Arab Renaissance for Democracy and Development

Arab Renaissance for Democracy and Development

Voice: Why Does My Heart Shiver?


I left my house barefoot with my children after it was demolished on top of our heads; we made it with a miracle and with the grace of God. I moved to another house but the bombing would not stop and no one was left in the neighborhood; it became the town of fear and terror that we heard about when we were young, the one we imagined in the stories told to us by our grandmother. It became the city of death…snow is falling and it covered the ground, it is cold but in my heart is a fire that burns, and a fear that is melting my insides. Whenever I hear a bomb my heart would jump through my ribs. How do I get out, and who will help me get out? Finally God sent us an escape, and I left with my children as they were screaming and holding on to me out of fear. “L” was saying: I want my father…dad…dad, and “N” was screaming: I have stomach ache, and I knew her heart was shaking with every sound of a bullet and a bomb that she hears. “Y” looked like a frozen statue, and my one-year-old curled up in my lap. The speed of the vehicle fastened my heart beats and I could hear them pounding in my ears. We finally arrived at two thirty in the morning to a house outside of Baba Amro, and they received us as if we were family. My children slept but I couldn’t sleep with the sound of the bombs, my son and husband had remained in our neighborhood…I shiver, yet I do not know if it is out of cold or fear or maybe both.

- Hamida


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