Uprooted But Unwavering

There is not a stone in Yarmouk Camp that has not wept over the elders, widows, and youngsters whom we’ve lost to random bombings. There is not a household in Yarmouk Camp that has not grieved a son, daughter, father, mother, or an arrest. We still cry and weep.

In 2013, it was decided that my children would escape to Malaysia. But I couldn’t live without them, and followed suit in 2014.