Erstellt am: 30. 4. 2016 - 13:37 Uhr
The Death Trip - Part 6
Bode37 ist im Sommer aus Syrien geflohen, wo er als Lehrer gearbeitet hat. Für uns erzählt er von seiner Flucht aus Latakia. Hier der vierte Teil seiner Erinnerungen. Er heißt natürlich nicht wirklich so; aus Sicherheitsgründen bevorzugt er für seine Geschichte ein Pseudonym.
Memories haunting Bode 37
We arrived to Al Yamadiha border point at 9.30 pm. I felt cold but I wasn’t sure why. Was it fear or the weather? The border between Syria and Turkey was right in front of us, and at Al Yamadiha we were supposed to meet the guide escorting us through the fenced area. To my surprise the guide turned out to be a little boy named Tarek. 9 years of age and he has been living in a refugee camp at the border for quite some time so he knows the surroundings well. We followed him in total silence and crossed the iron fence into the no man's land between the borders. Tarek was running ahead to check out if the terrain was clear. After a few moments, he came back breathless and told us to return to Syrian territory because there was Turkish border patrol hiding behind the trees. It was so cold that evening and I still remember the sound of the river and the frogs.
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It was like a sad symphony, the overtones coming from the ideas and imaginations in my head. I couldn’t retract and rest to clear my thoughts. I had to keep going. There was no place left for me in Syria after I fled Latakia, my home because I refused to be soldier in the government army as well as being a part of Al Nosrah. In my situation, staying in Syria meant killing or being killed. There was no third choice in these times of war. Tarek suggested staying in the camp until morning because it was too difficult to cross that night. The camp consisted of tents made of nylon, barely a protection from the weather.
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I covered myself with five blankets and still I felt very cold that night, the first of May. Sleep didn´t come easy, my thoughts were with the permanent residents of the camp. How do they survive winter? How do they shelter the children? I felt exhausted longing for sleep and an end of that horror when they came to wake me up at 3.30am.
We had to move fast, it was quiet in the woods. Birds were singing and we were walking between mountains shelter by deep forests. I was uneasy, expecting soldiers behind every tree but all my fears disappeared when I saw taxi cars stopping on the top of the road. Tarek, the young guide said goodbye and returned to the camp, his mission ended here. We were in Turkey! The taxi took us to the town of Yaladagi where I was supposed to meet Hasan, the boss of the smugglers.
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On the road, the sunrays were washing away my exhaustion. Finally, I saw the Turkish villages I knew from Turkish TV series with my own eyes. At dawn, we arrived to a very small village. The streets were empty, Turkish flags were everywhere. We stopped in front of a family home with a blue door and a man in his early twenties opened the door. I was astonished when the men that had brought me across the border addressed him as boss. He ordered them to leave then he invited me to drink a cup of coffee with him.
He was very friendly and asked me if during the journey anyone had annoyed, mistreated or robbed me. I handed him the 1000$ and I asked him if I could make a call to Yazan, a friend of my brother who is living in the Turkish city of Antakia since 2012. Hasan made the call and personally drove me to Antakia, with the directions Yazan gave him.
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We arrived around 11 pm and Yazan was waiting for us. He gave me a big welcome hug and Hasan left. It took me some time to realize that I was back in a safe private home. A hot bath was not enough to wash off the horrific memories of the night before but it was kind of okay after a long sleep. I woke up in the evening and Yazan was not at home. I made a cup of coffee and drank it on the balcony. No more hiding for now!
I wanted to talk to my family telling them that I was safe but I did not dare to call, I would put my loved ones in danger.