“My friend Somar, you are alive and soon you’ll be among your family and friends… I am sure of that… Sure I will see you again”
That sentence above was written by a friend of mine on another friend’s Facebook wall. The guy was supposed to be in “Jobar” a place which was bombed yesterday. They couldn’t hear anything from him since then. The words written reminded me of another guy named “Humam”, an old friend of my brother. When I mention his name I recall his picture as a little boy. He was a very short boy, much shorter than my brother which made him always look younger than the rest of the boys. He used to come over wearing a white shirt usually and black pants with his brown hair tidily combed from the right to the left like the old days. His white pale skin makes you feel he’s sick maybe or he needs to eat more. It always caught my eye how organized that boy was, how he rides the bike with his straight spine and how he folds his handkerchief gently and slowly, unlike the other boys. I never actually thought this little white rabbit is going to be a strong grown up.
Unlike my expectations, that little boy became a strong grownup with a little mustache and a beard. I saw his picture on Facebook. I said smiling “Oh look who’s become a big man now!” then I noticed he was carrying a riffle maybe longer than the boy I used to know (him). I knew later that he was one of the guards protecting Al Kindi Hospital in Aleppo. The comment below said “the present absent, Humam, we are waiting for you… your family)… I was frozen for sometime, my eyes were hanged on the comment and couldn’t say a single word. I haven’t seen him since a very long time but… that was different. Humam was also “lost” after the big explosion of Al Kindi hospital. The explosion eliminated the hospital, nothing was left there. And Humam is “lost”. The stones of the hospital couldn’t stand against the flames but his family’s hope and faith could. They are still WAITING for him.
Two months ago was Humam and today is Somar. Those who are “lost” may never get back. They may like their absence and obscurity. But who knows, they also may find their ways back. I hope the road is clear and lit for them to be back someday. I pray…