Olympic Swimmer Yusra Mardini on Returning to Syria After 10 Years Away
But this past December, the country's brutal Assad regime was toppled by rebel forces after 50 years, and while there is still conflict and many safety risks remain, some Syrians feel ready to return now that the violent dictatorship has ended. Over 13 million Syrians have been displaced in the past 14 years. Since December 8, around 370,000 refugees have returned home to their communities. Many more hope to do the same. In March, Mardini became one of them.
Ten years after she left, Mardini returned to Syria, along with her mother. They visited their relatives, saw the remains of their home, and visited with displaced people as part of Mardini's role as a Goodwill Ambassador for the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees.
During her visit, Mardini saw the nation reeling from the ongoing war and the implications of sanctions that the U.S. and other countries have put on Syria. According to UNICEF, more than two million school-aged children are out of school there, and one in three schools cannot be used because they were either destroyed, or damaged, or are being used as shelter.
'The most important thing for people to know about Syria is that this country is in a state of pain. There's a lot of anger. There's a lot of asking, 'Why did the world turn their backs on us?'' she says. 'Syria needs to heal. Syria needs to be protected. We need to build the country with the values that we were taught when we were young. We need to protect each other as Syrians. I want people to understand that the most important thing for Syrians right now is basic human rights. We need those.'
It was a mix of emotions. The moment we crossed the border, I was in tears. It made it so much more emotional to have my mother next to me in the car, seeing my grandma after 10 years, seeing my family. It was as if nothing changed, but everything did change. It was like, this is my home, this is my land, but I'm kind of a stranger.
My friends took me around and told me about the new places, and about how heavy the sanctions are. It's my country—I felt a little bit disappointed that I didn't know how much they were struggling, even though I'm an advocate, and even though I've been talking about my country for the past 10 years.
When I came back from Syria, it was very heavy on me. When I was 17, it was a bit easier. I had swimming to focus my anger at, and I could channel everything into something positive, into my goals. Now I'm 27, and I feel like we get attached a little deeper. We get sad a bit more. We can't move on as quickly as we could when we were young. It was like a brand-new experience that I have to still process.
Syrians are so isolated from the world. The regime and the sanctions have made it very difficult for people to have a normal life. They are living to survive. Of course, they have their goals and their ambitions, and they wake up every day with a positive attitude, trying to accomplish things in life. What I noticed is the urgent need for everything. When I say everything, everything. Forty percent of schools in Syria are destroyed; 90 percent of Syrians are on the poverty line. It's still the highest number for refugee crisis in the world—13 million. It's so heartbreaking.
Even if you did not seek refuge outside of Syria, you are displaced within the country. A lot of people go back and find their homes destroyed. It's just, in general, very heartbreaking. I always say that I came back with so much anger and sadness, but I'll channel that to do good. I want to be angry at the world. I'm not going to lie to you. I want to scream, but I can actually take that anger and put it into something good. Instead of just words, I can actually think, how can I navigate building schools, building hospitals, working with UNHCR, visiting shelters? How can I use my anger to actually make a difference? That's not easy, but the difference is a lot.
Oh, it was not the right time. There's no right time. But I wanted to go back in December—I was not going to wait. I didn't care about security. I didn't care about anything. I am very lucky to have UNHCR. I'm very lucky to have my mother tell me, 'You need to wait. You need to be patient.' It was the right timing because UNHCR is an incredible team that said, 'Okay, we'll navigate this trip because it's very, very important,' even though they're [dealing with] insane budget cuts right now. Not many missions are happening right now, but they understood the importance of me going back home and helping my people.
I met with a lot of people, actually. I met with the staff from UNHCR in Damascus. We went to a few community centers in Daraa and Homs, and we went to businesses that are supported by UNHCR. It was honestly very inspiring to me to meet the people and understand that, for small businesses, it's just like they're starting from scratch.
They're already displaced, and they are learning how to give back from nothing. They're giving job opportunities to other refugees or other Syrians. They are teaching them how to knit or how to make this product. These women that are employed are supporting their families. It was very inspiring, but I wasn't surprised because I know my people. My grandma would not throw out an old shirt. She would create something out of it. I love that about Syrians.
There was one family that we visited, and I met this little girl named Kholoud, wearing her new clothes from aid. Her house was destroyed, but she had the biggest smile on her face. She was so excited. For me, I was like, This is why I do the work that I do, because I want to be someone that inspires her. I want her to look up at me and say, 'Look, Yusra made it. So can I.'
Is it heartbreaking? Do I want to take them all and put them in a better location, give them all the rights that they're supposed to have? One hundred percent. I wish I was a superwoman, but I'm not. This is not the only trip that I'm going to make to Syria. My goal is to be someone that is able to build schools, to build hospitals, to be able to support refugees worldwide, not just in Syria. I truly believe I can.
It's still heavy. I expected it to be destroyed, but not completely on the ground. [But it was.] I don't know what happened. The neighbors told us that the building stood until seven months ago, so maybe it was dangerous to keep it standing? I have no idea what happened. My mom was like, 'This is the building.' I was like, 'No.' She was like, 'We just saw your uncle's house. This is our building.' I was like, 'No.' It was really, really devastating.
I shared the video online because I know that I have a responsibility. I know that I have the power, and I know that my voice would reach people. It's gotten 21 million views right now.
A lot of people are commenting on things that I fought for: 'Oh, but her nails are pretty, her hair is pretty, her outfit is fine. What is she crying about?' We put refugees in a box—we have to look a certain way, we have to speak a certain way. How dare we speak English, and how could we look pretty and clean? But I knew that very few people can share a video like that. Who wants to stand in front of their destroyed home and show the world? I don't think anyone wants that.
Swimming taught me a lot. From a very young age, I learned how to separate between my professional life and my personal life. My father always told me, 'When you're in the pool, you're focusing on your goals, and everything else outside of the pool can wait.' It taught me how to do that in life, with or without sports.
Swimming also taught me patience. I am not going to get to where I want by doing ordinary things, but I have to do ordinary things for a very long time in order to do extraordinary things. I have to do boring workouts. I have to do boring hours in the pool for me to get to the level that I want. It taught me how to deal with disappointment, and it taught me how to try again.
This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.You Might Also Like
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San Francisco Chronicle
8 minutes ago
- San Francisco Chronicle
Syria's Druze fear for their future after sectarian clashes
DAMASCUS, Syria (AP) — Before the eruption of sectarian violence in southern Syria, Saber Abou Ras taught medical sciences at a university in the city of Sweida and was somewhat hopeful of a better future for his country as it emerged from nearly 14 years of civil war. Now, like many others in the Druze-majority city in southern Syria, he carries arms and refuses to give them up to the government. He sees little hope for the united Syria he recently thought was in reach. 'We are for national unity, but not the unity of terrorist gangs,' Abou Ras, a Druze, told The Associated Press in a phone call from the battered city. Clashes broke out last week that were sparked by tit-for-tat kidnappings between armed Bedouin clans and fighters with the Druze religious minority. The violence killed hundreds of people and threatened to unravel Syria's fragile postwar transition. Syrian government forces intervened to end the fighting, but effectively sided with the clans. Disturbing videos and reports soon surfaced of Druze civilians being humiliated and executed, sometimes accompanied by sectarian slurs. One showed gunmen in military uniform asking an unarmed man about his identity. When he replies that he is Syrian, the gunmen demand, 'What do you mean Syrian? Are you Sunni or Druze?' When the man says he is Druze, the men open fire, killing him. Hossam Saraya, a Syrian-American Druze from Oklahoma, was shown in another video, kneeling with his brother, father, and at least three other relatives, before a group of men in military garb sprayed them with automatic fire and celebrated. The Druze religious sect is an offshoot of Ismailism, a branch of Shiite Islam. Outsiders are not allowed to convert, and most religious practices are shrouded in secrecy. There are roughly a million Druze worldwide and more than half of them live in Syria. The others live in Lebanon and Israel, including in the Golan Heights — which Israel captured from Syria during the 1967 Mideast War and annexed in 1981. Though a small community within Syria's population of more than 20 million, Sweida's Druze take pride in their involvement in liberating the country from Ottoman and later French colonial rule, and establishing the present-day Syrian state. During the uprising-turned-civil war that started in 2011, Druze leaders reached a fragile agreement with former President Bashar Assad that gave Sweida semi-autonomy, leaving the minority group to protect its own territory instead of serving in the Syrian military. Most Druze celebrated Assad's fall The Druze largely welcomed the fall of Assad in December in a rebel offensive that ended decades of autocratic rule by the Assad dynasty. The Druze were largely skeptical of the Islamist background of Syria's interim president Ahmad al-Sharaa, especially as he once led the al-Qaida-linked Nusra Front. But many, including influential clerics, supported diplomatically engaging with the new leadership. Among those more hostile towards al-Sharaa is spiritual leader Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri and a faction of Druze militias called the Sweida Military Council. There were intense divisions between them and others in the Druze community for months. Previous clashes between Druze armed groups and government forces were resolved before the violence could escalate. A security agreement was reached between the Druze and Damascus in May that was intended to bring about long-term calm. But the recent clashes and sectarian attacks in Sweida have upset that balance, and many Druze appear to have lost hope in reaching a fair settlement diplomatically. Sectarian violence after the fall of Assad Many Druze see the government's attacks as an extension of a wave of sectarian violence that broke out months ago on Syria's coast. Clashes between the new government's forces and Assad loyalists spiraled into revenge killings targeting members of the Alawite minority to which Assad belongs. A government investigation into the coastal violence found that more than 1,400 people were killed, mostly civilians, and that members of the security forces were implicated in the attacks. The difference in Sweida, as Abou Ras, the Druze medical sciences professor, sees it, is that the Druze had their own armed factions that were able to fight back. 'They talked about respecting minorities and the different components of Syria," he said. "But what happened at the coast was a hard lesson for Syrians, and we learned from it.' The interim president denies that Druze are being targeted After the violence in Sweida, Al-Sharaa vowed to hold perpetrators to account, and restated his promises since taking power that he will not exclude Syria's minority groups. He and other officials have insisted that they are not targeting the Druze, but armed factions that are challenging state authority, namely those led by al-Hijri. Al-Sharaa also accused Israel of trying to exacerbate divisions in the country by launching airstrikes on government forces in the province, which Israel said was in defense of the Druze. The tensions have already created new challenges to forging national unity. Other minority groups — particularly the Kurdish forces controlling Syria's northeast, who have been in negotiations with Damascus to merge with the new national army — are reconsidering surrendering their weapons after seeing the violence in Sweida. A Syrian Druze who lived abroad for over 20 years was in Syria when Assad fell and celebrated with friends and family on the streets of Sweida. He quit his job to move back and be involved with the community. He joined in with people who waved Syria's new flag that symbolized the uprising, danced, and stepped on torn portraits of Assad. He said he wanted al-Sharaa to be successful, but now he doesn't see a peaceful future for Syria's different ethnic and religious groups with him at the helm. 'In every household (in Sweida), someone has died,' he told the AP. The Associated Press could not confirm that independently as there was no official death toll. However, it was a sentiment frequently shared by Syrians from Sweida. He asked to have his name and other identifying details withheld out of fear for his and his family's safety. 'I think after the massacres that happened, there is not a single person in Sweida that wants anything to do with this government, unfortunately," he said. "This government butchered people, and butchered any possibility to (bring) reconciliation and harmonize the south.'
Hamilton Spectator
37 minutes ago
- Hamilton Spectator
Syria's Druze fear for their future after sectarian clashes
DAMASCUS, Syria (AP) — Before the eruption of sectarian violence in southern Syria, Saber Abou Ras taught medical sciences at a university in the city of Sweida and was somewhat hopeful of a better future for his country as it emerged from nearly 14 years of civil war. Now, like many others in the Druze-majority city in southern Syria, he carries arms and refuses to give them up to the government. He sees little hope for the united Syria he recently thought was in reach. 'We are for national unity, but not the unity of terrorist gangs,' Abou Ras, a Druze, told The Associated Press in a phone call from the battered city. Clashes broke out last week that were sparked by tit-for-tat kidnappings between armed Bedouin clans and fighters with the Druze religious minority. The violence killed hundreds of people and threatened to unravel Syria's fragile postwar transition. Syrian government forces intervened to end the fighting, but effectively sided with the clans. Disturbing videos and reports soon surfaced of Druze civilians being humiliated and executed, sometimes accompanied by sectarian slurs. One showed gunmen in military uniform asking an unarmed man about his identity. When he replies that he is Syrian, the gunmen demand, 'What do you mean Syrian? Are you Sunni or Druze?' When the man says he is Druze, the men open fire, killing him. Hossam Saraya , a Syrian-American Druze from Oklahoma, was shown in another video, kneeling with his brother, father, and at least three other relatives, before a group of men in military garb sprayed them with automatic fire and celebrated. A religious sect with roots in Islam The Druze religious sect is an offshoot of Ismailism, a branch of Shiite Islam. Outsiders are not allowed to convert, and most religious practices are shrouded in secrecy. There are roughly a million Druze worldwide and more than half of them live in Syria. The others live in Lebanon and Israel, including in the Golan Heights — which Israel captured from Syria during the 1967 Mideast War and annexed in 1981. Though a small community within Syria's population of more than 20 million, Sweida's Druze take pride in their involvement in liberating the country from Ottoman and later French colonial rule, and establishing the present-day Syrian state. During the uprising-turned-civil war that started in 2011, Druze leaders reached a fragile agreement with former President Bashar Assad that gave Sweida semi-autonomy, leaving the minority group to protect its own territory instead of serving in the Syrian military. Most Druze celebrated Assad's fall The Druze largely welcomed the fall of Assad in December in a rebel offensive that ended decades of autocratic rule by the Assad dynasty. The Druze were largely skeptical of the Islamist background of Syria's interim president Ahmad al-Sharaa , especially as he once led the al-Qaida-linked Nusra Front. But many, including influential clerics, supported diplomatically engaging with the new leadership. Among those more hostile towards al-Sharaa is spiritual leader Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri and a faction of Druze militias called the Sweida Military Council. There were intense divisions between them and others in the Druze community for months. Previous clashes between Druze armed groups and government forces were resolved before the violence could escalate. A security agreement was reached between the Druze and Damascus in May that was intended to bring about long-term calm. But the recent clashes and sectarian attacks in Sweida have upset that balance, and many Druze appear to have lost hope in reaching a fair settlement diplomatically. Sectarian violence after the fall of Assad Many Druze see the government's attacks as an extension of a wave of sectarian violence that broke out months ago on Syria's coast. Clashes between the new government's forces and Assad loyalists spiraled into revenge killings targeting members of the Alawite minority to which Assad belongs. A government investigation into the coastal violence found that more than 1,400 people were killed, mostly civilians, and that members of the security forces were implicated in the attacks. The difference in Sweida, as Abou Ras, the Druze medical sciences professor, sees it, is that the Druze had their own armed factions that were able to fight back. 'They talked about respecting minorities and the different components of Syria,' he said. 'But what happened at the coast was a hard lesson for Syrians, and we learned from it.' The interim president denies that Druze are being targeted After the violence in Sweida, Al-Sharaa vowed to hold perpetrators to account, and restated his promises since taking power that he will not exclude Syria's minority groups. He and other officials have insisted that they are not targeting the Druze, but armed factions that are challenging state authority, namely those led by al-Hijri. Al-Sharaa also accused Israel of trying to exacerbate divisions in the country by launching airstrikes on government forces in the province, which Israel said was in defense of the Druze. The tensions have already created new challenges to forging national unity. Other minority groups — particularly the Kurdish forces controlling Syria's northeast, who have been in negotiations with Damascus to merge with the new national army — are reconsidering surrendering their weapons after seeing the violence in Sweida. A Syrian Druze who lived abroad for over 20 years was in Syria when Assad fell and celebrated with friends and family on the streets of Sweida. He quit his job to move back and be involved with the community. He joined in with people who waved Syria's new flag that symbolized the uprising, danced, and stepped on torn portraits of Assad. He said he wanted al-Sharaa to be successful, but now he doesn't see a peaceful future for Syria's different ethnic and religious groups with him at the helm. 'In every household (in Sweida), someone has died,' he told the AP. The Associated Press could not confirm that independently as there was no official death toll. However, it was a sentiment frequently shared by Syrians from Sweida. He asked to have his name and other identifying details withheld out of fear for his and his family's safety. 'I think after the massacres that happened, there is not a single person in Sweida that wants anything to do with this government, unfortunately,' he said. 'This government butchered people, and butchered any possibility to (bring) reconciliation and harmonize the south.' ___ Chehayeb reported from Beirut. Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .
Associated Press
39 minutes ago
- Associated Press
Syria's Druze fear for their future after sectarian clashes
DAMASCUS, Syria (AP) — Before the eruption of sectarian violence in southern Syria, Saber Abou Ras taught medical sciences at a university in the city of Sweida and was somewhat hopeful of a better future for his country as it emerged from nearly 14 years of civil war. Now, like many others in the Druze-majority city in southern Syria, he carries arms and refuses to give them up to the government. He sees little hope for the united Syria he recently thought was in reach. 'We are for national unity, but not the unity of terrorist gangs,' Abou Ras, a Druze, told The Associated Press in a phone call from the battered city. Clashes broke out last week that were sparked by tit-for-tat kidnappings between armed Bedouin clans and fighters with the Druze religious minority. The violence killed hundreds of people and threatened to unravel Syria's fragile postwar transition. Syrian government forces intervened to end the fighting, but effectively sided with the clans. Disturbing videos and reports soon surfaced of Druze civilians being humiliated and executed, sometimes accompanied by sectarian slurs. One showed gunmen in military uniform asking an unarmed man about his identity. When he replies that he is Syrian, the gunmen demand, 'What do you mean Syrian? Are you Sunni or Druze?' When the man says he is Druze, the men open fire, killing him. Hossam Saraya, a Syrian-American Druze from Oklahoma, was shown in another video, kneeling with his brother, father, and at least three other relatives, before a group of men in military garb sprayed them with automatic fire and celebrated. A religious sect with roots in Islam The Druze religious sect is an offshoot of Ismailism, a branch of Shiite Islam. Outsiders are not allowed to convert, and most religious practices are shrouded in secrecy. There are roughly a million Druze worldwide and more than half of them live in Syria. The others live in Lebanon and Israel, including in the Golan Heights — which Israel captured from Syria during the 1967 Mideast War and annexed in 1981. Though a small community within Syria's population of more than 20 million, Sweida's Druze take pride in their involvement in liberating the country from Ottoman and later French colonial rule, and establishing the present-day Syrian state. During the uprising-turned-civil war that started in 2011, Druze leaders reached a fragile agreement with former President Bashar Assad that gave Sweida semi-autonomy, leaving the minority group to protect its own territory instead of serving in the Syrian military. Most Druze celebrated Assad's fall The Druze largely welcomed the fall of Assad in December in a rebel offensive that ended decades of autocratic rule by the Assad dynasty. The Druze were largely skeptical of the Islamist background of Syria's interim president Ahmad al-Sharaa, especially as he once led the al-Qaida-linked Nusra Front. But many, including influential clerics, supported diplomatically engaging with the new leadership. Among those more hostile towards al-Sharaa is spiritual leader Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri and a faction of Druze militias called the Sweida Military Council. There were intense divisions between them and others in the Druze community for months. Previous clashes between Druze armed groups and government forces were resolved before the violence could escalate. A security agreement was reached between the Druze and Damascus in May that was intended to bring about long-term calm. But the recent clashes and sectarian attacks in Sweida have upset that balance, and many Druze appear to have lost hope in reaching a fair settlement diplomatically. Sectarian violence after the fall of Assad Many Druze see the government's attacks as an extension of a wave of sectarian violence that broke out months ago on Syria's coast. Clashes between the new government's forces and Assad loyalists spiraled into revenge killings targeting members of the Alawite minority to which Assad belongs. A government investigation into the coastal violence found that more than 1,400 people were killed, mostly civilians, and that members of the security forces were implicated in the attacks. The difference in Sweida, as Abou Ras, the Druze medical sciences professor, sees it, is that the Druze had their own armed factions that were able to fight back. 'They talked about respecting minorities and the different components of Syria,' he said. 'But what happened at the coast was a hard lesson for Syrians, and we learned from it.' The interim president denies that Druze are being targeted After the violence in Sweida, Al-Sharaa vowed to hold perpetrators to account, and restated his promises since taking power that he will not exclude Syria's minority groups. He and other officials have insisted that they are not targeting the Druze, but armed factions that are challenging state authority, namely those led by al-Hijri. Al-Sharaa also accused Israel of trying to exacerbate divisions in the country by launching airstrikes on government forces in the province, which Israel said was in defense of the Druze. The tensions have already created new challenges to forging national unity. Other minority groups — particularly the Kurdish forces controlling Syria's northeast, who have been in negotiations with Damascus to merge with the new national army — are reconsidering surrendering their weapons after seeing the violence in Sweida. A Syrian Druze who lived abroad for over 20 years was in Syria when Assad fell and celebrated with friends and family on the streets of Sweida. He quit his job to move back and be involved with the community. He joined in with people who waved Syria's new flag that symbolized the uprising, danced, and stepped on torn portraits of Assad. He said he wanted al-Sharaa to be successful, but now he doesn't see a peaceful future for Syria's different ethnic and religious groups with him at the helm. 'In every household (in Sweida), someone has died,' he told the AP. The Associated Press could not confirm that independently as there was no official death toll. However, it was a sentiment frequently shared by Syrians from Sweida. He asked to have his name and other identifying details withheld out of fear for his and his family's safety. 'I think after the massacres that happened, there is not a single person in Sweida that wants anything to do with this government, unfortunately,' he said. 'This government butchered people, and butchered any possibility to (bring) reconciliation and harmonize the south.' ___ Chehayeb reported from Beirut.
