From safety to depression

Scrolling through Facebook has become more than a habit. Rather, it is an unconscious act I perform every morning, just like washing my face to wake up or making coffee to start my day. I tap my finger on the dark blue app to see what my day will be like. What news awaits me today? Each time, I am almost certain that the situation will be worse than last time.

A few months ago, the first news of the day made me feel extra sad. I felt a stab in my heart, my eyes filled with tears and my body shuddered. Six Syrian boys died in Germany, as a result of a heart attack or stroke. They were all between 20 and 30 years old. Is that understandable? Is that acceptable? Why were these boys torn away in the prime of their lives? Is it acceptable that their flight from death became their death!

These boys had fled their countries for a variety of reasons, not all of which I will discuss here because they have now become common knowledge. The main reason is safety. All these boys had families, acquaintances, friends, lovers, fellow students and colleagues. Their lives were full of events and filled with life. And for those who know nothing about Arab society or, more specifically, Syrian society: it is a society based on family ties.

Family bond

The family always remains present in the life of every family member. In most cases, children continue to live in the parents' house even after they turn 18, until they get married. Then they fly out to start their own families and live their own lives. And even after moving out, the family remains in constant contact with all relatives. Generally, all family members meet at least once a week at the mother and father's house. The children and grandchildren and even their friends are together then. This strengthens the bond and shows the importance of the family in their lives.

So much for the family. As for friends - if you wanted, you could be surrounded by friends every day. Once you send a message via WhatsApp and suggest the plan to get together, it is possible no matter what time of day or where you are at the time. For instance, you can meet at a café or in the park or even at someone's home. We all know the importance of having friends in our lives.

It is normal and not unusual or embarrassing to ring the doorbell of one of your neighbours and ask if you can come in to have some coffee together or to ask, for example, if you can borrow some bread or sugar or something else because you no longer have it yourself. The gathering of family, friends, acquaintances and neighbours is part of everyday life. No importance is attached to appropriate times or privacy. It will be clear that this habit, like any habit, has advantages and disadvantages.

The curse began to do its devastating work and war broke out. The travelling and fleeing began. Families fell apart. Rarely do you find another family in which at least one person has not fled. I am not going to dwell too much on the problem of families falling apart and its negative impact on the family members left behind, but I am going to talk about those who emigrated... Fled away from the hell of war to another hell!

Arrival in Europe

Everyone has a fantasy consisting of beautiful images of a Europe that will welcome them with open arms and give them the life they have longed for for so long. I am not going to talk about the difficulties during the arrival or the flight journey known to everyone as the journey of death... To this day, whenever I hear a new story about the arrival of one of them, it seems as if I am watching a thriller or horror film or a drama film, or adventure or action or sometimes even a crime film. The events are talked about with a kind of irony, as if it were a movie, and not something the person has experienced themselves.

After arriving in the destination country, the story really begins: a new country, mostly cold, grey skies. There are almost no sun rays and no warmth. A new language of which we know a few words we looked up on Google. Strange faces whose expressions do not resemble what our eyes are used to. A real culture shock.

Here begins the journey no one could have prepared for. The procedures and investigations begin. It varies how long this process takes. Here begins the period of waiting, a period with a beginning but of which it is not certain when the end will be. A period of fear of the unknown, nostalgia for the past, an awareness of reality and thinking about the future begins. A state of confusion begins that no one has ever experienced before in their lives.

This confusion continues until the day of destiny arrives and temporary residence is provided. Then begins the second phase, which is markedly different from the first. The challenging phase of proving oneself begins. The person has to prove to himself and those around him that he is capable of integrating into the new society. Here we say he has to start all over again, from zero. And this zero point is not just finding a new study or a new job, or new friends and a nice environment. This zero point literally means zero. So regardless of who you were, what you had achieved, what you went through in terms of experiences and feelings, now you are far from what you know, who you were and what you went through.

The road to integration

You are a student again. You have to master a new language from A to Z. You are back to being a student after being a professor, for instance. Various designated authorities make quick attempts to integrate you into your new environment without regard to your cultural background or knowledge, but rather with the aim of implementing the integration project. It is up to you to accept and implement this. Often you start asking yourself: am I wrong or them? Is this really to my advantage or not?

The stages of loss also include listening to and paying attention to the experiences of others: “Don't start working until you have finished the language. Don't choose that field of study because you won't find a job in it. Your degree is suitable. Your degree is not suitable. That is a waste of your time and the many words that make the head reel and strain the body and weary the soul.”

Before, in normal life, we had family around us who could give us advice. And close friends who had your best interests at heart, with whom you could discuss and who could give you advice. Then you could decide for yourself what to do with that advice. But now we (myself and everyone else in the same boat) are responsible for our own choice. An important choice weighs on our shoulders. Fear of failure makes people unable to make a choice. I keep wondering if time is on my side. And can I really become what I want for myself? These questions keep swirling around in my head. Every time I have found the answer to a question, a new one appears, and then another, for eternity.

Contact with ‘the other’

I hear from people around me that I should not sit still for too long. I should get out of my house and mingle with people so that I get better at talking. That would be enough for me to live a normal life. Here I am. New to the apartment building I live in. I smile at everyone, to appear friendly. I get a nice feeling when someone smiles back at me. I take matters into my own hands and try to build a social life.

Several times I bumped into one of my second-floor neighbours at the entrance. I greeted him and he greeted back. He seemed nice and I thought we could become friends. As a first step to break my isolation, I gathered all my courage and decided to knock on his door to ask if we could have coffee together. Who knows, maybe I could prove to myself that I could integrate into this new society and make new friends.

After the second knock, he opened. He greeted me and I read astonishment on his face as I stood at his door with a stutter and asked how he was doing and quickly added what I had come for: “Shall we have coffee together?” He told me to wait a moment. Moments later, he returned with his phone in his hand. He said, “Yes, we can have coffee. On November 25 at quarter past six.” My head snapped up and my facial expression was strange. Should I smile now or keep looking the way I looked?

I didn't know if this was a joke or not. November 25 was two and a half months away. I imagined I could come in and, as my friends had advised me, start a conversation about the weather. Maybe he had a good reason for postponing the appointment or that was the way it should have been. Now I could organise my thoughts better and think out different conversations: what I would start with and what I would end with. In my country, these kinds of visits between neighbours take place daily, with no appointment or agenda.

Confusion, isolation and depression

This is where, as in this simple example, the confusion, isolation and depression begins.
I will not elaborate here on the scope and seriousness of the issue. I will content myself with acknowledging that it exists and that it is a big problem that requires a solution. And unfortunately, it is a big problem that depression and other mental illnesses fall under the “taboo” category and are hardly talked about.

Because anyone who has a mental illness is “crazy”, is what many say in our Arab countries. We do not have a culture of psychiatrists and psychologists in which mental illness is considered like any physical illness. Anyone can get it and needs a doctor or therapist to recover. When people do not take action, the problem starts getting bigger and bigger until it is almost uncontrollable. This whole story and explanation is a drop in the sea of what is happening to young people in the Diaspora.

Perhaps after reading this article, you have become aware of what is happening, its seriousness and the importance of talking about it. Maybe we can open our hearts to those who need us. Maybe we can listen to them a little better. Maybe we can be the medicine for those who are sick. Give from your heart, help each other, listen to each other, accept each other, and treat the other as you would like to be treated yourself. Only then can we speak of true security.

Cartoons: Esther van de Bund

This article was translated from Arabic by Janna Ondracek