The Distant War
My mom has a photo of my uncle with me and my brother. We look young. This was before the war, when he visited us in Australia.
Before my family came, we lived in a four-story house in Syria. My extended family of 10 lived in the house. My father was born in Jordan. My mother is Syrian, and as a family we have lived in Australia for 12 years.
My parents and I left Syria when I was three. We haven’t visited Syria due to the war. The last time I saw my cousins and grandparents was two years ago in Jordan. One uncle and three cousins returned to Syria to fight against the government. Some were killed by bombs; some were shot. I still have more family in Syria who are unable to leave.
In Jordan, my family says they’re only living to live. They are unable to enjoy life, for they have no freedom. They are refugees.
Two years ago, when was 14, we visited Jordan. I hadn’t seen these family members since I was three. Most of the family greeted us at the airport, coming by bus. Some traveled from Karak to the capital city in Amman, a two hour drive.
My Syrian cousins living in Jordan receive 10 Australian dollars per week from their jobs. It’s not enough. My parents send them around $300 dollars whenever they can, to help them survive.
They only want the best for me and my siblings, helping us to grow up and be successful. They don’t want us to rely on others to make a living.
My father loves experimenting with cooking, going to new places and giving us new experiences. It makes me feel connected, loved, and inspires me to try new things.
My mother loves to joke, just like my dad, but she is a more serious person who prefers consistency in life. And in cooking. They balance each other.
One of the new places we went was strawberry picking on the 15th of October. It helped my mum forget about her brother and nephews in Syria, the ones who were killed.
Maysoun Tarawneh
Age 16
Born in Jordan
