Ammar Habib - The Heart of Aleppo - A Story of the Syrian Civil War

I almost ask him ‘why’ but stop myself.

“I’ve lived most of my life, Zaid. But you and your friends are just beginning yours. I don’t believe in happenstance. You were brought to my doorstep, and it’s my responsibility to look after you.” He falls silent for a moment. “So you want to be a doctor, Zaid?”

“I’ve wanted that all my life.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to make the world a better place. I…I want my life to matter. I want to save those around me, do something meaningful.”

He warmly smiles. “Will you promise me something, Zaid?”

I nod.

“No matter what happens, don’t forget who you are. And never abandon hope. Start making the world a better place now by never letting hope die in yourself or in anyone around you.”

I don’t reply right away as I notice what’s lying on the floor beside him: a book. It’s not the book that gets my attention; instead, it’s what he is using as the bookmark. It’s a gold medal with a red, white, and blue ribbon. The metal is rusting, but I immediately recognize it. Nabeel received one just like it after his first campaign. “That’s the Order of Bravery.”

He follows my gaze to see what I’m looking at before picking up the medal with his free hand. “Yes, it is.”

“But you’re using it as a bookmark?”

“And that surprises you?”

“It’s just that I’ve always seen it framed,” I reply.

“The people framing it must have valued it.”

“And you don’t?

“Some lives for medals.” He pauses. “Others find their gratification in living for an ideal.”

I don’t understand what that means. There’s another awkward silence before I think of something to say. “When did you earn it?”

“December 1990. During The Gulf War. A convoy of Syrian and American soldiers was ambushed and pinned. I led the rescue operation. Through Allah’s allowance, my men saved over fifty lives. I’ll never forget what my superior officer told me afterwards. He said there’d be a place for me in the army until the day I die.”

“But you left?”

As he nods, I see a distant look briefly enter his eyes.

“Why?” I ask.

Taking a deep breath, Jari looks at the ground in front of him. “I took a stand, Zaid. I stood my ground and went against my superiors over something that I knew would cost me my career. But I still did it because there are some things worth surrendering your wealth, honor, and life for. Things that matter more than my own life.”

I stay silent.

“When the masses are against you, when fear is on every side, and when it seems like you’re alone, that is when you should stand the tallest. That is when you plant yourself like a mountain, and you do what your heart knows is right. Even if death will be your only reward.” He pauses before looking back towards me. “It’s getting late now, Zaid. Try and get some sleep.”

“I don’t think I can sleep.”

“Close your eyes at least. If your mind won’t rest, let your eyes do so. I’ll switch off the light.” Jari rises to his feet. “You have a long day tomorrow with your friends.”

With a nod, I slowly resume my previous position as the room goes dark. Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes, hoping that my dreams will allow me to escape reality.

A prayer echoes in my head while I sleep. The voice sounds like my Abbi. No, it’s Jari. His voice is low, barely above a mutter. It’s softer than before, as if he’s holding something back. Am I dreaming this? It feels too real.

“…forgive me, Lord… I promise to protect these children with my life. I’ve… I’ve made mistakes… I’ve been trying to make it up since that day… trying to do the right thing even… it’s only led to ridicule and dishonor… and… I’m being punished ever since…

Is he crying? The weeping is faint, but it consumes every word.

“…I lost… Fiza… and… I take an oath… I won’t fail these children… through Your strength, I never go back on my word… never.”

It still feels like nighttime when I drift out of my slumber. Of course, there’s no real way to tell in this darkened room. It’s not as warm as before. Maybe it’s because the lights are off. Sensing Jari laying near me, I turn to face his direction.

It takes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. Everyone appears to be asleep. Jari is resting on his side. I squint my eyes to get a better look at him. He… he’s tightly gripping his stomach. Even in the blackness, the anguish painted on his slumbering face is obvious. His stomach releases a rumble longer than any I’ve ever heard before.

The realization of his earlier words begins to dawn on me. There’s food upstairs. I saw it when I went to use the phone, but he’s starving himself to ensure that we have enough. For a moment, it seems so surreal that a complete stranger would do something so—so… I can’t even find the word.

What kind of a person does that? What kind of a person starves themselves so that a stranger will have enough? The thought of it leaves me with goose bumps.

His stomach growls again. And then once more, louder than ever. Is it minutes or seconds between each one? As I stare at Jari’s grimaced expression, it’s as if I am literally feeling his pain. A part of me believes that this can’t be real. He would put himself through this torture for us?

I focus on his face for a long time, as if searching for a sign. What is it about him that’s so familiar? What gives a person this selflessness?

There are scars behind Jari’s eyes. I don’t know what created them, but they’re undeniably present. I noticed them when I asked him about the army, the medal, and why he left. Is that what he was praying about? Did they do something to him?

Continuing to look at his face, I finally remember the answer to the question that has been eating away at me all evening: where did I hear Jari’s name before? Jari was the name of the hero in a book we read for school. I don’t remember much, but I recall the meaning of the name: one who God will set free.

I hardly even slip back into sleep before I jolt up. Somebody is banging on the shop’s front door. It’s thunderous enough to shake the building. I shoot up to my feet, everything a blur. The knocking is still ringing in my ears as I wipe my face.

My vision starts to focus. Salman and Fatima are standing as well. The storage closet’s door is open just a crack. Jari is peering out into the rest of the shop, pistol in his hand. The banging continues, louder with each passing second. The three of us exchange confused and dazed glances, but Jari doesn’t look back at us. What could that be?

Without thinking, I take a few steps towards Jari. Looking through the doorway’s crack from afar, I see the sunlight spilling into the shop. A loud, haughty voice cuts through the air. “We know you’re in there!”

That voice sounds angry and dangerous. I again look at Fatima, but she keeps her eyes glued to Jari’s back. So does Salman. Shrilling gunfire breaks the stillness, and I instinctively wince as my heart skips a beat. But Jari doesn’t move an inch. His strong jaw is clenched, his eyes unwavering. The grip around his gun remains tight and his other hand is formed into a fist. I don’t hear the bullets hit anything. Maybe they were fired into the air.

“Come out!” Every syllable is mixed with a vile intent. Are those the rebels? “Come out and face the consequences of betraying your country!”

What is he—

“Any soldier who served a tyrant is a coward! And they will all receive a coward’s death!”

Soldier? Nobody here is a soldier except… Jari glances back at us. My eyes widen at the realization of what’s occurring. Those rebels want him. They want to execute him! Jari wouldn’t—