I have recently noticed that most of the kitchenware I have is plastic, the kind that’s for short-term use only. This plastic kitchenware, which may seem a minor issue, has made me realise that I still don’t feel stable and haven’t been able to convince myself that this place is my final destination. I still sleep on a mattress on the floor, with the small bag that I carried during my journey nearby.
I am a forcibly displaced woman from eastern Ghouta, an area on the edge of the Syrian capital of Damascus. I lived there with my family throughout the revolution until March of this year, when the Assad regime escalated its attacks on Ghouta and eventually recaptured it. The regime’s soldiers forced us to choose between living under Assad’s control, or fleeing to the opposition-held north-west of the country, currently home to more than 1.3 million displaced Syrians.
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