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All these refugee stories are true and written in their own words (names have been changed).
Imagine you once lived a middle-class life, took vacations, and had a regular job. Life was good. You were happy.
Then violence began. Everything you once had is now gone. You're forced to leave because it's not safe anymore.
My favorite memories of my father are when he used to play with us. He used to take us to pools and to my grandparents’ house and to the orchards. Our house and my friends [were the most beautiful things about Syria].
My life was good. I was happy.
Some of them killed the children and ripped their fingernails off.
I WAS AFRAID FOR ALL OF OUR LIVES. I FELT FEAR. HORROR.
Then my dad was kidnapped. They ran over him and then they shot him and then burned him.
We left Syria. I was wearing blue jeans and a pink shirt. I didn’t take anything with me other than my clothes, my watch and my photo album. I’ve got them with me.
A lot [is different here]! There, we had a home. Here, we have part of a tent. It’s not a life here.
It’s a bit better here than Syria. There’s no bombing, there’s no rockets or shooting, but there’s nothing here.
MY NAME IS SARA. I AM A REFUGEE.
We used to have a big house and my uncle lived on the second floor and my cousin Khalil bought the bike one day, and I bought my bike the second day.
After that, we started playing on our bikes. I only got to enjoy it for one day.
The family was divided.
Half of our family went to Jordan and then the other half came here to Lebanon.
My home back in Syria is better. Here, it’s unfinished and it’s broken.
Back in Syria it was beautiful…I’ve forgotten my bicycle. I’ve forgotten all my toys. I’ve forgotten my computer.
