* Any views expressed in this opinion piece are those of the author and not of Thomson Reuters Foundation.
It was Friday evening when I got the call. My family inside Idleb city wanted me to help them to escape the fighting and airstrikes. It was two days before I was finally able to get there and in that time I could not speak to them as all the phone lines were down. I didn’t sleep those two nights.
By Sunday morning I was in a car with two of my friends going back to our home city that we had not seen for more than two years, all of us searching for our families who we had lost contact with,.
The journey to Idleb felt so long and we travelled in silence, lost in thought about how the city would look. We held our breath as we crossed deserted check points. We were three grown men in a car with eyes full of tears shouting, “We are here, inside our city. We are finally here.”
All around were destroyed tanks and cars, holes gaping in the sides of the buildings. We drove past the main fuel station that had been destroyed by an airstrike, before reaching a hospital in the city centre that was still on fire having just been hit in an airstrike; it is here that those caught in the latest fighting are brought, both the injured and the dead.
Finally I arrived at my street. I jumped the stairs and knocked at my door full of happiness. ‘Open the damn door, it is me, I am back!’ But there is no response. Sitting on the stairs I feel hopeless wondering, ‘Where are they? Are they safe? Is my niece Lara crying and waiting for me to come back as I always promised I would?’
Disappointed with myself for being late, I struggle down the stairs. As I reach the street, I see three dead bodies left on the pavement in front of my house.
Driving around the city in an attempt to find my family, I stop at a number of schools that now stand abandoned although you can still see children’s drawings attached to the fence. I met three teachers I knew who were very concerned about their relatives and students. With a heavy sigh, a teacher said to me, ‘Do you know Mohammed R? His child is a student in my class. Their house was destroyed by an airstrike yesterday night; I don’t know what happen to them. I hope they are alive.’
As we stood watching a group of children in the street, another of the teachers said, ‘Poor children, they have lost everything. They lost their happiness, their education, and their dreams! Who is going to help them.’ He did not know that I now work for Save the Children*.
I kept driving and saw the fear on the faces of people staring up at the sky. A few minutes later, I heard a huge explosion close by. Driving away, I saw a family of three adults and five children desperately squeezing themselves into a small car. All of the children were crying and a woman was saying to the youngest ones; ‘My dears don’t cry, the aircraft is far from us.’ Once they were in the car they quickly left - just one of the many families fleeing the city for somewhere a little bit safer.
Trucks and cars filled with people, searching for somewhere to stay, are now leaving the city in droves. Many are moving in with extended family members, into collective shelters, or into makeshift camps on farmland.
Most basic services in the city have stopped, although a few shops are open and some organisations are providing emergency food and shelter. One of my friends is a doctor who told me that, because there is no electricity, he is worried about the vaccines stored in the medical fridges. Another friend’s sisters told me that the government building where all the students’ records are stored is in an area where there is frequent shelling and airstrikes. If these are lost, what happens to those children’s futures?
Since the fighting in Idleb started over two weeks ago, children have stopped attending school and many teachers have also fled. My sister is one of these. She is worried about how and when she will be able to start her work again. Education is extremely important to people in Idleb, and before this latest fighting attendance at the schools in the city was very high – at odds with much of the rest of the country.
Education is what parents tell me is one of their major concerns for their children. But with teachers and families dispersing, schools filling up with displaced families, or even targeted in the fights, where will these children go and who will teach them?
Finally, having driven through my deserted city for hours, I go back to my house in the hope that my family might be there. They weren’t, but a neighbour told me they managed to leave the city and are now living in a small town just two hours away. I have not yet seen my niece Lara, my sister, or the rest of my family, but at least I know that, for now at least, they are safe.
*Working in coordination with other agencies on the ground, Save the Children is providing vulnerable families with access to clean water, blankets, mattresses, cooking equipment and other essential items. We are also working with local communities to keep children safe from harm.
