Three Years Working for Syria. One Journey I'll Never Forget

They always tell you conflict is terrible. But have you ever truly seen its aftermath? 

For the past three years, I have worked to support Syrian refugees through my role as a Communications Officer at World Vision Syria Response. Ever since I was in school, community work has been one of my greatest passions. Throughout university, I sought every opportunity to volunteer and support communities. It was then that I realised, I wanted to turn that passion into a career, wanting to always stand alongside people facing hardship and helping create meaningful change. Since I began my work with World Vision, I listened to stories of displacement, torment, loss, and unimaginable hardship. I met some of the strongest people I have ever known, people whose resilience and determination inspired me beyond words. But hearing about conflict and witnessing its aftermath on the ground are two very different things. 

After lots of planning, I finally visited Syria. We travelled from north to south, and for the first time, I had a true glimpse of what people mean when they speak about the horrors of conflict. 

As we drove through city after city, thousands of destroyed buildings stood before us. They were everywhere, in every city. It was horrifying to see how these buildings, which were once home to millions of people, have all been destroyed. But I couldn’t just see piles of concrete. Every building I looked at once held a family, laughter, dreams, and memories that turned into cries, fear and despair as families ran for their survival. I found myself tearing up over and over again, imagining the stories hidden behind every destroyed wall. 

I remember one mother shared, "We have no power. We have no control. We are simply forced to survive a reality we never chose." Those words have never left me. 

Another woman, with tears in her eyes, told us, "If you are poor or have no power, the world won't even bat an eye at your misery."  

It wasn't only their words or faces that stayed with me. It’s the weight they carried, the grief behind every smile, the exhaustion in their eyes, they are emotions that no language can truly describe. 

From an outsider, I thought I understood Syria. But even after seeing crisis with my own eyes, I know I will never fully understand what Syrians have lived through. 

No visitor can. No documentary can. No photograph can capture what it means to lose your home, your loved ones, your future but at least we can imagine its depth and choose to support. 

What moved me most was that after all the destruction, all the loss, and all the pain, I did not meet people who had given up. I met people with hope. People who wish others can understand their struggles and support them in starting over. 

After every conversation, almost all told us the same thing; we will stand up again. We will rebuild. We will keep fighting but we wish someone can fight with us.   

What breaks my heart even more is hearing Syrians being told to "go back home," when so many have nothing left to return to. Even for those who do, there are often no basic services, no reliable electricity, no clean water, and few opportunities to rebuild their lives and start again. 

I returned carrying emotions I still struggle to explain; sadness, anger, frustration, and emptiness. But most importantly, it reminded me of the importance of humanitarian work. It gave me an ever greater drive to bring Syrians' voices to the world and to remind the world that no human should face the consequences of an action they had no say in, alone. Syria doesn't only deserve empathy; it needs solidarity. Syrians need action today more than ever, as their struggles continue to grow every day. And they should never have to fight alone. 

#TogetherforSyria