I once had a hectic lifestyle like everyone else, I’ve never had just one job, always a combination of different jobs, mainly because I have a short attention spam and get bored easily and secondly because there are so many things I like and want to experience. To top it all off, I have so many causes I care about, and hence volunteer with so many organizations. I can never decided which single cause I care about the most and will work on at the expense of others. I mean I love to work with the kids in my area, the Palestine groups are close to my heart, while the Islamphobia groups is even closer to home. Then I had two jobs to pay for me, uni and send money to my family back home. So that was the necessity.
Anyway I took a year off after I graduated from my degree and worked like a workaholic, I dived head first into everything and anything that I remotely cared about, I did documentaries, events up down the country, training programs, e-journals, several websites and much more. I slept for four hours and the rest of the time I was buzzing. Everything was going well. Then I burnt out, all of sudden I did not want to do anything, I quit my jobs, and stuck to just volunteering for a two month, soon enough I did not want to do that either, I felt disillusioned, it seemed pointless, I never getting anywhere, the Somali kids were still on the streets, Palestinians were stilling dying and their situation only seemed to get worse, the war in Iraq still happened, Islamphobia was on the rise, (the British national party was winning more seats in parliament) So what is the point I thought.
One Saturday, I was sitting in front of my computer at 1am, my hands just started to move and before I knew it I booked a one way ticket to Syria, leaving the next day at 1pm. I started packing, I had no idea how long I was going for, so I did not even bother packing much. Just the essentials, and a tooth brush, a towel, two scarf’s, one Caabayah, two tops, two pair shoes, one pair of jeans, one black trousers and few other things. I had to be at the airport by 11am. At 9.30am I came down the stairs with my small suit case. I met my brother at the top of the stair-case, he looked at me funny, and followed me down stairs, my edo was in the living room, “where are you going” she said, looking surprised. I went to her, I sat by her feet, then I said “edo I need to get away, I booked a flight to Syria, I need a break” then I started to cry, I don’t know why I just did, I felt tired and drained, I felt small and hopeless. My brother must have run out of the room, because when I finally stopped, it was just me and edo. I hugged her, she walked me to the train station, my brother too, I said my good byes, read my dua’s and I was off. I knew my edo was upset and unhappy about me traveling as women and alone and so suddenly, but she saw how upset and down I had recently been, I knew she wanted to say No, but did not have the heart to put her foot down. Maybe she thought if she says No, I will never go back to my old self. She joked that maybe when I come back, I will be smiling again.
As I sat on the train in dawned on me that I booked no hotel, I did not get a visa, nor have I ever left the UK before. Suddenly I was panicking. Then I felt guilty, I knew no one in Syria, I had no Mahrum, was it safe, was it wise, this is crazy I thought. Before long I was getting off the train and following the signs to the airport, I got a bit lost, finally I checked in.
Syrian airline is the ride of suicide, looking out of the window, I could see scratches and dents on the plane. This is a bad idea I though… a really bad idea, what if I die in this state, I will go to hell..?. Then I heard the kids, and families chatting away, strangely it had a claming effect on me. I text an old friend who lived in Jordan and said I’m heading to Syria, if your around I’ll dropping by to see you, my friend was more than happy.
The rest of the people on the flight were Arab, I saw a blond guy sitting alone looking confused (everyone was chatting in Arabic) and slightly uncomfortable. I went and sat next to him and started to chat to him. He was an America overseas student, heading to Syria to study Arabic. As we chatted I felt life creeping back into me… I felt anticipation, I was starting to feel excited for the first time, and I smiled at him. This is going to be okay I thought, just before the plane started to take off, and my heart and stomach dropped to my feet while it took off. I felt sick for few seconds.
……..It took me almost six months to find my way home for good, back to London, only to find it that I no longer thought of it as home. I found so many homes, I will tell you another day, how and where I spent that time. When I came back…that is also a different story for a different night.
