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

It’s just like climbing a tree, Zaid. Just a tree that has some really sharp edges. Don’t look directly down and don’t over think. Only look where you’re grabbing and stepping. But, most importantly, don’t stop until you’re at the top.

I move one foot or hand at a time. As I use my injured left hand to tightly grip pieces of rough debris and pull myself up, I feel it putting some strain on the healing cut. The back of my mind starts screaming that I’ll reopen the wound, but I ignore the cries. It doesn’t matter now.

Right foot. Left hand. Left foot. Right hand. I follow that order as if my life depends on it. With each step, I climb higher and higher. I don’t hesitate between each movement, but I don’t move too fast either. Resisting the urge to look down or up, I keep my eyes focused on where I’m grabbing or stepping next. There’s glass everywhere. I feel small pieces of glass cutting into my shoe, pants, or protected hands, but no skin gets sliced open.

Reaching out, I grab ahold of another ledge. As soon as my fingers touch the top of it, I feel them pressing against the flat side of some glass. Longer than any of the others I’ve seen, the shard is set alongside the ridge with its edge sticking out into my palm. With every ounce of pressure I put onto my hand as I bring my foot up, I sense strands of the wrapping’s cloth being cut. Is the glass going to make it to my palm? I hesitate for a moment, but the glass barely cuts into the cloth as I hold on to the ledge. Getting my left foot placed on a ridge, the ground beneath it is too shaky for comfort. Should I move it? No… it’ll hold up.

I’m halfway there now. Something to my left catches my eye. I whip my head in that direction only to see one of the vultures who was following me land on top of the rubble. Its hollow eyes are locked on me, as if it’s waiting for somethi—

No! The debris under my left foot suddenly gives in. In the next instant, the ledge beneath my right foot breaks off.

My body goes lurching downwards. I stop with an abrupt jolt, barely hanging on to the ledges with my hands. My eyes are wide as my legs dangle in the air. Breaths are quick. Heart stopped. The glass at my left hand cuts through more of the cloth. I feel its jagged edge nearly touching my palm. Is it cutting into me? I can’t tell.

Hands trembling and legs flailing, I barely hold myself from falling below. My mind panics. Get a grip, Zaid! How far up am I? Four meters, maybe five. If I let go, that won’t kill me. Wait—why am I thinking like that? A fall from up here will injure my foot. Get ahold of yourself. Find another place to set a foot.

Unable to take my gaze off of my quivering hands, I blindly start running and kicking my feet against the debris, searching for a level place to step on. My fingers are strained as my hands tremble harder and faster with each passing second.

Don’t let go, Zaid. Don’t you dare let go.

I see the vulture through my peripheral vision. It’s—it’s inching closer. And it’s no longer alone. Two more come out of nowhere, landing on either side of the first. They’re waiting for a moment to swoop in and do to me what I saw them do to that body in the middle of the street.

Inhaling a calming breath, I look down at my feet. I see a place to set my foot on. I’ll have to reach, but it’s not too far. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to regain any composure that I can. Stretching out my right leg, I place my foot on the ridge and press down on it. With the pressure off of my hands, I hastily move my left hand off of the ledge covered with glass and on to a safer one. I tightly grab it before looking down and finding a place to settle my last foot.

I stay there, taking a deep breath and then another. My senses settle down a bit. Shutting my eyes, I lean my forehead against the rigged debris. That was too close. I hold my position until my heart finally accepts that the danger is passed.

Opening my eyes, I turn my gaze towards the three vultures. They’re still looking at me from several feet away. The thought crosses my mind that they could swarm me and try to force me to let go. I’d be helpless against them. However, I don’t have any choice but to keep moving forward.

Looking upwards, I map out my path step-by-step. I should be there in no time. With a clenched jaw, I push forward and yank any fear or hesitation to the back of my mind. My vision tunnels on my destination, my thoughts becoming focused on it.

Right foot. Left hand. Left foot. Right hand. Those are the only words that echo through my mind as I slowly claw my way towards the top of the mountain. Right foot. Left hand. Left foot. Right hand.

It doesn’t take long. Either that or I get too caught up in my movement and lose track of time. Arriving at the top of the summit, I victoriously look ahead as the vultures abruptly leave. But my eyes lose their enthusiasm. Up ahead, there’s another mountain like this one waiting for me to climb.

The memory of Nabeel—one of the last times I saw him before he again left for deployment—flashes through my mind.

I’ve been waiting in the kitchen for nearly half an hour, though it feels much longer. I recognize the heavier footsteps descending towards the second floor. Leaving my bowl of halwa , I excitedly scurry into the corridor just as Nabeel arrives into view. He doesn’t look my way and is just about to step onto the next flight of steps to go down to the shop when my words stop him.

“Are you ready?”

Hearing my voice, Nabeel turns around and smiles at me. He looks more dressed for a lunch than for the park. “Ready for what?”

I start making my way towards him. “You said you’d take me to the park.”

He hesitates for a moment, his grin diminishing. “Was that today?”

“You’re leaving tomorrow for deployment, aren’t you?” I stop right in front of him. “You said we’d go the day before you leave.”

Nabeel takes a deep breath as an apologetic expression washes over him. “Sorry, buddy. Looks like I’m going to have to take a rain check. I have to go take care of some things before I leave.”

I knew he’d say that. Something always comes up. My heart sinks. Without a word, I look down.

“But I promise, when I get back, we’ll spend a whole day at the best park or garden we can find.”

“You always say that.” My words are barely audible.

“This time, I’m telling the truth.” Bending down a bit, he playfully flicks me on my forehead, forcing me to look back up at his smiling face and genuine, caring eyes. “Just wait and see, Dr. Zaid… just wait and see.”

As the memory of my brother fades, I find myself standing over a fallen fence and looking into a garden. My eyes are on the Turkey Oak. The last time I saw one of these was when my two best friends and I were walking back from school. It was only hours before this wicked battle began. Why does that seem like a different lifetime?

Thinking back even further, I remember Nabeel taking me out to a tree just like this one for my ninth birthday. He taught me how to climb it. I was terrified, but his conviction was so strong that I couldn’t say ‘no’. A few steps into it, I fell straight down and he caught me like it was nothing. He’d always catch me when I needed it, was always there for me in one way or another.

That was all a long time ago.

My ears pick up some high-pitched noise. What’s that sound? It’s coming from the tree. I hear it again before seeing the source. Surrounded by green leaves, the bird is so small that I have to squint to make out its features. It’s the Palestinian Sunbird. No more than ten centimeters long, I recognize its black and navy feathers. It chirps again as it hops along the branch.