My name is Abdalla from Syria, I am 17 years old. I was born and lived in Damascus for 13 years before I moved to live with my relatives in the north of Aleppo for one and a half years. I had many friends in Damascus. They called me Ekvillen. This is my nickname and my friends have nicknames too.
On 8th March 2011 the war started in my country. Most people when the war started said that this crisis would not drag on. They said the longest it would continue was one year. But the reality was quite different. Now the crisis has spread to six years, not one year, and still has not ended. When the extent of this crisis hit home, some of them decided to stay at home and fight them. Many fled to neighbouring countries, but some decided to migrate to European countries. My family was one of those who hoped to live in Europe, to complete their studies and to live in peace and tranquility.
If you want to get to Europe, you have to go undergo ‘dangerous and difficult’ steps. The first one is the hardest: crossing into Turkey. Most people choose to smuggle themselves. My family and I opted for this. We crossed by walking from Syria to Turkey through the mountains. After arriving in Turkey, you have to get one of the places close to Greece. The next step is to cross from Turkey into Greece by sea in a small boat that does not exceed the length of nine metres and the width of one meter and a half. Riding inside are at least thirty people, and I was with my family.
Every step of this journey from Syria to here filled me with a strange feeling inside, somewhere in between scared and excited to reach the new step.
And here I conclude by saying a few words: the ink is running out, now, and the paper too, but my words take flight to tell you that I hope you find what you are looking for in your life; and what you wish is granted as soon as possible.
Finally, I offer my thanks to you. The person writing this no longer recognises himself.