Day 25: When You Google the Word Syria… by Shifa S Safadi

I googled the word Syria recently.

The results were not surprising- image upon image, news article upon news article showed death and destruction, rubble and war, refugees and upended boats at sea.

I googled: What does Syria look like.

I got before and after pictures of buildings destroyed by the Assad regime.

I googled: What does Syria smell like?

I got the words smoke, and death.

I googled: What does Syria feel like.

All I got were news articles about the war…

I had to pause for a moment. As a writer, and avid reader, and a huge lover of language- I have often observed the effect of language and narrative. Narratives can create perceptions in the world- ones that may or may not be true.

And this narrative about Syria, about Arab countries, paints Arab lives as ones of only pain.

The reality is far from that.

Arab lives are filled with joy and happiness and belonging, despite the unhappy moments we experience. Arabs seek joy in every moment, even within painful moments.

During the aggression upon Syria by the Assad regime, Syrians cracked jokes about their lack of electricity and food. They came up with ways to cope through memes, through mutual aid, through community.

Families celebrated holidays like Eid by selling their gold to get gifts for each other, like in my picture book “The Gift of Eid”, where a young girl sells her necklace to get a gift for her grieving mother.

Refugees who fled Syria encountered obstacles and hardships, but they sought joy in every moment- in their search for jobs like Amina’s Baba in my series AMINA BANANA- like her mother having hope in a better future despite needing to repeat all her doctor exams in English, like Amina found happiness in the piles of bananas at the grocery store, and found resilience in the way she created formulas to find friendship and belonging.

My people found ways to survive, and thrive.

We are not our pain.

We are our laughter, our ful fart jokes, our enduring faith and hope in our future, our delicious food, our dabkeh dance parties, our community care, our utter generosity (tell any Arab you like something and watch them give it to you the same moment!).

We are our busy streets, our crowded masajid, our adoration for cats, our love of garlic and olive oil, our sunshine sweet fruit, our fiery tempers when stuck in traffic, our fierce loyalty to family, our strong sense of justice.

When people google the word Syria: I hope they see images of the hundreds and hundreds of people praying in Masjid Al-Umawi after Assad fell, their faith in freedom giving them strength to rebuild. I hope people see images of the rallies where Syrians of all backgrounds stood together celebrating the fall of a dictatorship and shouting out their hope for a better democratic future.

When people google what Syria looks like: I hope they see spinning shawarma and artful mosaic boxes, and smiling kids running after cats in the streets, the rows and rows of chewy gummy candy in the markets, and the orchards full of glowing apricots.

When people google what does Syria smell like? I hope they find the scent of jasmines and roses, combined with that strong scent of diesel that signals the busy overflowing beloved streets, the smell of the date baked sweets in the market, and the perfumed oud that can rival any brand name cologne in the world.

When you google: What does Syria feel like.

I hope you get the words:

LOVE.

Because what I feel for my heritage is love.

And I hope the world gets to see that too, through my books and words and characters- I hope you see the love shining through each letter.