in doubt.

“If I am not a student, I am nothing.” Hany’s home is a wooden frame and plastic sheets. Thick carpets line the floor and long cushions serve as sofas. A wood stove offers warmth. A TV connected to satellite brings news from Syria.

He speaks smooth English, mastered from music videos and Dan Brown novels. He is 20 years old, and a refugee. Lost, in Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley. “I am wasting time here.”

Hany is missing out on his dreams. Knowing this is worse than learning his house was looted and burned, after he fled for his life. It’s worse than knowing his country is bleeding and scarred. He has lost his sense of future.

Before the war, Hany’s was a life taken for granted, lived in the moment. In a quiet district of Homs, in the house his dad built, he would stare at the tree outside his bedroom and write poems.

Hany was a rapper. He performed in a band at school with his friends, and dreamed of university. His future was bright.

Ashraf, his brother, was born on the day Syria’s conflict began. March 15, 2011. His family felt blessed. A new life, in a comfortable home, in a community full of friendship. 20 days later, the violence reached their neighborhood. The bombs fell, and their windows shook.

“For a year and a half we locked ourselves in,” Hany’s mother tells me. “We would squeeze into one room and sleep there, eat there.” When the shelling stopped, they ran, to see the doctor or buy supplies.

CONTINUE READING.

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In a few words

In 1989, my parents left Beirut for a small village in the Bekaa Valley called Ghazzeh. I was eight years old. 

In 2012, Khalil’s mother left Syria and took refuge at our house in Ghazzeh. Khalil was ten years old. 

This film tells the story of my friendship with Khalil, and our efforts to find hope and joy in the midst of madness and despair. It is also a personal reflection on childhood, nostalgia, home, belonging, memory and war. 

'I was prepared to lose someone in my family, but not all of them'
by LOVEDAY MORRIS for the Independant
"Baba Amr has only two doors, one to death and one to freedom," reads Manar’s latest work, scrawled on a piece of paper in red and black marker pens and tacked to the wall opposite his hospital bed.

The doctors have been encouraging him to write poetry to help with the psychological trauma, but the 17-year-old Syrian is obviously far from coming to terms with what happened to him back in his home district in Homs.
"I can’t imagine the future," the teenager says, staring down at the empty space beneath the sheets where his right leg should be.
The 40 beds on the third floor of the Tripoli Governmental Hospital in Lebanon are now exclusively filled with Syrians injured in the conflict, earning it the nickname the Syrian Field Hospital. It is here that the ambulances bring the most seriously injured who arrive at the Lebanese border after risking their lives on perilous illegal crossings. The International Committee of the Red Cross said last week that it had stepped up operations in Lebanon after a significant increase in the number of seriously injured Syrians entering the country. More than 300 casualties have been evacuated so far this year, compared with 177 during the whole of 2011. From Free Syrian Army fighters to women and children, the stories of the patients in Tripoli have a familiar ring, but each one is heart-breaking.
Manar had run to help pull out the wounded after a mortar attack, when a Syrian soldier unleashed his machine gun. His right leg was so badly riddled with bullets it had to be amputated above the knee.
In the room next to Manar, 15-year-old Khaled lies paralysed after taking a bullet in the back. His grandparents have yet to break it to him that his injury is permanent. “I hope to be able to walk again, and for that dog Bashar to die,” he says.
"We’ll kick his ass for you," quips a 24-year-old Free Syrian Army officer in the next bed, who plans to be back fighting in a few weeks when the bullet wound to his hand heals.
Though they receive expert medical care while at the facility in Tripoli, the doctors worry for the future of their patients after they are discharged. There is little provision for long-term rehabilitation and they join the ranks of the 24,000 Syrian refugees in Lebanon who are struggling to survive with little government or international assistance. Fewer than half have been registered by the UN Refugee Agency and most rely on the kindness of communities, mosques and Islamic foundations to avoid sleeping on the streets.
For Dr Ahmed Abu Jawad, the connection to his patients runs deep. The Syrian has been working on the ward for 40 days, after fleeing a Baba Amr field hospital during the notorious month-long siege of the neighbourhood in Homs. When asked about the worst case he has seen, Dr Abu Jawad nods his head towards room 316. “Her story – it’s too hard,” he says.
Inside, 38-year-old Hasna brushes off her injuries. “I’ve lost my legs but it doesn’t bother me; it’s the other things I’ve lost that mean more.”
She describes how she and her family fled their village in provincial Homs when they heard the Syrian army was about to launch an offensive. They were returning home several days later when a tank shell hit their motorbike.
"My husband was driving, our three-year-old son between his legs and me on the back holding our one-year-old daughter," she says. "There was flying metal and dust and I saw my baby daughter’s head opened up in front of my eyes. I felt her last heart beat. I won’t forget that moment for as long as I live."
Her son had his leg blown off and also died at the scene, while her husband succumbed to his injuries during the journey to Lebanon. “I had prepared to lose someone in my family in the revolution – you steel yourself for it. But I had not prepared to lose them all,” she says.

'I was prepared to lose someone in my family, but not all of them'

by LOVEDAY MORRIS for the Independant

"Baba Amr has only two doors, one to death and one to freedom," reads Manar’s latest work, scrawled on a piece of paper in red and black marker pens and tacked to the wall opposite his hospital bed.

The doctors have been encouraging him to write poetry to help with the psychological trauma, but the 17-year-old Syrian is obviously far from coming to terms with what happened to him back in his home district in Homs.

"I can’t imagine the future," the teenager says, staring down at the empty space beneath the sheets where his right leg should be.

The 40 beds on the third floor of the Tripoli Governmental Hospital in Lebanon are now exclusively filled with Syrians injured in the conflict, earning it the nickname the Syrian Field Hospital. It is here that the ambulances bring the most seriously injured who arrive at the Lebanese border after risking their lives on perilous illegal crossings. The International Committee of the Red Cross said last week that it had stepped up operations in Lebanon after a significant increase in the number of seriously injured Syrians entering the country. More than 300 casualties have been evacuated so far this year, compared with 177 during the whole of 2011. From Free Syrian Army fighters to women and children, the stories of the patients in Tripoli have a familiar ring, but each one is heart-breaking.

Manar had run to help pull out the wounded after a mortar attack, when a Syrian soldier unleashed his machine gun. His right leg was so badly riddled with bullets it had to be amputated above the knee.

In the room next to Manar, 15-year-old Khaled lies paralysed after taking a bullet in the back. His grandparents have yet to break it to him that his injury is permanent. “I hope to be able to walk again, and for that dog Bashar to die,” he says.

"We’ll kick his ass for you," quips a 24-year-old Free Syrian Army officer in the next bed, who plans to be back fighting in a few weeks when the bullet wound to his hand heals.

Though they receive expert medical care while at the facility in Tripoli, the doctors worry for the future of their patients after they are discharged. There is little provision for long-term rehabilitation and they join the ranks of the 24,000 Syrian refugees in Lebanon who are struggling to survive with little government or international assistance. Fewer than half have been registered by the UN Refugee Agency and most rely on the kindness of communities, mosques and Islamic foundations to avoid sleeping on the streets.

For Dr Ahmed Abu Jawad, the connection to his patients runs deep. The Syrian has been working on the ward for 40 days, after fleeing a Baba Amr field hospital during the notorious month-long siege of the neighbourhood in Homs. When asked about the worst case he has seen, Dr Abu Jawad nods his head towards room 316. “Her story – it’s too hard,” he says.

Inside, 38-year-old Hasna brushes off her injuries. “I’ve lost my legs but it doesn’t bother me; it’s the other things I’ve lost that mean more.”

She describes how she and her family fled their village in provincial Homs when they heard the Syrian army was about to launch an offensive. They were returning home several days later when a tank shell hit their motorbike.

"My husband was driving, our three-year-old son between his legs and me on the back holding our one-year-old daughter," she says. "There was flying metal and dust and I saw my baby daughter’s head opened up in front of my eyes. I felt her last heart beat. I won’t forget that moment for as long as I live."

Her son had his leg blown off and also died at the scene, while her husband succumbed to his injuries during the journey to Lebanon. “I had prepared to lose someone in my family in the revolution – you steel yourself for it. But I had not prepared to lose them all,” she says.

Honoring the Syrian revolution anniversary today! our fight has been going on for a year and will go on until we topple the murderous regime of Assad! 
Syrians need your help now more than ever!! we have a humanitarian crisis in Syria and neighboring countries, we need your help to fund raise for our orphaned children, widowed wives and raped girls! 
Spread the world, we fight for a cause, and its our dignity and life as humans. 

Honoring the Syrian revolution anniversary today! our fight has been going on for a year and will go on until we topple the murderous regime of Assad! 

Syrians need your help now more than ever!! we have a humanitarian crisis in Syria and neighboring countries, we need your help to fund raise for our orphaned children, widowed wives and raped girls! 

Spread the world, we fight for a cause, and its our dignity and life as humans. 

Summary on the massacre that took place in Karm Al Zaytoun in Homs

Via Mulham Al Jundi

quick summery for what happen in #KarmAlZyton #Homs last night 
There are approximately 3000 families that are accounted for
In Al-Adawiya neighborhood, there are houses that continue to burn while people are still inside of them
Only 20% of the residents of Karam al-Zaytoun are still there, and we know nothing of what their situation is like
Karam al-Zaytoun and the neighboring al-Rifai neighborhood used to be the places people fled to
Many women were raped there yesterday, and many women are missing until now
There are houses on Al-Adawi Mosque Road whose residents were shot dead
Civilians are being executed
Their houses were burned while they were still inside of them and after they were doused in gasoline and fuel
Around 45 martyrs have been accounted for so far
and dont forget to take a look at the children who were slaughtered by #Assad regime . #KarmElZytoneh #Homs 3-12-12
https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.202396453199859.36357.100002885184142&type=3

Every frame is a story, this is Homs. Destruction from the heavy artillery shelling on civilian houses caught on camera by Mulham Al Jundi.

هيئة الهلال الأحمر تبدأ اليوم السبت حملة جمع التبرعات من 8 مساءا حتى منتصف الليل عبر وسائل الإعلام بالدولة (تلفزيون أبوظبي الإمارات) للنازحين من أبناء الشعب السوري الشقيق في الأردن ولبنان

هيئة الهلال الأحمر تبدأ اليوم السبت ولمدة ثلاثة أيام حملة جمع التبرعات من 8 مساءا حتى منتصف الليل عبر وسائل الإعلام بالدولة (تلفزيون أبوظبي الإمارات) للنازحين من أبناء الشعب السوري الشقيق في الأردن ولبنان 

اتصالات 
10 درهم- 6881
50 درهم- 6885
100درهم- 4611
200درهم- 5200 
 دو
10درهم - 7110
50درهم - 7150
100درهم- 7100
200درهم- 7200
فقط أرسل رسالة فارغة للأرقام السابقة

EXTREMELY GRAPHIC! not suitable for weak hearts! 

kids hit by heavy arms in Homs today! only Alah is with us because humanity is failing us! 

جرحى من الأطفل شكر للفيتو الروسي باباعمرو

حسبي الله و نعم الوكيل!!! 

(Source: youtube.com)

مشاهداتي في سوريا د. محمد العريفي 19-2-1433هـ

A friday prayer lecture by Muhamad Al Arifi, telling stories of people he met who ran away from syria, torture, rape and killing stories. 

(Source: youtube.com)