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بس انا واولادي — كانا مايتين. هلا من الوقت الذي جينا الى امريكا، حيينا من جديد. رجعنا لحياتنا، مستقبل اولادي، يعطون فرصة هن
I and my children — we were dead... When we came to America, we were living anew. We came back to life. My children have futures. They are given a chance here.
Nadia is originally from Syria. She, her husband Naif, and her four children fled the war in Syria and moved first to Lebanon, then back to Syria, then to Jordan, and in 2016 they came to the United States. After living in an apartment for five years, they have just purchased their own home. Naif works with computers, and Nadia is studying for her citizenship exam. She hopes to return to school soon. Their four children are enrolled in their local public school.
We lived peaceful lives in Syria with our friends and family. We all loved and cared for each other. Then the war started.
The fighting moved from neighborhood to neighborhood, and we had to move to find the quietest place to protect our children. So we took our children out of school and moved to Deraa Teyaa, where we stayed for a year. There wasn’t any fighting there, and we tried to enroll our children in school.
My oldest daughter Layan was in second grade at that time, but she had missed three years of school because we kept moving. When I tried to enroll her, the administrator said, “I cannot accept Layan because she is older. Marry her off instead, or teach her to knit so she can get a job.”
My next child, Amir, was younger, so I was able to enroll him in school. But I struggled for two to three more months to enroll Layan. After lots of pleading, I was able to enroll Layan in the third grade. But after three months, the war began again.
There was so much fighting. We didn’t understand what the war was about, who was fighting whom, who we could trust, which side to join. We didn’t even know why each side was fighting. There was so much bombing and shooting in the area. I kept asking my husband, “Where should we go?”
At one point, we went four days without electricity, water, or food. The neighbors who lived above us joined us in our home, and we stayed together to keep alive.
It was a hard life. I kept asking, “What should I do for my children? How can I keep them alive?” Because when I looked outside the window, I would see a person walking down the street get shot, or I would see a bomb detonate in front of my eyes, and the floor would shake.
“What should I do for my children? How can I protect them? If the house were bombed, we would all die.”
After a while, the two sides signed a ceasefire agreement, and they gave the families in our area only one hour to flee. So we left with our children at once.
As I was leaving, I saw buildings collapsed on the ground. I saw people hurt and dying. As we were leaving, we saw the car in front of us get blown up, along with everyone within it. I held onto my children and prayed.
We got out of the car and moved forward on foot. We found a barrier, but we didn’t know if we could cross it or if we would die. We asked the soldiers, but they said, “You can pass, but once you leave this area, you will be killed.”
We made the decision to leave, and we made it to my uncle’s home. We stayed with him for ten days, but he already had a family to care for, and we did not want to burden them unnecessarily. So we decided to move to Lebanon.
We lived in Lebanon for one month. Life was very hard. It was so expensive. We couldn’t enroll our children in school because it cost so much. Bread was expensive, food was expensive.
We had four children, and we couldn’t get work. We kept looking and looking for something to do, always asking ourselves, “How will we live?”
Even the weather was a challenge — it was cold, and it was hard for us to adapt.
People helped us at first, but we didn’t have work. When the help stopped, it was harder to pay for rent and school and food.
After a while, I said to my husband, “Enough. There is nothing for us here. Let’s return to Syria.” But I didn’t want to return to Syria — I was afraid. Where would we live? How would we take care of ourselves and our children? What if our children were killed?
We returned to Syria, but we were afraid. We had no dreams. We wanted to work. We wanted to live.
خائفا. بس خلاص، ما في حلم. بدنا نشتغل، بدنا حياة
My brother suggested we go to Jordan, but I was concerned for the children — for their safety and their future.
When we returned to Syria, there was a bombing in the first week, and it wasn’t safe. Our old home was bombed, and all of our official documents were destroyed. So we weren’t even legally documented in the country anymore.
We tried to stay with my family, but there was not enough space for everyone. My brother helped us find a temporary place farther away from the bombing, but after about a week there we made plans to go to Jordan.
When we arrived in Jordan, I was shocked by how it was. In Syria things were bad, but at least we had a house with a roof over our heads. But in Jordan, it was just a desert, and we stayed in a tent overnight. It was hard — very hard. I wanted to return, but we had to stay.
We were told we could leave the camp and go into the country, but we would have to pay money. We decided to pay so we could have a new start.
After we settled in Jordan, I tried to enroll my children in school. My eldest daughter was now a seventh or eighth grader with a third grade education.
“Impossible; it’s not normal. How can we put a thirteen or fourteen year old in third grade?” the admissions counselors would say.
We were in Jordan for four years. Regardless of the amount of help we received from different organizations, things were hard.
It was a life, but living it was hard.
My daughter went without school for six years. My son was also not enrolled in school. After looking around, I found a charity specifically for Syrian children where I sent them to get some tutoring in English and math and so on. I would go with them and help with the young children.
We kept looking for other opportunities, and at last we found an organization that told us we could go to the US.
I didn’t know anything about America or Europe or how we would travel. It was completely foreign to me. Living in Jordan was not easy, and we struggled to adapt, so how would we adapt to something entirely new?
But we had to make the decision for our children's sake. It was hard to see my daughter looking out the window at the other kids going to school when she couldn’t. I felt like I was losing them because they didn’t have an education. The first day of school was like Eid for other kids — they were so excited to get new clothes and go to school — but my children couldn’t experience that. I thought that it would be better for us in the US, so we went through with the interviews.
Now, praise God, we are here. My children are studying. This is wonderful.
Once we finished with our interviews, we were told we could move to America. We sold everything and bought new clothes were staying in a hotel in Amman awaiting our flight.
But then Trump was elected president. They told us, “Trump doesn’t want any refugees.” So we had to get off the plane, and Layan was crying, saying “Now how am I going to learn?”
My children were crying because their dreams were crushed.
Our lives were going to get better. We were going to go to America. We were going to get an education. But all that was over.
We had maybe $50 or $100 left. We were pleading with the organization — I was crying — where would we go? My sister had five children and couldn’t take us in, and we had given up the house we had rented. We had no hope, nothing to do, no money. Eventually we found a place to stay, and my brother paid for rent and my uncle gave us money for furniture. We got the bare basics — mattresses, gas, and electricity.
Three or four days later, I was asleep, and my phone rang. It was the organization that had tried to help us resettle. I thought I was dreaming. When I answered the phone, they said my name and my children’s names and asked us, “Do you still want to go to the U.S.?”
I couldn’t believe it. I kept asking them, “Are you pranking me?”
Then the man on the phone got mad at me. “No, we’re not pranking you,” he said.
So I said, “Yes, of course we’ll go.”
The man was worried from the tone of my voice that I wouldn’t actually go, but I was serious and assured him of it.
Then I called my husband. It was his first day at work. He also thought I was joking. “I’m not in the mood for pranks,” he said.
“I’m not joking,” I told him. “Come home.”
Even after he came home, he kept asking me if I was serious. I kept assuring him that I was.
We waited for the organization to call us back, and they told us they had flights booked for 7 pm that night.
We had a lot of things to sell to cover our debt, but the organization said they would handle that for us. But just in case this flight would also fall through, we didn’t tell our landlords that we were leaving. We said we were going just to see what would happen. But when we went to the airport, praise God, we were truly able to come to America.
There were so many people in the airport in America. So many signs said, “Welcome to the refugees.” It was so nice. There were people there to tell us where to go.
The day that we arrived in America, it was Layan’s birthday. They gave her roses.
We were afraid, but at the same time, we were so excited.
خلاس، هنا حياة رح نبلش. يعني، رح نرجع ان نعيش. كانا مياتين، يعني. …كانت حياة كثير كثير صعبة، وهلا حياة جديدة، أمل جديد
Here, our life is going to start. We are going to return to living. We were dead… our life was very, very difficult. But now we have a new life, a new hope. My children are going to learn. We were living in a tent, and now we are in the United States.
At the beginning, it wasn’t easy. We didn’t know the language, we didn’t know how to do anything, but fortunately there were many many people around to help us with everything.
One day the school called me and said that my daughter had broken her arm. The school was five minutes away, but I didn’t know how to get there, and I didn’t know how to use Uber. So I called a friend who lives in Dc, thirty minutes away, and that friend came all the way from DC to help me pick up my daughter from school.
Even though it was hard at first, there were so many people helping us that it was a good experience. Here, you work hard, and the results are guaranteed.
An organization called IRC helped us with social security, medicaid, enrolling the kids in school and transporting them back and forth. A case manager would come to our home. They got us an apartment and furnished it for us. It was such a good feeling to have a home, a place you can feel safe staying in.
It is a sweet thing to know that this is your home — it is a very special feeling.
It can be colder here than in Jordan, but at least there’s a heating system. Here, you can get hot water from the tap.
Once we arrived in our apartment, we were so happy and tired that we slept for the whole day. We were given food, but we didn’t touch it — we just slept.
We wanted to savor the feeling that we were in our own home, safe, with our children. It is a very special feeling.
Now we feel like our children have a future. My husband and I were the ones responsible for this. We used to fear that our children would die in a bombing, but now the only thing we need to worry about is getting them to school on time. It is such a good feeling to know that we made them safe.
At first, school in America was hard for my children because they did not understand English. They could not understand the teacher. Once in class, the teacher addressed another student, and Saida thought he was speaking to her. So, she stood up and tried to answer, then she realized her mistake. That was hard at first, but now things are better because they know English.
When we came to the US, Layan entered seventh grade. The school helped her catch up, even though she hadn’t learned much since third grade. She had a lot of interviews with teachers and with the principal of the school, and she had to explain her situation and that she had missed four years. But the school decided to enroll her in seventh grade, and the teachers would make it their responsibility to help her catch up on everything.
I was concerned that Layan wouldn’t feel comfortable in school and that it would not be a good experience for her, but the teachers and administrators told me not to worry — they would take care of her. It was a good experience for her to make friends. The teachers were nice, but it was hard to understand what was happening without much English. Now, she writes stories, and she published one of her best in a magazine in New York (I Learn America).
Now, my daughter Layan is about to become a nurse. Amir wants to study business and economics. My second daughter Saida wants to be an actress or doctor. And Amoor, the youngest son, is in fourth grade. He speaks English very well, and sometimes he comes up to me and offers to teach me English. Then he makes fun of me when I make mistakes.
Back home, Naif had his own business. He owned a shop and sold things. Even in Jordan he had his own place. But now, he works for people, and that’s harder for him. But so be it, you have to work. It’s not an option. His first job was at a furniture store, so he would help carry things around and organize furniture. It was hard — very physically demanding — so he started looking for more jobs. He tried lots of things. He worked at a restaurant, a coffee shop, and eventually he found an organization run by Syrians. It involved computers and was easier than the other one. He’s been working there for maybe two years, and it’s going well for them. He’s happy with this job.
In the beginning, it was hard to communicate because my English was not very good. I was afraid to make mistakes, and that delayed my learning. But now I’m at the point where I can communicate with anyone. Sometimes on the bus I’ll hear people talking and generally understand what they’re saying. My children are especially good at speaking English because they learned it in school.
It is very hard to get a job if you don’t speak English. I needed to work on my English and get a better education in order to get a job, and that was the hardest part for me. It would have been beneficial if there were more programs available to help refugees learn English, get jobs, and adapt such that they could work.
When I came to America, I wasn’t surprised in a bad way — I didn’t see anything I didn’t like, per say — but I was shocked by how kind everyone was. If I needed help with anything, people would help me, and that was a very pleasant surprise. In every country I moved to, there were people who were kind and who would help me, but the amount of help I received here was different and surprising.
Learning English was the hardest thing. Back home, I studied until 9th grade, and that was perfectly acceptable. Getting a job was easy, although I didn’t need one because I got married. But here, I need a job, and I need more education in order to get a job. I’m too shy to ask people about job openings though because I don’t have a good enough degree. Everyone is trying to get educated, and I’m embarrassed that I’m not. I need to learn more English and get educated, maybe get my GED, so maybe I can work with computers.
We have Syrian neighbors here and American friends. We enjoy spending time with people.
We go to the mosque on Eid and every now and then, but I don’t drive and it’s far away.
Eid is very different here than in Syria and Jordan. The first Eid was hard. We didn’t have friends or family to celebrate with. Back home, Eid is like a wedding, and you buy new clothes and show them off. But holidays are very hard when you’re alone. I cried on our first Ramadan here. On Eid, you go to the mosque, pray, then you come back home and sleep. American people are nice and try to celebrate with us, but it’s different when you’re with your family. But now that we’ve made new friends, holidays are much better.
When Covid came, I was very afraid.
In the past, I was afraid of losing my children in the war. When I came to the States, I left that fear behind. But when Covid came, those fears returned.
We were very strict about everything at first. I didn’t let my children out of the house for a long time. They did school from home. It was hard to be inside, to not see the world, to not see anyone, but I felt better about it because it seemed to be the right thing to do. When the vaccine was first available, we got it at once. My youngest child got it as soon as it was available for twelve year olds. Getting the vaccine was a very smooth process. We all made an appointment for the same day toward the end of April and had no problems.
In Syria, I was always surrounded by my family. It was comfortable. Here I can feel pretty comfortable around nice people as well. Now I have friends who I visit with every week. It’s a good feeling to have friends who would exchange visits like this.
Back home in Syria, you can have visitors at any time of the day because many people are self-employed. Also many women don’t work, so they are available for visits any time of the day. But here, people have work all week and aren’t as available for visits. Americans are very busy. They are very kind when you visit them, and they’ll help me, but they’re not fully in control of their time because of jobs and other commitments.
When I came to America, Trump didn’t want refugees. In the world in general, there are people who refuse refugees. But in the end, refugees are humans, too. The refugee has suffered a lot, and he is exhausted by life. He has children, and he wants to see them safe…
People don’t want refugees to take their opportunities from them. But they should think about how many refugees had no life, no education, and they might have died.
I and my children — we were dead. When we came to America, we were living anew. We came back to life. My children have futures. They are given a chance here.
بس انا واولادي — كانا مايتين. هلا من الوقت الذي جينا الى امريكا، حيينا من جديد. رجعنا لحياتنا، مستقبل اولادي، يعطون فرصة هن
In general, people are kind. I would like to thank everyone who helped us come here.
When we first arrived at the airport in America, we were going through the security line. There were many families with small children there. We were standing in a line, and the children were running all over the place. Then an officer started yelling at them — she had every reason to do so — one went here, one went there, and they were completely out of line. I don’t know why, but for some reason I started to cry. I kept crying as we moved through the line, all the way until we reached the train to move us to a different terminal. Then — it feels like a dream — the same officer came up from behind and gave me a hug. She said, “I am sorry; I didn’t mean to frighten you,” and she made sure I was okay. I knew I would never forget that moment, and I never have.