About Refugees, By Refugees

Bayan Agha
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“When I was in the country and the war started, and I knew I would leave, my dream was that this situation wouldn’t take long, and I would return as soon as possible,” recalls Bayan Agha (34), who left her home country of Syria for Turkey in 2013. Leaving loved ones behind was hard, she says, and so was the lack of security she felt initially: “You’re constantly building on shifting sands, no matter what.” Now, a decade on and a Turkish citizen, she also feels that her experience has taught her a lot: “I built many experiences, met a lot of people, developed a lot, and learned many things.” In Syria, she studied architecture but in Turkey, getting a work permit in her field proved a challenge. Instead, she founded YOLO Art Center, a refugee-run cultural and artistic space that caters to Arabic speakers. Her dream now is for the center “to succeed, grow.” On a personal level, “I wish to understand myself, have some tranquility, and be able to draw. This is the life I dream of.”
full interview
Hello. Hello.
Welcome.
What is your name?
Bayan Agha
Okay, I will explain the topic to you a bit. It’s a project called “One Thousand Dreams, A Thousand Dreams.” The idea of the project is to tell a thousand stories about a thousand refugees. But this time, instead of having journalists or non-refugees conducting the interviews, it’s the refugees themselves who are interviewing another refugee. They make interviews. So storytelling comes through the Refugee himself. So, I think the interviewer will understand what the refugee is talking about. The organization conducting this project is called “Witness Change.” If we continue this audio recording, are you allowing them to use the photos we took or the interview? The interview won’t be spread as audio but will be distributed as written paragraphs summarized from this audio. If we continue this recording, you agree to give the rights to Witness Change to use them on any platform, whether it’s National Geographic, Time Magazine, or others.
Okay, I agree.Thank you for hosting and the idea is really great.
Okay, sorry, let me fix this just to avoid microphone issues.
Are you still recording?
Yes, yes, I’m recording. Bayan, first, tell me about yourself in one sentence or briefly. Who is Bayan?
What do you mean by “about myself”? This is already a complicated question.
I mean, who are you?
Well, there are many answers to who I am in life, who I am as I see myself deep inside. Can you explain more?
Okay, I understand. I won’t ask this question, it’s spontaneous. Alright, first, I want to inquire about your residence. Where do you currently live?
I live in Istanbul.
I mean what type of housing do you live in?
I live in a house. You can say it’s on the ground floor. There are Two rooms and a living room, and I live alone.
Have you had any problems with neighbors, and can you tell us about the house conditions?
Currently, there are no problems. Actually, I’m always working, so I don’t spend much time at home. I don’t have time to know its problems, positives, and negatives. But in general, I haven’t been here for a long time; I was in another house for a while. This house is new to me, so I can’t judge it yet. But if I want to talk about my experience in the previous house, it was nice. The neighbors were kind, and it was a nice area. In general, I’m not a person who stays at home much, so I can’t evaluate my life.
But are you comfortable at home?
It is almost yes.
You are satisfied and grateful.
Yes.
Do you like the house?
Well, I don’t like it that much because it’s on the ground floor, I wish it was the first or second floor so that sunlight could enter. I also wish it had a view.
Your house doesn’t get sunlight?
It doesn’t get any sunlight, nor does it have a view.
And with whom do you live?
I live alone.
Okay, how do you spend your time here, do you work?
Yes, I have a project.
Which is?
Yolo Art Center. It is a cultural and artistic project in Istanbul.
Is it my favorite project. Well, would you like to explain a bit about Yolo Art Center or your work?
The project is, first of all, I have a project partner. I am not alone. We are two people, and my project partner is Syrian as well. We wanted to create a cultural and artistic project in Istanbul because there is no project that caters to Arabic speakers throughout Istanbul on this level. So, we wanted to create something like a platform where people can develop themselves, see themselves, meet other people, and share things they love. Most of the communication is in Arabic, but of course, there’s English and a bit of Turkish. The project is housed in a three-story independent building. The entrance is a cafe where we usually host social events. Think of it as a salon or a more intimate workhouse. The basement is a stage that accommodates around sixty people. We host live music, stand-up comedy, open mic and competitions. The first floor is dedicated to courses and workshops. We offer various courses. In general, our idea was to create a place where people can come together, showcase their talents, and develop any talent they have if they want to.
From my knowledge, I know that YOLO has a lot of refugee communities, and the appealing idea is that both you and your partner are refugees. Both of you have also started a project for refugees. Do you feel that if we talk a bit about the community around you, most of them are refugees? Do refugees connect with each other? In my interviews, people often tell me that it’s challenging to have Turkish friends and they tend to make friends from their community. It’s similar to the case where people with common background usually form a group. Do you also experience this?
It depends on each person and what they do, what kind of work they’re involved in. For instance, if someone is studying at a Turkish university, they will likely have a community, to some extent, with Turks. If someone is working with Turks, it’s obligatory for them to have a community with Turks. But overall, if we talk about YOLO, our community mainly consists of refugees. When we decided that the project would be in the Arabic language, most of the Arabs here are refugees, whether from Syria, Egypt, Lebanon, countries that generally have conflicts or internal issues. A small percentage of Arabs here are tourists or individuals who chose to be here. Most Arabs here are refugees, but what distinguishes YOLO is that there are no other projects like it. People feel compelled to gather here because there are no other options first, and that’s the goal of the project secondly. In the end, as much as one has relationships with different nationalities, they still feel the need to speak in their own language, to share with people who understand their background and have common memories in some way. If we talk about art and culture, expressing oneself is easiest in one’s own language.
That’s a very nice idea, a cultural and artistic center run by refugees. The project itself has a great concept, and I personally like it a lot. Alright, moving on to the next question: what are the things that make you happy?
Throughout my day or in general?
In general and during your day.
Throughout the day, honestly, I’m very much involved in Yolo. I can say that my enjoyment comes from being in that space. I find joy in seeing someone working on something, being happy, or expressing themselves. We also organize events, and I feel a sense of accomplishment when I see the project evolving and people expressing themselves. Certainly, this contributes to my happiness. Aside from the project, my life is mostly work, and I don’t have many other activities.
Do you have any hobbies?
Yes, I love to draw a lot, but I don’t have time for it. I also love to be in nature, go camping, and travel, but I don’t have time for these things. So, if you ask me what I love, I love the life that is quieter than my usual life, which is the opposite of the life I lead.
What does this thing make you feel?
I feel like I don’t have solutions. In the end, I can’t spend my life just living by myself. I usually think of living the peaceful life, drawing and being in nature all the time, and such things. But I realize that there’s nothing like that, you’re obliged to keep running all the time to achieve something. Of course, in the end, if you have a goal, you have to keep running to achieve it. But, in general, these are choices, and I have chosen this path; the constructive path.
The idea that you’re working all the time, and the life you’re currently living, is not the life you aspire to, but rather a path that will lead you to the life you envision, is that correct?
Yes.
Is this your plan?
Yes.
How does this make you feel?
It makes me feel that I am trying to establish and work on myself for a certain period until later on I feel that things might become easier or that the things I want to do could be easier. But talking about refugees, this is part of our lives anyway. Basically, the idea that suddenly you feel a certain security in your country with your family and rely on it with your people at a young age, then you go out, and you feel that there is nothing, not even your family, they are even now depending on you. So the idea that this reality suddenly flips.
Do you feel a lack of security?
Definitely, I mean this lack of security might make you work hard to build and construct to feel of safety and stability in a certain period in your life.
What other difficulties do you feel beside the lack of security?
Difficulties?
I mean the difficulties you feel beside the lack of security.
Yeah, I can’t say that the difficulties I’m currently facing are just the lack of security. I’m talking about the first phase that doesn’t allow someone to move when they arrive in another country. Now, my difficulties are different because I’ve been abroad for ten years, so the situation now is completely different.
How has life been since you came to Turkey until now? In which year did you come to Turkey?
I came to Turkey in March 2013.
You have been here almost more than ten years. How has life been in Turkey, give me a quick feedback if you can?
Well, the situation is tough and exhausting, but it teaches you a lot. It’s diverse and builds a varied experience, but a significant part of anything I say is based on my personal experience. People are different, so, in the end, my choices led me to this place.
We are talking about your personal experience. What were the good things in this experience, and what were the bad things?
The good things are that I built many experiences, met a lot of people, developed a lot, and learned many things. I don’t feel that the ten years I’ve spent here constitute a single life because it has done a lot of things. I feel it’s more than a life. This is something I love; some people might see it negatively, but for me, I feel like I gave these ten years their due, I gave my life its due, and that’s in terms of positives. The negatives are that you always feel threatened, not knowing where you’ll be tomorrow. You’re constantly building on shifting sands, no matter what. Even the project I’ve opened now involves a significant risk, and there’s no solid foundation to walk on. However, since I got citizenship about a year and a half ago, I felt that I could do something here, and the idea of implementing the project emerged. So, there’s fear and many negatives, but in the end, since we came here against our own will, the idea itself is negative regardless of the rest.
How does this make you feel?
What makes me feel?
That you came here against your will.
I mean, I would say that I am grateful for the experience, but, yeah, it makes you feel a sense of not belonging. You feel like you don’t belong. Even if you go back to your country, you feel like you don’t belong there because you’ve also built a life in another country. So, you feel like you’ve lost the sense of belonging forever. Maybe you won’t feel that sense of belonging again.
Do you feel the sense of not belonging is one of the difficulties?
It’s not just a matter of difficulty, but let’s say belonging is one of the basics that one can build their life upon, like stability and security, so it’s a crucial pillar that’s missing.
This makes sense.
And, of course, I’m not talking about national belonging or belonging to something else. I’m talking more about a sentimental sense of belonging.
Was your family with you when you came here?
My family left before me. I left after graduating, so I was determined to finish my university. I left about a year after them.
Are they with you now?
My mom and dad are in Bursa, not in Istanbul.
How do you feel about leaving your old home? You can answer in the way that makes you more comfortable.
I’ll answer in a way that comforts me, but you’re asking me about something old. I haven’t thought before about how I felt when I left my home ten years ago, but it left a very significant impact, especially since I rely on psychotherapy sessions, and they used to tell me during them that my subconscious mind feels, at some moment, that I will return. But I never felt this, so I struggled until I could get rid of this idea. Certainly, it wasn’t an easy thing. The feeling I remember the most is the difficulty of leaving people inside the country. The hardest feeling is when you go out to the street and look at your family and friends as if you are the one who left to survive and save himself, leaving them behind.
How do you feel when you think about that?
I feel that I abandoned them.
Does the feeling come to you that this decision is bad or that it is not a bad decision?
I hope I can offer something, that’s the feeling, simply. Or I hope that we all can get out .
But It’s beyond your control.
I wished I could take everyone with me and leave together, but when you find yourself the only one who left and there are people still sleeping in the streets under bombardment, and the roads tell the story of everything that happened with destruction and barriers, you wonder, what’s next?
Did you expect this to happen to you at all?
Certainly, I did not expect that, especially in this era. I expected such things to happen when there was no internet, no openness to the world, and people did not know any news, like in the 80s, where news was only a picture or a video. But for this to happen in this era is illogical. The news reaches the world the moment it happens, and there is nothing hidden. What happened is considered illogical in this era, just like what happened with COVID-19. No one can comprehend that, in this era, COVID-19 occurred, and no one believes the idea of closing the world for two years due to COVID-19. The same thing happened to us.
When you came to Turkey, what plan did you set for yourself? Or what skills did you bring with you?
The skills I brought with me differ from the plan I set for myself. What is the question?
I would like you to tell us about the strategy that brought you to this point, whether this strategy is a skill or something else.
Well, first, I tried to work with what I know and within my field of study. I studied architecture, and I really love it, and I am creative in it. So, I tried to work in it here, but I couldn’t because as engineers, we are not allowed to work in Turkey.
Why are you not allowed to work in Turkey?
They don’t give work permits, neither for engineers nor for doctors. You have to either re-study here or take a Turkish language exam, which is very difficult for someone who has just arrived here. So, I tried to work here in the black market, as they call it, and the salaries were very low with a certain limit. I worked for about a year, but I told myself I don’t want to work illegally, so I shifted to another field that resembled me, resembled my architectural engineering background, and matched my personality, which is art. I decided to enter this field, learn, explore what I love, and what I can contribute. I started in the media field, and my experiences evolved from one job to another. Then I worked with organizations, and later, I came up with the idea in my mind that my leaving my country and being here should be a motivation to do something and help everyone. My focus is on refugees because it’s a common issue, especially when people got tired of our cause. In general, my focus is on the refugee issue, and I want to help anyone regardless of his nationality. But I can’t do it alone because I’m an individual and don’t have an organization. I can’t work like large institutions and governments. So, I do things in my own way, and I felt that art is an easier and more sincere key that can connect with people , so I decided to start this project
What are the strengths that Bayan possesses?
First, I learn much quickly. I have high emotional and social intelligence. I’m also good at communication skills. I feel that I’m close to people, so I can build somewhat healthy relationships, and I work on myself a lot.
What challenges does Bayan face?
The biggest challenge now is to make the project continue because it’s a very difficult project.
Why is it considered difficult for the project to continue?
Because we are in a country that doesn’t support such projects. Usually, this kind of work is done by organizations and large institutions, not individuals. We are not funded. The money we collected during the ten years through our work, I used to work almost sixteen hours a day. With the savings from those years, we opened the project in a country with a collapsed economy. Disasters happened from the moment we opened the project, earthquakes, elections, and more. A project like this is affected by anything. If there is a problem in another country, people become unable to focus on art and culture. With the economic collapse, people can barely afford the basics. So, the challenges of this project are very difficult.
Are the challenges of this project revolved around the economy of the country you are living in or the fact that the country does not support such projects?
Not only that, but the global economy collapsed after COVID-19. However, the economic situation in Turkey is very bad. The second thing is, I thought that projects like this without support would be easy because the community would support, but the community itself is unable to support due to its own difficult situation. This is the challenge because everyone’s situation is bad, and this project needs support to continue. So far, we don’t know how to make this wheel keep turning, and that has been the struggle.
What about challenges in your personal life apart from work?
In my personal life, the biggest challenge is how to spend time with myself. There are things I feel I should think about, and I don’t have the time for them. As a person who runs all the time, I wish I could calm down a bit. I don’t have this luxury now. I wish I had time for my personal life because I don’t have a personal life. I don’t have many friends, not because I don’t have friends, but because I don’t have time for them. I can’t see my family much because I can’t travel to Bursa frequently. Even if they come here, I can’t see them much.
How does it feel not to have time for the things you want to do?
I tell myself that this is a building phase, and I have to work hard on myself until things ease up over time. But the problem is, things keep getting hard, and I’ve reached a stage where I don’t understand what to do. Previously, I had a feeling that if I worked hard for a while, things would ease up later. I’m not talking about a life of luxury, sitting and doing nothing, because that lifestyle does not align with my personality. But I want there to be a balance between my personal and professional life, and in that balance, I have goals I’m trying to achieve, whether for my professional or personal life. However, life now takes me from one difficulty to another because of my choices. I’m not saying everything happened suddenly, but everything happened because of my choices. However, the choices I make now, my aim is not to make my life harder, but it’s getting harder involuntarily within all these struggles.
Why did you leave your country? Because of the war?
Yes.
How did you come here?
I came here by a private car from my city, Aleppo, to Ghazianteb . I stayed in Ghaziainteb for a while, then I moved to Bursa, and finally to Istanbul.
How was the journey?
I was in Raqqa in the last year, in a country where ISIS was present. I am originally from Aleppo, but due to the bombings, our main university branch in Aleppo was destroyed, so we moved to Raqqa. The main branch of the university was close to Aleppo.
You were at a university, and the university was destroyed due to the war. You moved to another city where ISIS was present, the terrorist group?
I didn’t transfer to the university; the university transferred us to its other branch because the main building near Aleppo was destroyed in the bombings and collapsed. I was in my final year at university, and I went to Raqqa, where ISIS had taken control after fighting against Al-Nusra Front. During these events, we lacked communication for about 20 days or a month, and no one knew anything about us. Even the roads were cut off, and we couldn’t leave the city or talk to anyone. We faced many risks from bombings and taking refuge in shelters, and many of our friends died. However, I was determined not to leave the city until I obtained my university degree because I believed the certificate was the only thing that could save me so I could continue somewhere else. Of course, I benefited from my studies in general, but the certificate never really helped me.
How did this experience make you feel?
I don’t know how to feel because I am actually now enjoying what I do.
What made you feel that you were expecting something, and it turned out to be the opposite?
At first, it was very challenging, especially since I went through long periods of depression. In the first year I came here, I never left the house. I was not accepting the idea at all. I thought we would stay here for a while and then return. I was waiting for this period to pass so we could go back to Syria. After a year of being here, I stopped watching the news, listened to everything, and saw how life works here. At the beginning, everything was difficult, and we didn’t know how to start. We didn’t know the language, and here in Turkey, they don’t speak English. Everything was new here, even the metro, which was not present in Syria.
We consider these stories as hardships.
Yes, suddenly you find yourself taken to a very different place, and you have no idea about it. No one gave you a catalog.
Among the difficulties, there was the difference in language and culture. What else?
Just the difference in language. Our culture is close to the Turkish culture. There’s a difference in the language and the way they live. They have technology and enormous transportation networks. As for us, we only had very modest buses. We didn’t have a metro or tram. We don’t use. bank transfers in Syria, while everything depended on banks here in Turkey, and everything related to life was new. We were exposed to a lot of scams, made many mistakes, and lost a lot of money because there was no one to guide us. At the same time, there was no common language for communication, as I mentioned before.
During the journey from Syria to Turkey, is there an experience you went through that you can share with us?
During my arrival here, I did not go through any experiences. I paid a substantial amount to take a safe route, and every place we stopped at, I had to pay large sums to proceed. The journey was not challenging; it was costly. However, I faced other difficulties, such as the presence of ISIS. When I traveled from Raqqa to Aleppo or when I presented my exams from Aleppo to Raqqa, there was significant danger, especially when ISIS took control of Raqqa. At that time, I wanted to discuss my graduation project, and that day marked my last day at the university, as I only wanted to defend my project. The remaining exams were easy to submit. The most challenging part was nearing completion. When I came to Raqqa, it was under the control of Jabhat al-Nusra (Al-Nusra Front). I then went to Aleppo, printed my project, and returned to Raqqa, while everyone else was leaving Raqqa. We were the only bus going in the opposite direction. So, the bus driver stopped, and during that time, we could see the airstrikes, but we didn’t know what was happening or even what ISIS meant. We were the first to recognize and witness them. The bus driver stopped and told us he didn’t know what was happening. There were no communications in Raqqa, and phones were rarely available. There was also no internet. He suggested that if we wanted to continue the journey, he could, but in his opinion, we should go back. He asked people leaving the city about the reason for their departure. We were undecided about whether to continue or return. Typically, the road from Aleppo to Raqqa takes an hour or an hour and a half, but that day, the journey took 10 hours. Many people on the bus were faced with the choice of whether to continue the journey. I didn’t understand much; I was a young student with some friends from the university. The majority decided to continue the journey, while some chose to go back. I was among those who decided to continue because I had set a goal to finish my university project. As we approached the city, the situation became more dangerous, and several times, shells fell around us. We had to take dirt roads to escape. A private car came in front of us to open the dirt road, allowing our bus to pass. We were afraid that the bus might tilt or flip while driving on the uneven terrain. Eventually, we reached a point where the driver told us he couldn’t continue, asking us to disembark and continue on foot. We found ourselves in the middle of nowhere, not knowing our exact location. The sight of people leaving was terrifying. People were carrying their belongings and mattresses, running in panic. At that time, ISIS had control over the city, and their presence was frightening. We didn’t understand who they were, so we ran immediately towards shelters.
How the shelters looked like?
The shelters were under hotels. Raqqa is considered more rural; it’s a city, but with an old-fashioned style closer to the countryside, so they didn’t have shelters. However, the large new hotels had shelters, and we gathered in them. On the second day, I discussed my project under the bombardment, then we fled. Some people managed to leave, while others couldn’t.
Did you return afterward?
I never returned.
Did you stay in Raqqa?
No, I didn’t return to Raqqa.
I mean, did you return on the same day?
No, not on the same day. We stayed hidden in Raqqa for four or five days. Because we were hiding together, and the situation was very dangerous, the university professors knew that we had one day left in the university to finish our studies. Despite being under bombardment and in shelters, they proceeded to evaluate our graduation projects. If the project was successful, the student would graduate. This was because they were aware that once we left Raqqa, we wouldn’t return, and our education would come to an end.
How did this make you feel?
It was a terrible feeling and a bad experience on all levels. At the same time, it was frightening to witness this level of destruction and see people taking over your country who don’t speak your language at all. I don’t know what language they were speaking. They looked Iranian, not Arab. I’m not sure about their origins. Those who spoke Arabic spoke in formal language (Fusha), and their appearance was even scarier because they had very long beards, colored in red for some reason. They spoke to us in formal Arabic, making you feel like you’ve become part of the Quraysh tribe 1500 years ago, wearing strange long attire with wide trousers, all heavily armed. Their treatment was very bad; they took down the young men with us, beat them, and robbed them, especially those from Latakia or the coastal areas. It was a journey of survival from death. This wasn’t the first time, but it was the hardest thing. After that, my friends who decided to return when things calmed down a bit, and ISIS took over Raqqa, experienced very bad things. For example, it was forbidden for a guy to walk with a girl. We originally had a mixed university, and the girls started wearing all black, covering their faces, just to complete the remaining duration of their studies at the university. Some people still had a semester or two left, and the university was still operating.
Did some people continue their studies?
Yes, they were forced to do so. ISIS took control of the university first because it was on the highest point. If we imagine the university as a mountain and Raqqa as a plain, the university overlooked everything and was well-serviced since it was a private university. They took it over first thing and then moved the university to other buildings. The university became just a regular building, so they could complete the academic year, but after that, they stopped the studies.
Did the university stop operating?
It was transferred to another city.
To be honest, the story you shared is very interesting, and during that time when you knew there was a war and you were going to leave the country, what were your dreams at that moment? I’d like you to start your answer with a sentence like “When I found out about the war and that I was leaving, my dream was…”
When I was in the country and the war started, and I knew I would leave, my dream was that this situation wouldn’t take long, and I would return as soon as possible. I thought it was something temporary. I lived for a whole year with the mindset that it was a temporary life because I believed we would go back, especially since we left everything, even the essential things we could have taken with us, we didn’t. I thought everything would return because we had established our lives well in the country. Before leaving my university, my office was there. So, I believed, before the revolution happened, in the last year of my university, that I would open a training office, and I had a plan based on which I would continue my life. I had envisioned my life accordingly.
And this, what made you feel?
At that time, I felt hopeful that the war would end, but later on, you reach a stage where you realize there is a bigger reality than just waiting because things become more challenging and complicated. Ultimately, there’s a logic, and when you feel that stories should move forward, not the other way around, a reality check hits you, and this reality check makes you live through collapses.
I want you to explain more about this reality check.
It makes you live conflicts between the ideas and dreams you built and your past until the age of 23 in a certain format and shape. Now, suddenly, I find myself in a place where I have to rearrange all of that in a different way, and I have no idea about this place; it is actually unknown. I only know that I’m in a country called Turkey, and I am a refugee with a card that allows me to do certain things and restricts me from others. I only have this information, so you find yourself having to rebuild everything from scratch.
Before the war, What was your dream?
Before the war, my dream was to excel in the specialization I studied. My aspiration was to achieve something significant in it, and I was striving towards that, making progress and accomplishing something good professionally. However, aside from work, when I settled here, my dream was to travel. I really loved the idea of traveling. I used to say that I would be in a job I love, one that brings in a good income, making it easy for me to travel. Traveling, in itself, is both an experience and a school. That’s how life was sufficient for me. But I never dreamed of having a family because I have long been opposed to the idea of having children. I don’t dream of having a family, but I dream of having a partner or someone by my side, living a pleasant relationship with him. I don’t reject that, but I am not accepting of forming a family with children, a house, and such. I want to travel; I don’t want to be tied down to something else.
When you tell me this story, what do you feel?
Certainly, this thing saddens me. I feel a completely distant second life, and I admit that this is a challenging experience, even more challenging than continuing one’s life in a normal way. How do we go through all of this and then continue our lives as usual, building, dreaming, and establishing? That’s how I see the story. But, in reality, I went through with it, perhaps because of time, or the other dreams we built, or the life we strive to live. In the end, you only live once.
In that case, is there still something affecting you to this moment? Meaning, without that experience you went through, would you be the same person today?
Certainly, the shock from that reality itself is a significant thing.
Does it still impact you up to this time?
Certainly, because you start to feel a lack of security. Illogical things become logical, and injustice becomes a norm. There are many equations, as a child or as someone restarting life, where you feel it should be easy – the oppressed getting their rights, and the oppressor facing consequences. There are rights, and everything is ruled under laws. Then you discover that there are things bigger than that, moving everything, and ultimately, you have to accept the solutions imposed on you without having a say in it.
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The pressure lasted only for 5 or 6 days. I was in Raqqa a week before these events, living there for months, and those 5 days were the toughest period.
My question is about your overall situation, the state you were in before coming here, the state of war. Did you ever imagine surviving it in the first place?
Not necessarily. Like anyone else, I didn’t expect to survive. Many people didn’t survive, and their numbers are not small. However, luck was with me as I made decisions faster than others, and perhaps luck was on my side to save me from a certain fate because I was also in areas that were not 100% safe, meaning they were dangerous zones.
Another question, what were your strengths before the war?
My personality hasn’t changed from what I mentioned earlier. I work very hard on myself, learn quickly, and have high communication skills. The strengths themselves haven’t changed; I haven’t become a different person. Instead, I continue to work on myself, and the things I am skilled at, I still do them. The war shocked me on the level of ideas and changed my perspective on the equations of life, as well as my general view of humanity—what is good and what is evil. However, the core of who I am has not changed. My strengths have not changed, but I have changed; there are aspects of me that have changed.
The thing you went through was undoubtedly very difficult, but I believe that even in such hardships, there are positive things to be learned. Can you mention any positive aspects, if any?
It’s impossible to find positive things in war.
What about your experience?
The only positive thing, if I want to see it as positive, is that I expanded my horizons beyond the place I was in. Consequently, I gained a broader experience. Turkey, for instance, has a much larger area and population compared to Syria, several times over. So, naturally, you gain a larger experience from a country with 85 million people compared to a country with 25 million. This, in itself, is an experience. Additionally, learning about the country’s details, its laws, how people coexist here, the diversity of nationalities and their experiences, and the greater opportunities in this country compared to where I was before, all of these are positive aspects.
What is your dream now, Bayan?
Do you mean away from Yolo?
Whatever you want.
Honestly, I feel that I don’t have many requirements or complicated expectations. I don’t have impossible dreams. Instead, I dream of doing something I believe in and love. Currently, I’m involved in art and community, giving something to people and taking from them as well.
We can say that your dream is a nice social situation within a specific community and has an artistic orientation.
The idea isn’t like that. If I hadn’t been exposed to the asylum experience and hadn’t lived in a country with a large number of refugees, this wouldn’t have been my goal. However, now, amid all the difficulties people face here and the harsh experiences they’ve been through, especially when I hear about someone who was detained, it makes me think about how these people managed to survive such difficult experiences in our prisons. I wonder if I can give them something positive. For me, if I can do something, I feel that there’s a sense of security that I’m trying to create for these people.
Is your dream for this plan to succeed?
My dream is for this plan to succeed, grow, and actually become what I am currently talking about. Beyond the difficulties of paying rent, salaries, and other things much more distant from what I’m discussing. On a personal level, as I mentioned, I love traveling. I hope to have the ability and time to travel, meet new people, explore new places, and have time to be alone with myself. I wish to understand myself, have some tranquility, and be able to draw. This is the life I dream of. I don’t have many dreams; I don’t know if these dreams can be considered many.
Part of these things is considered wishes, and part is a dream.
I don’t know if my dreams are difficult. I don’t consider them difficult, but for someone else, what I’m saying might be considered challenging. Some people only dream of having food, drink, and sleep, for example.
It is within a person’s right to dream of what they want. The last and most important question: is there any additional information you would like to add that wasn’t mentioned in the interview? You understood the direction and purpose of the interview, so if there is any additional information that should have been mentioned, I hope you share it with us.
There’s something or an idea I’m contemplating. People seem to be tired of refugee stories, especially Syrians, as our issue has become old. At the same time, if someone wants to complain to you every day, you’ll get tired of them. People have reached this point, but they’ve forgotten that the conditions of refugees are very difficult, and everything that happens to them is not fair. The difficulty is not in being a refugee; I don’t have a problem if a person is a refugee but has human rights. The difficulty arises when you are treated solely as a refugee. I feel that people have become tired, and in the future, they might become even more tired, even though refugees need simple things that could be easily overlooked. These people may be forgotten over time because continuing becomes challenging. So, I hope people don’t lose hope in this matter. I hope that anyone, from their position, can do anything, whether small or large, or even just say a word or listen to us because sometimes people need someone to listen to them. There is an event in Yolo called “Let’s Listen to Each Other.” I believe in this idea, where we turn off the lights, sit with candles, and people start talking because this is crucial. I hope everyone from their position does something, and I hope we meet in a fairer, kinder, and more beautiful world.
Very beautiful, thank you.
Thank you, the project is very nice, and I wish you success.
Thanks for your genuine and profound words, and thank you for the comfort and trust. Thank you for this.
Thank you.
Thanks for your kind participation.
Merci.
Many 1000 Dreams interviews were not conducted in English. Their translation has not always been performed by professional translators. Despite great efforts to ensure accuracy, there may be errors.