A Hope More Powerful Than the Sea(14)
As the sky darkened outside, Doaa went to switch on a lamp to brighten the room, but nothing happened. She tried two more lamps before realizing that the electricity had been cut off. Hanaa then went to the kitchen to make some tea, but only a few drops of water dripped from the spout; running water had also been shut off. Confused, she returned to the living room and gathered Hamudi into her lap as Doaa, Saja, and Nawara stared out the windows. They watched apprehensively as the soldiers outside seemed to settle in for a long stay, leaning against the tanks parked right outside the door. The family slowly began to realize that this situation could be more permanent than they had anticipated.
Shokri turned on their battery-operated radio and tuned in the news to learn more.
Daraa is under siege, the broadcaster announced. The army has been sent to root out the terrorists who are trying to destroy the country.
A cloud settled over the family as this news sank in and they began to wonder how this would affect their daily lives.
Later that night as the rest of the family went to sleep, Doaa lay awake, unable to ignore the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. She lay as still as she could and listened to the sounds of Saja and Nawara breathing deeply next to her, as the laughter and shouts of the soldiers echoed outside. Finally, she drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened at 4:30 a.m. by the alarm she had set to wake her for morning prayers. She reached out toward the clock, and just as her fingers pressed down on the button to shut off the alarm, the few lights that had been on when the electricity was cut flickered back on. The electricity must have been turned on again just at that moment when her alarm rang. Disoriented, Doaa sat on her bed for a moment, trying to gather her wits about her, then suddenly she heard screams and the rattle of gunfire in the street. Jolted alert by these disturbing sounds, Doaa dashed to the front window to find people running in the streets and the tanks moving. Ayat joined her at the window, and soon the whole family was gathered around, watching in terror as the security forces began to smash into people’s houses. Men and boys as young as eleven were being rounded up in the street and forced to put their arms behind their backs and to walk with their heads bowed. The soldiers shoved them into cars, shouting at them that they were terrorists.
Shaken by what they saw, Doaa’s family decided to turn to the Quran for comfort. They forced themselves away from the windows and gathered in the living room, trying to read their morning prayers together, as it dawned on them all that the siege would not end soon.
Later that morning, Hanaa began to plan how the family would get by on what she had in the kitchen—some leftover bits of cheese, yogurt, and salad in the refrigerator, along with a few things she kept in the cupboard: jam, pickles, olives, and some canned vegetables. She found a bag of rice, but remembered that there was no water to cook it with. On top of that, Ayat and her children still couldn’t go home, so the little food they did have would have to stretch to feed three more people. After taking stock, Hanaa quickly decided that the family would have to make do with only one small midday meal until they were able to leave the house again to gather more food.
At each meal, Hanaa did her best to portion out what little food they had as they all took tiny sips of water from one glass that they shared among the entire family, drawn from the remaining stock of bottled water that they had in the house. Disconnected from their TV programs during evening power cuts, they sat together by candlelight, taking turns reading the Quran. They often started with the Ayat al Kursi verse, which asked God to protect them through the night.
Once all their candles had been burned, they sat in the darkness, listening in huddled silence to the sounds of gunfire, explosions, and screams outside. Sometimes, they even heard the ricocheting pangs of bullets as they hit the walls of their house. Every night they went to bed hungry and wondering how long their confinement would last.
One week passed with their only contact with the outside world being when armed men in uniform and muddy boots banged and kicked at their door, demanding to be let in to search the house. This disturbing and intrusive ritual was performed as often as three times a day. Each time Shokri rose to let them in, he was cooperative and obedient in order to protect the family. Sometimes, the soldiers entered the home and pointed their guns at them, one member at a time. “We’re looking for terrorists,” they would state. That means me, Doaa thought as she realized anyone who’d taken part in a demonstration was now being classified as a terrorist by the state. She was certain that they knew that she and her sisters had been out demonstrating and were trying to scare them into confessing.
One time one soldier looked directly at Doaa and said, “You want freedom, you dogs? We’ll give you freedom.” Then he and his men began sweeping things off the shelves, toppling over books and breaking vases and other trinkets. They then moved into the kitchen and knocked over the last bottle of precious olive oil along with the remaining jars of preserved fruits and vegetables, smashing everything onto the floor. The family was left to clean up the mess and fret over how they would survive with almost all their reserves gone.
Another time during a search, the visiting soldiers took Doaa’s mobile phone and scanned through it for photos or videos that might implicate her in the demonstrations. She had been warned that taking photos of the demonstrations could associate her with them, so she had wisely refrained from documenting her involvement.
One soldier even pointed his gun at Hamudi, who was only six at the time. Trembling in fear, he clung to his mother. Hanaa was terrified that the soldiers might arrest him as they had other young boys. She shielded him in her arms and prayed the soldiers would leave them alone. When they finally left the home, Hanaa was flooded with relief. But every time the family’s house was searched, the fear that someone would be taken away was renewed.