By Reuben Brand
It was the middle of summer, the middle of Ramadan, most of the country was fasting, all of the country was thirsty and there was not a drink in sight for miles. “It’s so bloody hot!” I said aloud, as my friend and I trudged wearily beneath the 40 degree Syrian sky towards the ancient citadel in Aleppo.
Parched, we arrived and quickly found refuge in the shade of one of its giant walls, “there he is again,” I said, pointing to a little boy we had seen the day before. His big eyes seemed to be overflowing with an unquenchable sadness as they followed our every move.
He once again walked sheepishly back and forth, just as he had done the previous day, as if he was studying us as part of a school project – all the while, never taking his gaze off us.
He tentatively made his way closer and finally perched himself on the wall beside us. “Hi, my name is Hussein,” he said in Arabic, as a smile broke his solemn stare and lit up his now bright face.
We sat talking to Hussein for some hours, he was a skinny little thing and looked about eight years old, although he assured us he was 11. His tiny hands were covered in dirt all the way up to his long fingernails which were stained red from henna, his shirt and trousers were as dusty as the hot surrounding landscape and in need of a good wash, but despite his circumstances he seemed overjoyed to just sit and talk.
“Where do you live?” we asked, he told us he lived in a house and pointed vaguely towards the city.
“There are eight of us in my family, but I didn’t go home last night, I slept out here under the stars,” he said with a grin. Hussein later told us that he had run away from home and hadn’t been back for a long time, so every night he was on his own.
Hussein lives on the streets along with a motley crew of other young vagabonds and runaways, but he is different, not like the rest of them, who, as we sat, darted in and out of conversation – little Hussein possesses a strength of character and integrity the likes of which some people take years to acquire.
He began to tell us that he had been subject to some kind of medical operation, or something else which he didn’t really want to talk about, the meaning of which was either lost in translation or obscured by embarrassment and shame. I can only imagine that it must have been something of a terrible nature to make him run away.
At that point a man on a bicycle rode up and angrily chased Hussein off as if he were nothing more than a stray dog, to which Hussein responded and darted off at top speed. The man saw that we were foreigners and thought that he could sneak a quick cigarette with us away from the prying eyes of the rest of the people who were fasting during Ramadan. “Be careful of these street kids,” the man said gruffly, “they will try to trick you and steal form you.” He nervously finished his cigarette and went on his way. “If only he would talk to some of these kids and give them a chance, maybe he would learn a thing or two,” I thought to myself.
Not a moment had gone by when Hussein’s smiling face returned, he asked if we would like to come and see his garden and led the way to a small patch of grass behind a nearby mosque.
It was getting late and was time for us to go, we said our goodbyes but Hussein didn’t want to leave us, his big eyes became foggy and it seemed that a tear would strike his cheek at any moment.
“Are you hungry?” We asked. “No, no I have already eaten,” he told us. But we insisted and invited him to join us for dinner, again he declined saying that he had eaten a sandwich sometime earlier, today? Yesterday? He wouldn’t say. Finally the promise of an ice cold Pepsi was too good to resist and we all made our way up to one of the local restaurants.
We were a sight for sore eyes, little Hussein, my Italian friend Daniele and my unkempt Aussie self, quite the unusual trio. Curiosity got the better of all the waiters, other patrons and even the manager, but nevertheless we were seated and treated to a lovely meal, the waiters and manager giving special attention to our young friend.
We asked Hussein if he went to school, he said that he didn’t want to because if he completed his school diploma he would be sent into military service. I couldn’t believe that at such a young age Hussein was already worried of being sent into the military and would forgo any form of education just to escape it. Most other kids of his age are only concerned with playing soccer, the latest Playstation game and watching TV.
Conscription is a dread that faces every young male here, it reminded me of a conversation I’d had the night before with a young man who worked at the hotel we were staying at. “It is one of the toughest armies in the world, some people die just in the training – I really don’t want to go, it takes two years of your life away from you. The only good thing about it is that you go into the military like a mouse and if you survive, you come out as strong as a lion,” he said.
We urged Hussein to go back to school, and told him the importance of a good education and the opportunities that lay ahead for him if he studied hard. He said he didn’t know what he wanted to do when he grew up, but agreed none the less to go back to school and try.
With a full belly and a smile from ear to ear it was once again time to go. After a strong handshake from such a small hand he looked up at us, smiled and slipped away into the night. I stood and watched as his tiny figure disappeared into the darkness, wondering if I will ever see him again.
Adoption crossed my mind many times as I walked home, “Where is UNICEF? Where is Save the Children?” I thought to myself.
God only knows what will happen to little Hussein and the countless others like him, for my part, I will do all I can to make it back to Aleppo to check up on my new little friend as often as possible.
Reuben Brand is an Australian Freelance Journalist currently based in the Middle East. For more information please visit his website at www.reubenbrand.com
Julian said:
Oh dear, I’ll get labelled an ungrateful pariah now. But I have to say that I would like to see something harder hitting than a little prose about a kid that reminds me of thousands that I have seen around the world. Including Miami, Portsmouth, Birmingham, London, Jakarta, Kathmandu, Cairo, Colombo- and more recently Siam Reap.
I have seen children in Africa and the sub continent, covered in sores with trichoma, cataracts and deformities; barely subsisting.
What are the resolutions? And are we able to scratch the surface?
Is the giraffe-necked Assad any better than his father? Their country is rife with nepotism, just like most countries that still have divisions mired in their tribal evolutions.
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Reuben Brand said:
“an ungrateful pariah” au contraire my dear friend – you’re absolutely right. But you forgot Pakistan, Afghanistan, China, North Korea, Russia and just about every other place that is inhabited by humans. This is not an isolated event, it happens everywhere.
If little Hussein had lepracy, was covered in cataracts, was deformed, blind, had ebola or was straving, then that would be the story you would read – thank God he doesnt/isn’t.
I write about what I see – I don’t embelish or exaggerate – I leave that to “A Current Affair” and “Today Tonight.”
The solutions? Your guess is as good as mine, but as Edmund Burke once said “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.”
Is Syria really any worse than Australia in this regard? The state of our Indigenous communities are absolutely appauling – we have third world conditions in our very own backyard, but we choose to cast a blind eye towards it. It took us 250 years to say “sorry” imagine how long it will take us to actually DO something about it.
Thanks for your comments – keep em coming and dont worry, at least I don’t think you’re “an ungrateful pariah.” 😉
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Julian said:
Mmm, agreed Ebola is pretty bad. You probably wouldn’t be here.
I lived in Java as a child and went to school in Jakarta. but not all of my friends were from the fee paying school. I struck up friendships in the street, mainly through flying kites and playing marbles.
Children always feel equal. That is until differences are pointed out.
Saying sorry was important because it was beaten up to be important. It didn’t do harm, but probably didn’t do much good really.
My family and I were for the apology, as symbols are intrinsic to human culture- and probably Aborigines especially.
I haven’t really travelled around Australia in the 21 years that I have lied here; so I rely on word of mouth and literature to update me on Aborigines; and their culture.
It does seem crazy that we can’t assist them in ways that would complement their aspirations . And yet we give aid- and are settling new arrivals here every year, from other lands, importing diverse cultures, some with massive problems that we weren’t/are not aware of.
Back in London a few weeks ago I saw beggars in Moslem dress hanging around the underground stations.They were not there when I lived there 25 years ago.
This overcrowded, polluted, world needs a natural disaster….Oh, hang on a minute….didn’t I read about temperature or something?
Anyway Reuben, keep up the good work.
I’d love to know how Assad got his long neck. Is there a story there?
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Julian said:
Lied?? A Freudian slip?
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gerard oosterman said:
‘Ain’t got no cigarettes’.
Keep well, Warrigal.
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Diana said:
Way to go Reuben thanks for your writings from a far. This sadly reminds me of the plight of thousands of indigenous children right here in Australia, all with hungry bellies, all without education, all dealing with poverty, racism and isolation. Hope you are well mate, miss your face in Newtown.
Cheers
Diana
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Voice said:
God bless and keep you.
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gerard oosterman said:
It’s likely that there are several Husseins on the Oceanic Viking which our Government, out of the goodness of their hearts, refer to as ‘illegal’ refugees,
What a bummer Rudd turned out to be. The Indonesian Government has given Australia another week to come up with a solution. Who mentioned the three stars ‘floating resort’?
If only refugees could beach themselves disquised as whales.
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astyages said:
It IS a wonderful new invention, isn’t it, Gerard, the notion of ‘illegal’ refugees… Since refugees are, more often than not, flying from the high possibility of an imminent violent death this leaves them with the choice of either staying to face persecutioin and/or death or else risking the label, automatically applied, of ‘illegal refugee’. It says that essentially the status of being a ‘refugee’ is inherently illegal; another form of victim-blaming… all part of the ritual…
😐
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H said:
Because all the poor Husseins haven’t been wrapped in cottonwool, they have had to become street smart, and maybe they have also learnt to judge people, strangers, better than our carefully protected off-spring ever could, they have learnt to run away from paedophiles, and they know when to trust people, nice people like Reuben.
They might often go hungry, but at least there’s no chance of them becoming obese!
I hope Hussein goes back to school. I know life is not fair, but sometimes it just seems too unfair.
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Voice said:
I am as you would expect completely ignorant of the situation of street children in Syria in general and Aleppo in particular. But while it’s only natural to be concerned, we needn’t assume the worst of them.
It’s only human nature (the good side) for a Westerner to do as Reuben did and think about UNICEF, Save the Children, and even adoption. But what about their own national government, local government, and presumably Muslim, Christian or other local charitable organisations? The local church/mosque would be a contact point for possible resources, wouldn’t it?
Conscription sounds like a terrible shadow over their lives.
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Warrigal said:
Great shot too! Classic face, and the eyes, my goodness the eyes! That’s a little face that has learned to keep its own council.
I can’t help pondering on the central character in William Golding’s “Darkness Visible” He was lost boy too, appearing out of the devastation of the blitz.
You could turn this to a feature article Rube, no trouble. Middle class burgers reading the paper at their Sunday brunch would lap this up.
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Warrigal said:
Sorry, “burghers”. And sorry Rube. That’s the second time I’ve used the “Sunday burghers” allusion in reply to a piece of yours.
I need new writers.
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H said:
Warrigal, who are these rude Sunday burghers who are reading papers whilst having their brunch. What are the burghers going to work on Monday morning called?
Anyhow, all this talk about burgers/burghers has made me hungry for a home-made hamburger for my Sunday lunch.
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Warrigal said:
Ghandi once said that if God came again he better well turn up as food, or words to that effect.
Heart rending and warming piece Rube. I think we all probably want to adopt young Hussein.
On a dark note; what chance, after a life of deprivation and oppression, he turns into another bomber?
But then maybe he’ll always remember the infidels who fed him and treated him humanely.
We live in a stochastic universe.
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Reuben Brand said:
Thanks Waz,
If deprivation and oppression leads him to become “another bomber” then so be it… I pray it doesnt go that way – that said, I have become very sceptical with all these “bombers” especially with what is happening in Pakistan. The first rule of guerrilla warefare is to get the poeple on your side – the constant bombing of highly populated market places by so called “taliban” is just to much.
Last weeks blast in Peshawar killed well over 100 people, one of them a family member. This cannot be the work of Taliban – Taliban as I know them, fight for their country against external forces, sure they are nasty in thier methods, but so are the US – The people who commit these barbaric acts are nothing more than common criminals – I have heard countless eyewitness reports of external agencies ie India, US et al who fund these vile acts of terrorism in an attempt to further destabilise an already unstable region… Am getting slightly off track… Maybe this can be fodder for an upcoming P.A. exclusive.
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Warrigal said:
Sche and I have relatives in Iran. It’s often impossible to reconcile their sense of the place with the view put forward in the western press so you’ll get no argument from me on the proposition that all that is ascribed to the Taliban, Al Qaeda, Jemaah Islamiya, et al is not necessarily those organisations’ responsibility.
It takes little or no imagination to slate at least some of these criminal atrocities to operatives working from the dark heart of US hegemonic interest. Let alone the intelligence services of Israel, Syria, Russia, Iran…, how long is that list?
That having been said I believe the willful taking of life for any ideology to be the height of criminal insanity and surely must mark the individuals and the organisations in whose name they kill out for our special human opprobrium. No matter the ideology, no matter the paymaster.
There are times I despair, believe the centre will not hold, that we’re looking at some kind of fundamental paradigm shift, that humanity globally is in some kind of gran mal fugue and the terror is coming…….
……. but then Jimmy calls and I’m off. Going walkabout. Won’t be backs for a few weeks, “..No Phone, No Pool, No Pets. I ain’t got no cigarettes…”
Keep safe Rube. Keep it coming.
Piglets, I’m off for a bit. See ya!
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astyages said:
Nice story Reuben. I’m glad you fed him; he reminds me of someone I once knew… Pride can be counterproductive when one is hungry.
🙂
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H said:
What indeed will happen to young Hussein; there are so many like him in this world.
Very kind of you ,Reuben, to take interest him.
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