HOUDA: THE STORY OF A GIRL THAT COULD BE YOU

Idomeni. 23:00. It´s dark. I’m trying to sleep but I can’t because we are about 20 people in the same tent. It has been raining heavily today and I feel cold. My name is Houda and I’m 15 years old. I’m from Palmira, a city located in the desert of Siria, in the middle of the country. I arrived to Greece 5 months ago, but I’ve been in Idomeni for only 4. During the first month we tried to survive with a few things because we had to sell most of our properties in our country to pay our family’s passage to a mafia. My family is formed by my father, Khaled, who used to work in a small food shop, my mother Ghada, who was a teacher in a high school of our city, and finally my brother Mazen who is a 19 years old student of economy at university. The worst day in my life happened last november, when my youngest sister, Fatima, died after an attack of the terrorist group Daesh. They were conquering our city and thousands died.

This is me, Houda, few months ago before moving to Idomeni, in 2015. 
The picture was taken in our house of Palmira after a lunch with my family.

Now I am in Idomeni,  surrounded by thousand of people of my country. Harsly I have realised that I became on what I studied in my school: a refugee. Throught history there have been many experiences with refugees. People from Sahara were forced to move to Algeria or many Spaniards scaped to other countries in Europe and to South America during the Spanish Civil War. They all moved for political reasons. I didn't leave my country because I was hungry, no. We scaped because they were bombing us and I saw thousands of dead bodies in the streets of my loved home city. This war started in 2011 when some people arose against the government of Bashar al-Ásad; then, the Civil War started and the destruction began. I can´t even explain the conflict properly, I´m only a teenager.

We were a middle class family. We were. Although we didn’t often speak about politics at home, my mom and all fer family was a defender of the president Bashar al-Ásad. She said that thanks to him and his father´s politics she could study at university and be, nowadays, a teacher. My dad was a little bit more sceptic. He and his family considered that we were living under a dictatorship. But now this arguments are really far, we only want to survive.

Idomeni is near the frontier with Macedonia. I don´t know how many people live here. This place is terribly big. Hell cannot be very different from this place where we are staying. We only have the potable water which the Greek NGO PRAKSIS brings us. Less than 2 litres for each family per day. I feel thristy now. 

This NGO defends the right of every refugee to enter and live in Europe, at least, until the war ends. They told us that a lot of people have protested to support us in many European cities, and the majority of food and clothes we receive comes from donations made by European citizens. We don’t have many food because we are a lot of people in this encampment but at least, I  have something to eat.

Me, wearing a green hiyab,trying to get some food that the
NGO PRAKSIS distributes among the refugees in Idomeni.

A men told me that he heard that the European Union decided that they were going to send 120.000 refugees to different countries in Europe. My cousin Hamza went to Pamplona in 2008 to study medicine and nowadays lives and works there. It would be a big help for us to be one of those refugees that the Spanish government said that was going to accept.  My cousin could help us to set up in the country and everything would be easier. But time goes by and it seems that we will never move from hell. I would love to go back to Palmira but I know that it´s an impossible dream.

I miss my friends, and it would be enough if I could only see a picture of them. I don’t even know if they are still alive or not and this scares me so much. This situation is terrible. I had a happy childhood. Do I deserve this?

The living conditions in Idomeni are really hard. Few time ago this was a fertile land and nowadays after the creation of this refugees camp and because of the pollution of different substances the land turned into a toxic dumping site. The tents, the health centers and the “houses” are built in the mud. Humidity is terrible. Summertime will arrive soon and then insects will appear. A friend I made here got very sick last week and the doctor said that the only thing that he could do was to give her antibiotics and send her back to the dirty tent.

The tent where my family lives in the green one,

behind the child "playing" in the puddle.

We only know the news that the volunteers tell us and they seem bad. An agreement between EU and Turkey was approved to chase us out. I am scared. In Idomeni they haven´t repatriated anybody yet, but we heard that they will start to deport some people to Turkey soon. 

Dear friend, if you read this, please, help us. I don´t know how, but do something. I beg you. My name is Houda, but my name could be yours. My country was in peace 5 years ago and now it´s completely destroyed. Will you be the next? 

But I still keep the hope. Nothing could become worse.

This is a story that we made up to try to explain the situation of a refugee of our age and the living conditions that she or he has to suffer. We think that it is important to make people aware of this reality that is happening near our comfortable sofa. 

This text has been written by Maitane Eleta, Endika Matxin, Usua Lizarraga, Alodia Guallar and Jon Garcés (DBH4) for the Diario de Navarra´s journalism contest about refugees.