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

The walls are thick enough to keep us secluded from anything happening outside. However, every once in a while, we hear a faint explosion or rumble. About a few hours into our wait, we hear one louder than any other. The entire room trembles as the eruption occurs. Glass chaotically clatters and a couple of books fall from the quaking shelves. The very walls tremor with a rage. For a moment, it feels like the entire shop is going to collapse on us.

Salman puts a reassuring hand on both Fatima’s and my shoulders. He’s so calm. He’s always been the best of us.

I fall asleep a little after the explosion. I don’t know if it’s exhaustion or slumber. Either way, I pray that it will be my gateway to escaping this nightmare. However, it’s a restless sleep. Every few minutes, I wake up to see Salman still by my side, deep in thought, and Fatima lying down on the other side of him.

At one point, all sleep suddenly vanishes from me and I awaken wide-eyed. I know why. Normally, Abbi takes me to the masjid around this time for the afternoon prayers. Rain, shine, sickness, or health, we always went. It’s in my blood now. But not today. Today, it is just the three of us. Today, for the first time, I don’t say my prayers.

But even in this silence, there is no peace. I can’t stop hearing the blast that ended Jari’s life. I can’t stop hearing the attack from last night: the screams, explosions, gunfire, pounding. It’s all there. And I will never un-see it—never forget the chaos and destruction that surrounded me on all sides. However, most of all, I will never forget the look in Jari’s eyes before he turned and willingly walked to his certain death. Behind that gaze was something I have never seen a person encompass before: true courage.

Waking up from one of my short sleeps, I find Fatima sitting next to me. I don’t know the time. It feels like we’ve been in here for days. My mind and body feel worn out and I don’t know why. The more I sleep, the more exhausted I become. Maybe it’s this heat.

Fatima’s dark pink hijab is a bit disheveled, but she is quickly fixing it. It’s all muscle memory, as I imagine she can barely even think about that right now.

Her eyes look tired, begging to sleep. Maybe her mind is keeping slumber out of reach. She keeps her gaze aimed above but notices that I am awake. There’s a copy of the Qur’an and a set of green rosary beads in her lap. They’re the same ones Jari used last night. Next to her is a prayer rug that looks like it was recently used.

“Are you okay, Fatima?” I know she’s not. None of us are. But I ask anyway.

She takes a deep breath before responding, “Yesterday, we were in school. We were sitting in class. We were in the fields. We walked to the bus. Now… it’s like we’re suddenly trapped in a nightmare.” Her hand is lightly shaking. In her eyes, I watch her relive last night. “And now Jari’s gone.” She pauses as her gaze slowly drifts down to the holy book in her hands. “Why is this happening? To us? To our city?”

I look away from her and utter the only thing that comes to mind. “…I don’t know.”

“Do you think God is hearing our prayers?”

“I would like to keep thinking so.”

“Why doesn’t He answer?”

I don’t reply. What can I say?

“People are—they’re dying, Zaid. Bilal. Jari. I don’t know what we’ll find when we step out. And…” She turns to meet my gaze. “I’m scared.”

For the first time in my life, I wish she wasn’t looking at me. Not like that. I see the dread consuming her face, and I don’t know how to take it away.

I’m not sure how long it’s been since I’ve bowed my head. It’s a haze between my dreams and reality now. My eyes scream for rest, but my mind forces me awake. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I resign to watching the sweat run down my arms as I wait for the hits of sleep. When I finally do glance back up, I find Salman and Fatima both fast asleep.

It’s so hot. Hotter than it would be outside. Beads of sweat are running down my face, and my clothes feel drenched with it. My shirt is glued to my body. The A/C is now dead silent, which can only mean one thing.

Maybe there’s a towel on the shelf. Slowly staggering to my feet, I stumble my way there. My legs are numb after sitting down for all this time. I grab ahold of the shelf to keep myself steady.

The first couple of shelves are lined up with books. I look between them but find nothing of use. However, something on the edge of the third rack catches my eye.

It’s a note. It’s been folded up twice and appears somewhat familiar. Glancing at it for a moment, I slowly take it into my hands. There’s writing on one side of it. Is that… my name? I look it over a few times, thinking that I must be hallucinating. But there it is: Z-A-I-D. Wait… this is the same piece of paper that Jari was writing on last night when I couldn’t sleep.

Below my name is another scribbled line. The words appear jumbled at first, but I am able to figure them out:

What does that mean? Holding it with both hands, I turn the folded note to examine it from all sides. Why would Jari write a message for me of all people? A part of me wants to open it now, but the instructions echo in my head. When I need it the most. As bad as things are right now, I don’t think this is the time he intended it for.

A bead of sweat drips off of my face and splashes onto my hand, reminding me of what I’m here for. I hastily stuff the note into my pocket and yank out the first small towel I find on the shelf. I wipe off my face in one go. The white towel is cool against my face. It’s the closest thing to a breeze I’m going to get today.

I take a deep breath, savoring the moment for as long as I can. It must be close to dusk now. A part of me is scared. This room is like a safe haven. Even without Jari, his presence is still here. Nothing can touch us in this room. But out there, out on the streets of Aleppo, it will be a different story.

There, no place will be safe.

Looking down at Salman and Fatima, I remember the last thing I heard Jari utter in his sleep: he never goes back on his word. Ever since he said those words, I can’t let them go. They echo in my head, louder each time. My hand curls into a tight fist. No matter what happens, I will honor what he said before walking out to his death. I will protect Salman and Fatima with my life… that’s my oath.

And just like Jari, I will never go back on my word.

Salman gently pushes my shoulder, throwing me out of a light doze. “It’s time to go.”

I stagger to my feet alongside Salman and Fatima. My eyelids lose their heaviness, but my mind is a mix of weariness and dread.

“Zaid, go back up to the kitchen. See if you can make a food bag. Take as much as you can carry. I’ll see if there’s anything in the closets that we should take. Fatima, see if you can gather up any first aid supplies.”

I don’t understand why he always does this, making decisions for the three of us without ever asking our opinions. But, as always, I don’t voice my objection.

Stepping out of the storage closet, the first thing I see is the evening sunlight spilling in through the broken and cracked windows. It’ll be nightfall within half an hour. I finally get a good look at the shop. I didn’t even notice last night, but this is a bookstore. Pausing for a moment, I examine my surroundings. One side of the shop has neatly organized religious texts and books sitting on wooden shelves, while the other side is dedicated to novels. It’s small and quaint, possessing a cozy aura. Jari owned a bookstore? I would never have guessed.