Chapter 1: Life Got Flipped-Turned Upside Down
One man’s terrorist is another’s freedom fighter. In times of conflict the focus is placed on us, and we can’t think about them. Unfortunately, even though Islam, “the religion of peace” teaches people to love their neighbors and treat their community well, after Daesh seized large parts of Aleppo last year everything went to shit. My father, Aariz al-Assad had a good career as the overseer for Aleppo’s recreation department. He’s a tall, big man who walks with long strides and his head up. I wouldn’t consider him to be fat, more bear-like, nothing is too heavy for him. He took pride in his work, managing an entire division of Syria’s biggest city is no easy task. But after Daesh took control of Damascus, Syria’s capital city, the government cut wages to Aleppo because a large portion of salaries were being taxed by Daesh. We used to live a comfortable life, my oldest sister who was 20, Rasha, was in her second year studying engineering at the University of Aleppo, there’s me, Amir, who was finishing my twelfth year in school, hoping to study medicine at the University of Aleppo next year. Everybody said I looked just like Baba, tall and pretty big. My younger sister Mira is in her tenth year in school. After Mira finished her first term of secondary school my mother got a job as a law clerk, although she was able to practice law in Syria she wanted to be able to leave her work at work and spend more time with our family. Things had been going good, Baba bought Rasha a new American-made Ford Taurus for getting through her first year in university, everybody was happy. Nobody in Aleppo was prepared for what happened almost overnight.
In early October of 2015 news reports flooded every media outlet in Aleppo that the threat of Daesh making an appearance was to be considered as more than a simple threat. Within a few days of the news reports the first gunshots were heard coming from the city’s outskirts. I remember Baba coming home one day sweating through his shirt. He told everyone how all the parks within eyesight of the mountains that stretch across the horizon were evacuated. It wasn’t a temporary move either; anything not bolted down andq1 worth its weight in salt was to be moved away. After the initial buzzing things stagnated for about a week before all hell broke loose. Daesh forces teamed up with rebel groups and took over major roads leading in and out of Aleppo. Assad’s government forces tried their best but Daesh and the rebel groups were armed as well as Assad. On the 24th of October, Rasha had been driving to pick up one of her friends when Daesh detonated a car bomb near an Assad checkpoint on a highway connecting Aleppo to Syria’s fourth biggest city, Hama. Eight soldiers and nine civilians were killed in the blast, including Rasha. She hadn’t been close enough to the bomb to be hit by shrapnel or anything, instead the shockwave from the blast killed her instantly. Baba took the loss the worst out of all of us. He had been so proud of Rasha for studying engineering, he flaunted to all our family, our friends, anybody who’d give him a chance. Although he’d never admit it, Baba had a soft spot for Rasha and he’d do anything to make sure she was ok. I remember him getting into arguments with Mama about being overly protective of Rasha when she was 15, whenever she wanted to go anywhere he’d need to know where she’s going, who she’s going with, will there be parental supervision, photocopies of her friend’s birth certificates, everything. After her funeral he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to take time off from work because of all the chaos going on but the decision was made for him.

Chapter 2: Unintended Victims
	Fast forward to now; it’s March 20, 2016 and life has become complete shit. Daesh has seized all of Aleppo, driving all Assad forces away and implementing their own version Sharia Law. Though nobody in our house ever held strong religious beliefs all of a sudden we were forced to become strict Sunni Muslims or be penalized with death. Every week for the past four months there’s been public courts where anybody accused of blasphemy against Islam, breaking Sharia Law in the slightest way, or even petty criminals were given lashes in front of angry audiences hurling insults and hate in their faces. Half a year ago this violent group of people who were willing to support such savage punishments were silent, perhaps the constant propaganda from Daesh got them. That hasn’t been the only thing that’s changed, while I’ve been allowed to continue school Mira was told that she needs to instead take care of the house and cook for the men. Mama was told almost the same, the only exception was that she had the option to continue working the same job for the same amount of time for 1/4 of the pay. Although we all knew that the money would be nice, her continuing to work under those rules would only be giving in the bullshit that Daesh wants. As stubborn as she is, Mama is also one of the most level-headed people I know. How she managed to be told straight to her face that because she was a woman her life was less valuable than a man’s I’ll never understand. In Sharia court, two women’s statements are equal to one man’s, everything is based off of barbaric traditions from hundreds of years ago.
The once clean, bustling streets of Aleppo are now hushed and filled with garbage. In the winter the smell wasn’t as bad but already, even in March, the black garbage bags lining the sidewalks smell disgusting. If I ever fell into a pile of garbage bags I don’t think I’d get up, I’m not sure what would be worse, the smell, the diseases I’d get, or just the embarrassment from falling into the piles of rotten shit. It’s a double-whammy, if we don’t give any extra money we’ll live in shit-filled streets for as long as Daesh is here, but if we give extra money to help clean the shit on the streets most of it would go right to the Band-Aids keeping Daesh’s raft above water. Sometimes I wonder if Daesh are smart enough to be doing this on purpose, but then I remember they cut off someone’s hands for stealing a watermelon last week.
Chapter 3: Rise of Plebeians
Today it’s March 27, 2016. For the past week there’s been nothing said about any conflict on the Daesh news network –the only one broadcasted in Aleppo, but for the few that have satellite television we found out that Daesh has been fighting against Assad a lot over this past week. The small rebel groups that originally fought alongside Daesh in taking over Aleppo from Assad have cut ties and left Daesh alone. It hasn’t been too hard to tell that there’s been fighting going on, every once in a while there will be bursts of gunfire in the distance that continue for about twenty minutes. From our two-storey suburban house we can’t see anything, but I’m sure some of the high-rise condos downtown can see every little thing. Ignorance is bliss.
Towards the end of the day Baba and I went over to where we heard the most gunshots in hopes of finding something we can sell. Normally we can get a few dollars from empty bullet casings and if we manage to find anything bigger it’s just a cherry on top. One time we managed to find a discarded machine gun barrel and a pistol just sitting in the middle of a collapsed house. We used to go scavenging during the early morning but we heard stories of people getting held up and shot for what they’ve picked up. A lot of the people in it for the long run started going at dusk, less people have had a chance to come through and find things and a lot of the morning collectors are tired after a long day at work if they’re lucky enough to have a steady job. The thing to be afraid of isn’t stepping on a nail or being cut by glass, its other people. Even with the smaller amount of people out at night time if either I or Baba see an unfamiliar face we stick close together and keep our ears open.
	After the government cut wages paid to Aleppo a lot of government workers flocked for any work they could do. It reminded me of a picture of the Great Depression in America that I saw in a textbook where hundreds of people crowded outside the gates to a factory hoping to get picked to work that day. One of the things that’s been keeping me sane over the last few months though is music. If anybody from Daesh heard me listen to this American music they’d probably hang me. It’s a little ironic that in spite of this my favourite line is from an old Biggie Smalls song that goes like this: “You're nobody till somebody kills you”. What really gets me is that the Yankees know that people will give a shit whereas here if you die you’re just another statistic, just like that. But it’s strange in a way, I used to think that it was crazy when the rappers sang about being stuck in a cycle of poverty, not being able to put food on the table, and being forced to sell drugs just to survive, I couldn’t help but think “Just focus on school, that’s how you make your life better.” But I feel like I’m on the same level as them and I realized how naïve I really was, it’s hard to focus on school when your family hasn’t eaten for 2 days, and sometimes the desperation for any source of money is too much. I never thought I’d be collecting bullet casings lying around destroyed buildings, I thought that I might be getting a car as a gift for going to university, or maybe Baba’s old Mercedes. Instead, here we are, 9:30 at night using what little light we can to pick up anything that shines. The night went on pretty uneventful, we heard small pockets of gunfire a few times but other than that nothing eventful. It’s a forty-five minute walk back home from where we were and I could tell it was taking a toll on Baba. We got a pretty good haul tonight, I filled up my camping backpack with a few bullet casings and a lot of little scrap bits of steel. Baba filled up his rucksack with copper wire from a house, he couldn’t get all of it tonight because the wall wasn’t completely broken but maybe we’ll get it soon.
	On our walk back Baba asked me how I felt about maybe moving. He said we might be able to get Visas to Europe instead of claiming asylum or going through the refugee system. He explained how our savings weren’t going to last us forever and that at the pace we’re going we have maybe another year before we’ll need to do something. I told him that I have no problems leaving, I’ll be able to finish school wherever we go and that I think it’s a good idea. We thought Mira and Mama would be happy to go, it’s almost as if they’re prisoners in their own homes now. “Daesh is a group of stupid cunts who justify their violence with Islam. It’s just bullshit.” Baba said firmly but quietly. “Speaking like that about Daesh is punishable by death, like everything else.” I said with a smirk. Not ten seconds passed before a red, beat up old pickup truck carrying two armed men in the back turned the corner and sped off down the direction we came from. “Close, but no cigar.” Baba said smiling.
	The rest of the night was quiet. We were going to bring everything we collected downtown the next day and see what was selling high. Whatever wasn’t worth much we’d just take back with us, as much as it was a pain to carry back and forth it was a worse pain to sell what we earned for practically nothing. Perhaps the one good thing Daesh did when they first took over Aleppo was buy a lot of reusable metals and bullet casings from the locals, but I doubt it was out of good will. We’ve been collecting scrap metal for a while and it has seen a steady decrease in the amount of money it brings in. It just gets harder and harder to make in two hours what we used to make in one.
Chapter 4: New Life
	April 9, 2016. The last few weeks have brought about the most fighting Aleppo has seen in a long time. No longer have the battles been fought on the outskirts of the city, nowhere is safe. Assad’s forces have decided to go balls to the wall and attack Daesh head on with heavy equipment. A few years ago everyone watched the Super Bowl on television and in the break American Air Force planes flew right over the stadium, the exact same thing was happening here except it wasn’t a performance, Assad was bombing Daesh fighters while they were in civilian houses with little regard for human life. Fighting is house-to-house with fighters –both Daesh and Assad running in and out of people’s houses. The last few days have been the worst yet, our neighborhood hasn’t seen any direct fighting but our neighbor across the street had a stray bullet punch a hole clean through his back door. If I ever complained about the smell of garbage being bad before I didn’t know what was yet to come. Even though Daesh did a poor job collecting the garbage off the streets the piles of foul trash were mainly in the more densely populated areas, now there’s trash lined out here in the suburbs. We’re no saints, we have to throw garbage out too, but at least we try to keep it near the curbs as far away from the sidewalks as possible.
	I’m pretty certain that nobody has had the balls to go out and pick up any bullet casings, Assad’s troops have never worried too much about civilian casualties and Daesh troops will just come up with a half-assed excuse that works just fine. I can’t speak for everybody though, the only time anybody from our house went outside was to throw away trash or to get groceries. I wouldn’t blame somebody for risking their life for this chance, with all the shit going on it’s got to be a goldmine out there. Baba’s been talking more and more about us leaving Syria, even if we have to claim asylum and get sent to a refugee camp we think it’ll be worth it. Syria has become a pretty big pile of shit, Daesh just about ruined the entire goddamn country and may god strike us all down if a single soul thinks otherwise.
Chapter 5: Gone
	April 15, 2016. Well, our neighborhood was one of the last ones to get hit, but when it did holy hell did it ever. On the tenth of April Assad’s air force stopped its crude barrel bombing but instead brought in tanks. A lot of fucking tanks. Pictures online don’t do them justice, tanks are absolutely huge and scary as fuck. When Daesh fighters decided to seek refuge overnight in our neighborhood we were afraid of what they might do, but we never considered what Assad’s forces might do. The tanks rolled through the streets, waking everybody within two blocks and practically destroying the paved roads. Then one of the dumb fuck Daesh fighters down the street decided to shoot one with his gun. Not a special anti-tank bazooka or anything, just his dinky-ass AK. If you’ve ever had a big passenger jet fly right above you near an airport, that’s what a tank shooting its big gun sounds like except you can feel the heat from the blast. We never heard from the family that lived inside of that house again, and we didn’t stick around long enough in the morning to find out.
	Baba had everything planned out, we had Syrian passports from years of vacationing and we were going to fly to Turkey. From Turkey Baba managed to get into contact with a smuggler who would get all of us into Greece. In Greece we could claim asylum. There was another more expensive option too, even though the recent events might have proven otherwise, the smuggler Baba talked to still said that Greece was barely any better than Syria, so if we wanted to get into a good European country like the UK or Sweden it would cost nearly triple the total cost of leaving Syria and getting to Greece. Our savings had taken a hit over the last few months, even though Baba’s Mercedes was fairly new the market for luxury vehicles in Aleppo wasn’t entirely huge.
We were packed and ready to leave before sunrise but we didn’t dare step outside before it was light out. If any of the war fighters were to have discretion when shooting at least they’d get a chance to see that it’s a group of civilians. At 9:00 sharp Baba called for a taxi, we thought the taxis might not come out this far in such a dangerous time but a large tip incentivized the driver enough. We filed into the van and drove off towards Damascus.
We reached the airport in Damascus and had to buy tickets at the airport itself for the next day. We’d have to stay overnight in the airport, we blended right in though because the airport opened its doors to those who lost their homes in the conflict. Even though there is a huge amount of civilians in the airport that doesn’t mean it’s safe. It could easily be bombed or attacked by either side as an airport is pretty important in war. Everyone bunkered down together and held on to our suitcases as we slept, the last thing we need is someone coming and stealing what remaining things we have.
In the morning we were some of the first ones to wake up. Luckily we didn’t have to wait in line long to board our flight though the takeoff was delayed for a few hours so we just sat on the plane waiting. We weren’t sitting in the nicer sections like we used to back when we went on vacation, my legs were scrunched right up against the chair in front of me. I looked over and saw Baba struggling with the same problem, being tall is good sometimes and at other times it’s terrible. Finally after a long wait the plane took off towards Turkey. I wasn’t sure what we were doing after getting to Greece –if we even make it. Baba kept quiet the entire flight while Mira was watching some old movie beside him on the plastic plane television screens. Mama fell asleep beside me and as we were leaving Syria I couldn’t help but think of Rasha. In the last few years of her life Rasha was always so busy with school that she barely ever got a chance to have fun, and one of the few times she did she was killed. It bothers me that in 10 years nobody will remember her name, they won’t know what she studied, what her dreams were, instead she was just another number. After a short bit one of the stewardesses spoke up over the announcement system and told everyone that we were now entering Turkey.
Chapter 6: New Life New Hurdles
After getting off the plane in Turkey Baba made a call on his phone and said that we’d have to wait 30 minutes or so before the smuggler arrives. Once he did we were led to a fairly new, beat up white minivan where Baba handed the smuggler a lot of cash. After the smuggler counted the money he told us that we’d be driving across the border to Greece. He assured us that he knew the border guards well and that as long as we kept quiet and our heads low we shouldn’t run into any problems.
The drive lasted no more than a few hours but it felt like an eternity. Five of us packed into the minivan like sardines in a can with all our luggage sitting wherever we could fit it. Baba asked if we could turn the air conditioning in the car on but the smuggler said the car doesn’t have one. The minivan wasn’t that old so I got the feeling he was just being a cheap bastard but I’m not going to insult someone like him. Once we got to the border