A Syrian refugee grew up with a safe, happy childhood until the 2011 Arab spring and civil war. Two imprisonments for protesting the Assad regime occurred before a near-fatal missile attack at age 17 prompted escape. The journey moved through Turkey and across Europe to Calais, motivated by a desire to reunite with an aunt and cousins and by English language ability. Ten months were spent in Calais attempting dangerous crossings via lorries, cargo trains, and ferries while confronting hostile smugglers and aggressive French police. Exhaustion, fear, and longing for family pushed continued risk to seek safety.
Hardly a day goes by without a new insult being hurled in the faces of asylum seekers and refugees. We're scroungers, rapists, fighting-age men who shouldn't have left our home countries. Sometimes we're simply illegals, the most dehumanising term of all. When did it become a crime to run for your life? The people levelling these accusations are superb at making themselves heard. Mud sticks and most of us
I grew up in Syria. My childhood was safe and happy idyllic when I look back at it. In 2011, the Arab spring and civil war in Syria changed everything. I was imprisoned twice for protesting against the Assad regime, but it never crossed my mind to leave. Like many young people, I never thought death would come for me. Everything changed when I was almost killed in a deadly missile attack in a suburb of Aleppo I was only 17,
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