Filmed and narrated by female Syrian journalist Waad Al-Kateab, the 2019 documentary For Sama followed five years of Waad’s life in war torn Aleppo with Hamza Al-Kateab, her husband who worked as one of the few doctors remained in Aleppo, and Sama, their baby girl who was born and raised in Aleppo during the bloody civil war. Her first person account of daily life in the rebel held Aleppo, and in particular, documentation of how warfare was affecting the innocent children in the city was heartbreaking. For Sama did generate some international attention at least in the film circles. It was critically acclaimed worldwide and won a number of the year’s best documentary award, including the BAFTA and Cannes. The documentary was a visual testimony for Waad to tell her story to her own child Sama, explaining to her what they were fighting for during the Syrian uprising, why they have insisted to stay in Aleppo to operate the only hospital left in the rebel territory, how they have attempted to support each other in the diminishing local community, how they have lived through the Russian and government bombardment in their neighborhood at a regular basis, and how they have witnessed death and desperation day in, day out for five long years. For Sama reminds me of the Syrian children we have encountered during our sojourn in Syria back in 2006. We could never fully comprehend and truly feel how terrible the situations must have been for each of these children during the decade long civil war. Our hearts go out to every one of them and their families, and hope that they can return to Syria and rebuild their homes as soon as situation allows.
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Before hiring a Jordan-bound service taxi from Baramke Station, we wandered in the old city of Damascus one last time. In a narrow alleyway, we saw a group of school boys, all dressed in blue school uniforms, perhaps just finished their morning school. We soon encountered another group of cheerful school children, this time they were all girls. We followed the girls to a popular neighborhood ice-cream parlour. How lucky we were. After the girls picked up their cones, we got ourselves some of the best vanilla ice-cream we had during the trip, and each cone was only 15 cents USD. Another group of school children arrived at the parlour as we were about to walk off.
At Baramke, we hired a taxi to make the trip to Amman of Jordan. We picked a driver in his fifties. Wearing a grey blazer despite the heat, the driver drove between the Syrian and Jordanian capital regularly. It didn’t take us much time to go through the passport controls at both the Syrian and Jordanian sides. After 1.5 hour we were already arriving at downtown Amman. We dropped off our bags at Sydney Hotel, and headed off immediately to look for the guidebook-acclaimed Palestinian juice stand for a cup of refreshment.
Before leaving Damascus, we wandered in the old city one last time.
Houses that have stood for centuries might have gone forever after the civil war, especially for cities like Aleppo where even the UNESCO World Heritage listed old city was bombarded by explosives, poisonous chemicals, and missiles from Russian warplanes.
It is always the most innocent and vulnerable people would suffer the most during wartime. Seeing the deaths of families, the fleeing of school friends, and the destruction of neighborhoods, and living along with the deafening noises of gunfire and explosives everyday is just too much for the children to bear.
We followed a group of school girls to a neighborhood ice-cream parlour.
We were curious about the school children and so were they on us.
Scenes of cheerful school children buying ice-cream from a neighborhood ice-cream parlour was perhaps a regular daily scene in prewar Syria. Now it may only happen in a handful of government strongholds.
For us, the ice-cream was delicious and affordable, but the most essential thing was the joy that it brought to everyone of us, school children and curious travelers alike, at that particular moment of spring 2006, in one of the narrow alleys of old Damascus.
No fancy shop decoration or special ice-cream flavours, just simple vanilla ice-cream has brought out the purest happiness from the Syrian children.
Every time seeing news of devastating destruction and haunting human sufferings in Syria would make me worry about all the children that we met during our visit.
Despite our brief encounter might only involve exchanges of eye contacts and smiles, these simple smiling faces represent the most unforgettable and precious imagery of my Middle East trip.
I sincerely wish that one day all Syrian children may safely return to their homeland, and have the chance, resources and freedom to rebuild a better country for their next generation.