imagine you're home alone with your
one-month old child
you hear knock at the door but before
you can answer a swarm of military
police bursts of the door one of them
puts a gun to your head and demands to
see your spouse as the others ransack
your home they forced you outside onto
the street and you see that they brought
a military truck you start to connect
the dots as you see them shuffling your
valuables from your home to their
vehicle before you know it they douse
your house in gasoline and set it on
fire as you watch your house burned down
in front of you they pull away leaving
you with nothing but the clothes on your
back and a crying baby in your arms
after short while you're reunited with
your spouse and you both agree that the
only solution for the safety of your
family is to leave the country so you
hire transporter to take you to the
border you when a dozen other families
are crammed into a tiny bus under the
cover of night and a trip that would
normally take around 30 minutes ends up
taking several hours walking and driving
to the Jordanian border you finally
arrive and cross along with hundreds of
people only to wait for several hours
before you reach a tented holding area
there you're searched and depending on
the mood of the officer in charge
anything that you brought with you can
be confiscated or destroyed before your
eyes
there's not enough room for everyone in
the tents so the women and children
sleep inside as the men take turns
sleeping outside
after several hours or even days you're
bused to the nearby town of Muffet up
along the Jordanian Syrian border there
you're registered questioned and your
identification papers are taken away
from you
they've taken the only proof of your
identity that you have and your ticket
back home
or anywhere else you're corralled onto
another bus and driven down a desert
highway on the horizon you start to see
a city of tents sprawling over the harsh
landscape after a moment you begin to
realize that this is your new home this
is the story of how salmon a barber and
his family made their way to the
zachetti refugee camp in Jordan and
although there are many stories that are
much much worse than his very few are
more positive I'm Faisal trash I was
born in Syria but moved to the United
States when I was three years old along
with my parents and younger brother
although I grew up in the United States
and had an American childhood my parents
worked really hard to instill a deep
sense of Syrian identity and my brother
and me whenever anyone asked where I was
from
I'd always reply without hesitation
Syria
fast forward several years I graduated
from University and moved to Syria for a
year to study Arabic I enrolled in
Damascus University's higher language
institute a program specifically
designed to teach foreigners Arabic I
was expecting this time in Syria to
solidify my identity as Syrian I was
gonna perfect my Arabic it's gonna meet
Syrian friends and I was gonna become a
local I was finally gonna feel like I
was home well I didn't
to my surprise every time my classmates
asked where I was from I'd reply that I
was American but born in Syria I
couldn't say I was Syrian
cuz Syrian here meant the people you see
around you on the bus on the way to
class Syrian here meant to Baker who
made chocolate filled croissants in the
morning
Syrian here meant the guy who sold
bootleg DVDs around the corner from
where I lived I was definitely not the
same as one of them I began to realize
that I was Syrian American not one or
the other but a mixture of both and
after the initial shock it dawned on me
that this was an advantageous position
to be in I could connect to two cultures
immersing myself in either one but just
as easily take a step back and view it
as an outsider I left Syria at the end
of April 2011 the uprising had begun and
you can feel the tension on the ground
in Damascus I couldn't help but wonder
what Syria was gonna be like when I
returned or when that would even be it's
the conflict dragged on and got more and
more destructive I watched from afar I
watched as peaceful protests were met
with deadly force I watched the people
to pick up arms to defend themselves
cities had so recently visited were
bombed and shelled by the Syrian
military forces and all the while the
international community watched on as
well the number of victims and displaced
persons multiplied as tough as this was
for me it was a million times more
difficult for my parents
the real Syrians they felt so helpless
in alleviating the suffering of their
people and this guilt ate away at them
just like it did to the millions of
other Syrian expats around the world I
began to wonder what can I do as a
filmmaker my job is to tell stories I
wanted to tell the story of the Syrian
refugees because I felt like I it was
accessible to me and because I felt like
I wasn't getting enough attention so we
decided to go to the Zaatari refugee
camp in Jordan because it's the world's
large
Syrian refugee camp and because it's
sort of become this unofficial
spokesperson for the Syrian refugee
crisis so we focused our story on the
barbers in the camp to inform our idea
of what it meant to be refugee through
their eyes
you know have might be stuff in them up
you know about cinema Celibidache quinoa
what the hell you know I had with Travis
every night that much food okay yeah I
end up tempest I had enough to tell a
grown bustle you're sure we're here to
check really very Adam I watched America
when we arrived in the camp we're very
aware of the physical space that we were
entering the borders of the camp are
very clearly delineated and there's a
heavy security presence surrounding it
when we pass through the first
checkpoint off the main highway it felt
like we're entering a different world a
long stretch of road led down to the
actual main entrance of the camp and
there were barely any cars around as
most people traveled on foot
little kids pushed wheelbarrows back and
forth from gate to gate moving goods for
a small fee like taxis once we passed
through the main entrance of the camp
it felt kind of surreal the structures
or temporary but it seemed as though
they'd been there for a long time as
they sat above this landscape of white
gravel and rocks we walked down the one
of the side streets to check in with
security and within the first minute of
us being in the camp we felt something
whizzed by our backs and then I felt
something hit my bag we turned around
and looked behind us and we saw a couple
kids throwing rocks at us we didn't know
how to react to this so we kept walking
unsure of whether or not we should
acknowledge this and scold them or just
keep walking and not draw any more
attention to ourselves our guide turned
around and yelled at them from afar but
they kept throwing rocks until we were
too far down the street for them to
reach us
this was our welcome into the zotti
refugee camp there's a psychological
barrier in addition to the physical one
we just crossed it felt as though we
were entering their space we were a crew
of four people yawn and tie our sound
man and cameraman both had blond hair
and blue eyes and more than six feet two
inches tall
Heidi our producer was a pretty American
woman who didn't cover her hair with a
headscarf
and of course there was me we were a
group of USC graduate film students this
was definitely not our territory but
theirs and who could blame them to us
they were spectacle we were there to
view them as if they were in some type
of zoo they were used to seeing
foreigners come and go with their
cameras snapping photos of all the
unreal sights and experiences things
that the refugees had to deal with on a
daily basis these strangers would then
take these photos and leave the camp and
show them to the world never returning
with any kind of aid or benefit to the
camp so this relationship was one-sided
and they began to distrust cameras in
the camp they felt exploited loss of
dignity
not to mention fear that these images
can somehow end up in the hands of the
Syrian regime endangering their families
to them we were just like any other
group of foreigners it was critical for
us to break this barrier and gain their
trust especially for me as a fellow
Syrian it was just as important for them
to get to know us so by learning about
one another we were able to cross this
invisible barrier and we were no longer
a strange sight to see for them we were
no longer abstract ideas in one
another's minds by we formed personal
connections and by the end of it they
started to expect us day after day the
most rewarding thing for
was getting to meet Salmons family we
met his wife his baby son Hamza his
sisters and his nephews and we learned
their names and they learned ours we ate
with them and they showed us their home
and their neighborhood
we accompanied sama to Friday prayer and
we got to go with them
to Syria tel Hill to make a phone call
to the relatives back home so there's
this high point in the camp where if you
switch out your Jordanian SIM card with
your Syrian one and you hold your phone
up high you can pick up reception coming
out of Syria
so the refugees go up to this point in
the evenings and they wave their phones
around and if they're lucky enough to
catch a signal they can call their
friends and relatives back home in Syria
and this is the main form of
communication that they have with their
relatives back home hence the name Syria
tel hill samer described many aspects of
living in the camp to us including how
they received their food aid it was
smaller
giving you a few can enough saline how
you just like any other form of mass aid
distribution it's a very impersonal
process and one that doesn't connect
with the refugees so much so that
sometimes as you can see they can't even
remember the different acronyms of the
organizations distributing the aid to
them as he mentioned they wait in line
by the hundreds or even thousands and
each family is represented by a UNHCR
ration card with a barcode on it and
these cards don't have any information
about the individuals on it or any kind
of picture identification and to them
it's it's this dehumanizing process and
they start to see it as an injustice
this Aid is never sufficient to feed
their families
it's barely enough to maintain the
status quo and help them survive so
although it's an essential service their
relationship to it is a negative one
there's a stark difference between how
they describe this impersonal aid and
aid and programs that are much more
personal
for example Salmons wife works at the UN
Women and girls Center where they teach
them various skills and crafts and when
she described this program to us she
told us about the Italian woman who came
in on Tuesdays to teach them how to
crochet and then she told us about the
German woman who came in on Wednesdays
to teach him how to make mosaics it's
very clear that they had a high amount
of respect for these programs and when
she showed us her and her sister-in-laws
handiwork she was very proud and
empowered its programs like this and
others such as the Taekwondo classes for
children taught by South Korean teachers
that stick in these people's minds they
form personal connections that empower
them and they learn sustainable skills
that help improve their quality of life
again breaking down barriers to them
they perceive this aid this personal aid
as something positive in their lives and
something that gives them a purpose in
the camp it makes you wonder how much of
a difference it would make if there were
many more personal aid programs like
this in the camp or even what would
happen if the impersonal aid was handled
and distributed in a much more personal
way if you ask any of the refugees in
the camp what their biggest hope is
they'll all respond to go back home to
Syria despite this longing the refugees
are resilient and they'll do anything
they can to improve their current
situations and their lives in the camp
they live moment to moment knowing that
their lives can just as easily and
quickly change as they did is when they
suddenly found themselves in the camp
humor ahead and embellish way
semi-autonomous an alpha house ultra
Samba so I was about Mahalo
- - Emily did a flower on the flower on
Rodeo Tara crucial right could the moon
McCully at the Syrian refugees are
industrious and resourceful and
entrepreneurial the barbers we met were
lucky enough to be able to use their
skill in the camp but there are many
other educated skilled and experienced
individuals that remain unutilized I
believe that by helping them find a
purpose in the camp through some type of
personal interaction it's essential to
is essential to improving their living
conditions as well as their mental
health it's important to remember that
all of these refugees are here because
they have no choice they experience
traumatic events that are going to haunt
them for the rest of their lives
so this impersonal aid is their
sustenance and it's necessary for their
survival but by providing personal aid
we can help ensure that they remain
capable and rebuilding Syria's future
when I was in the camp
I felt Syrian not Syrian American just
Syrian to them my American qualities
didn't matter
I was Syrian in their eyes I too miss
Syria and missed my memories there Syria
was just five minutes away and within
sight taunting me I just wanted to drop
everything and feel its soil beneath my
feet but I couldn't and they couldn't
but at least I had the advantage of
being able to leave the camp and return
to the United States and continue grad
school becoming engulfed once again in
the busy distractions that made up my
life they were trapped there with Syria
a stone's throw away taunting them
I began to understand how unbearable
this must be for them our last day in
the camp was bittersweet as the Sun set
we packed up our equipment in Sam at his
house and we said our goodbyes and thank
them for their warmth and hospitality
and we each took turns taking photos
with baby Hamza and gave him a big kiss
on her way out and as we headed out for
the last time we were excited about the
positive experience we just had but sad
about leaving these new friends we've
made hoping that the next time we see
them would be in their homes in Syria
thank you