Boarding A “Refugee” Boat

(note: the above video contains gory images, it is shared by a group of Syrians I met on board the ferry)

They hardly look like refugees, they are not disheveled, they seem too cheery and they are in chatty mood, “I from Hama (Syria), he, my brother; this man, from Homs (Syria), our home, da da da da da….” speaking in disjointed English, 18-year-old Afwan emphasizes his point by making a gesture of shooting and mimicking the sound of machine gun in action; behind him, another man in his 20s rolls up his long pants to knee-length to reveal bullet wounds.

I am surrounded by a dozen of Syrians, mostly broad smiling teenagers, on board a ferry from Aqaba, Jordan, to Nuweiba, Egypt, on Friday; they are eager to share stories of their homeland, about the ongoing fights and casualties in the country that has been engulfed by popular uprising and severe crackdowns for months.

It is an expensive ferry, costing 75USD per person for a journey lasting one-and-a-half hour, yet more than half of those on board are Syrians fleeing what they described as “war zone”; Both Jordan and Egypt are just their transit point, as they are heading to Libya for a new leaf of life. “Why Libya? why not Saudi Arabia, or Jordan and Egypt?” I’m puzzled by their choice of final destination, to me, that sounds like jumping from a sinking ship to another.

“Libya no visa, many work,” says Maed, 19, with a reassuring smile, and his pale amber-color eyes twinkle with hope, others around him nod in agreement. As none of them speak proper English save for a few simple words, we have been trying to communicate via a digital Arabic-English dictionary on my ipad, and a dozen of Arabic words that I have picked up over the past two weeks.

My sister and I have first met the pair of brothers, Afwan and Maed, at the ferry departure hall in Aqaba, as we are returning to Egypt after a short detour visit to Petra, Jordan. The brothers in jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers, look like any ordinary boys in high spirit and curious about foreigners, “what’s your name? where you from?” that’s how they strike up a conversation with us, and request to have photographs taken with us with their mobile phones.

Later, on board the ferry, I heard my name “Lam Li….. Lam Li” being murmured from one end to another in the seating area to the deck, apparently, the brothers have been spreading words about our “friendliness” to their fellow countrymen (four-bus-load of them traveling together from Damascus). Throughout the journey, one group after another of Syrians come to us, but with the language barrier, it is hard to extract precise information, or to get a detailed picture of their journey to safety, until a bus driver who speak better English come along.

“Only the larger cities like Aleppo and Damascus are in relative peace. Many people died. It’s not safe for the young people, and there’s no job in Syria,” says the driver Ahmed, who’s transporting the Syrians via a combination of land and sea-route to the promised land Libya. Not all of the Syrians on board – ranged from women, kids, teenagers, to middle-age men – are heading there for job opportunity, as some hope to use Libya as a spring board to get to European countries.

I have my doubts about such escape plan, and I ask how they manage to get out of the country? “back door money, I paid 1000USD for my family of four to get out,” says carpenter Abdul Hakim in his 40s, while another man says he paid 12,000 Syrian Pounds (roughly 220USD) for the journey. The older men on board look more sombre, but the boys in their late teen or early 20s are all smiles, claiming they will work in bakery, restaurant, and hotel making pizza and Arabic sweets once arriving in Libya; while some claim they will work in construction sites. On my ipad’s calculator, they type in their expected salary in Libya – ranging from 400USD to 1000USD per month.

Really? Good salary…. but Libya also unstable, no? I’m not trying to dampen their spirits, but the last I read in news, the country is still struggling after Gaddafi’s death and torn by civil war. “No, Libya good,Gaddafi dead! Syria no good, Assad in power!” the boys reply. When I tell them, I have been to Syria in 2006, and I have met many good people there, and Syrians are amongst the kindest people I have met, the boys actually give me a round of applause in appreciation, startling and embarassing me a little.

“Sister, sitter, look, this man village, fighting,” out of the blue, a tall, lean man squeezes through the circle of boys surrounding me, and pushes a mobile phone right under my nose. A video of army shooting and burnt corpses lying here and there starts playing on the mobile screen, it’s a scene from hell (ps: video attached above). A man wearing traditional long robe and white haj cap claims the video was taken in his village near Homs. Another man who speak some English keep telling me, “sister, please, tell the world,” and he offers to share the video via bluetooth device on his mobile.

I don’t know what to make of the encounter, these Syrians fleeing their troubled land into a future of uncertainties, yet they seem so hopeful and to a certain extend acted happy. I can’t help but type in my digital dictionary to translate, “happy?” and point my finger to the boys, again, they flash a broad smile, but they are shaking their heads, “no, no, Syria, da da da da da……”; then I type another word: “scare?”, and this time, some boys sink into a few seconds of silence, then one replies: “yes, mama, papa, sister, Syria, da da da da da…….” I am sorry, I’m a stupid tourist asking the obvious…….

(note: I have omitted the full names of people, and refrain from uploading their photos as requested, as they fear repercussion in future….)