Syrine Ben Ayed - Week 4 - Echoes of the Jasmine Revolution
The sounds of chaos enveloped our surroundings, drowning out the innocent cheerful melodies of my little brother’s TV show. The relentless thud of helicopter blades reverberated overhead, and the sporadic bursts of gunfire echoed through the air. I looked over to my mom, who hastily rushed to the window, her trembling hands fumbling to close the blinds. I could feel her fear in the rushed rhythm of her footsteps, the quiver of her hands, and the momentary hesitation that crossed her pale face before she swiftly returned to secure the door lock in a state of quiet panic.
For a while, I believed this nightmarish scene was a figment of my imagination, a recurring dream simply unwilling to fade. It wasn’t until I confided in my mom one day, telling her of this bizarre image, that I discovered it was, in fact, not a dream, but an experience dating back to 2011 in the heart of our homeland, my home, Tunisia.
Ever since, this memory has remained a constant presence in my thoughts. I often pondered what brought me here and the sacrifice my family made to leave the country they had forever known and cherished, along with the people they loved most, all in pursuit of a more secure future for my brother and me.
As we lay on the bed, my head resting on her shoulder, she imparts tales I know all too well–stories of resilience, of families uniting to protect one another, and the unbreakable spirit of a nation determined to forge a new path toward freedom and justice.
With my dad away on a business trip, she had found herself alone with her two children of 4 and 5, my brother and I, amid this sparking chaos that would later be known as the Jasmine Revolution. After the President fled the country, a curfew had been imposed at 5 pm, with a grim warning that anyone leaving their homes risked being shot, she explains. With the tragic and unfortunate circumstances, many were. She tells me of one man, Ahmed Kriaa, a family friend and a victim of this injustice. He had ventured out one night to deliver food to his employee working late; his compassionate act was rewarded with gunfire. Five wounds marking his body. He left behind a one-year-old girl and another baby on the way.
She continues, describing the sights of people rebelling, breaking windows and setting cars ablaze. She recounts how the television remained on 24 hours a day, with constant news updates reporting which neighborhoods were under attack, leaving us in constant fear that the violence would eventually reach our doorstep. In the darkness of night, boys in our community would gather, armed with rocks and sticks, ready to defend against any militia that were to approach their neighborhoods.
As my mom's words etch the harrowing scenes of the Jasmine Revolution into my memory, I realize that its tumultuous times serve as a poignant reminder of not only the resilience of a people in the face of adversity and their unwavering fight for freedoms, but also of what brought me here today, and the sacrifices my family made for our brighter future.
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| captured during our first month in the US - 2012 |
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| my first day of Kindergarten - 2012 |
Hi Syrine, the story of your past is really powerful and eye-opening. I’m sorry that you and your family had had such close contact with reckless violence on that scale. I can’t imagine how it felt to realize that a nightmare actually happened. Yet, I still deeply relate with dealing with trauma, especially with family, even if it occurred over a decade ago. I could see how large of an impact the Jasmine Revolution has made in the way you vividly recount every detail and emotion. It’s moving to see how you reflect on this tragedy, to see how you did not let this memory tear you down but instead build your character, compassion, and appreciation for your family. I also relate with admiring the bravery of parents, who escape from their home countries, overcome tragedy (which my parents often keep secret), and still find the inner strength to continue to provide. As I progress through high school, I find myself less and less shocked to discover the powerful and unique stories so many people, like you, carry. It just goes to show not to dismiss the people around you as just neighbors, but as unique individuals.
ReplyDeleteHey Syrine, I thought that your story was very detailed and had a lot of sensory details. It is interesting to see that for some time, you had thought something was just a dream, when in reality it actually happened to you when you were younger. I don’t think I could ever imagine how it was for your parents to leave a home that they have lived in for so many years, but it would make sense especially if it was to let you and your brother have a better and safer future. When you talked about your mom telling you tales about resilience and families uniting to protect one another, I have to admit that I got a little jealous. My mom only talks about how she went to school for such long hours, the crazy hikes she had to take to get to school, and how she fought for a single piece of meat with her siblings. It’s sorta crazy how the President fled the country because that act was so irresponsible of them. The situation that was going on, with curfew being set and people getting shot if they left their houses reminded me of the book A Thousand Splendid Suns, where the Taliban took over and put restrictions on everything, and they were especially harsh on women. The main characters had also had the television turned on for long periods of the day, with constant updates on what was going on. Your recounting of your family’s history is a reminder of the sacrifices parents make for their childrens’ futures, and you did it well with the addition of your mother’s narratives.
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