Not So Happy EidNot So Happy Eid

“Happy Eid” messages have yet again bombarded my phone… Year after year, I look at the messages sent by family and friends whom I haven’t seen in years, and the irony of these two words leave me staring back at them wondering, we are not happy. For those of us Syrians living abroad, we’re sick of hearing our non-Syrian friends talk about how they miss seeing their relatives and loved ones for a span of a few months simply because of COVID-19. We are aware that they at least have the privilege of knowing they will certainly see them soon. What about us who have been separated from our families for a decade, prevented from traveling freely as Syrians merely because of our notorious identity that now seems to be hated by governments internationally?

Syrians in the country can never obtain a visa for visiting loved ones abroad, and those abroad as refugees aren’t able to return for several years. How many more “Happy Eid” messages will we receive thousands of kilometers apart, lonely and miserable about the future? How many more “Happy Eid” messages will we receive while 80% of our people live below the poverty line, when our youth have lost hope in a prosperous Syria they had once envisioned being a part of, and when we are not only a fragmented community, but also fragmented families and social circles. How many “Happy Eid” messages will we receive when our loved ones in Syria deal with daily electricity cuts, sanctions that have torn the economy and people’s livelihoods apart, and a corrupt society.

It is not a “Happy Eid” until we can hug those we love, rather than grow accustomed to viewing them through a phone screen and end every Eid call with “Hopefully, next Eid we’ll celebrate together”; I have heard this phrase since I was 12. Today, at almost 22 years old, I’ll have to say it again along with you all: “Hopefully, next Eid we’ll celebrate together”.