Aleppo - The Last Farewell
Aleppo - The Last Farewell Amr Halabi | Al Jazeera Correspondent
Unconcerned about the shells and bullets that flew over my head, I ran towards my home in Aleppo in the middle of the night. Fear of death evaporates when you realise it would not be worse than living in such an inferno. At home, friends and relatives were crammed in like inmates in a tiny prison cell. “Pack your things,” I told my wife. The Syrian regime, the Russians and the Iranians had failed to agree on the evacuation of civilians. “The regime’s forces are around the corner. We leave by dawn,” I added. Sending our loved ones to the regime-held areas was the least of many evils. Otherwise, all would be buried under the ruins of the city. The regime’s airstrikes and barrel bombs would level the city to the ground. Women and children would be sent to the regime- held areas. For us, men, two things were certain: death or detention. The Assad regime and its supporting militias had started their campaign on Aleppo from the east; towns were falling one after the other, under heavy shelling by Russian warplanes. All types of missiles and bombs were used. Nothing was spared – not schools, not hospitals, not even mosques. All were considered legitimate targets. It was a Doomsday.
Armed opposition fighters, along with 350,000 civilian residents, were trapped in a small pocket to the southeast of the city. Residents flocked to the regime’s areas. Some managed to cross safely, others were torn to pieces under the shelling. Seconds before I was about to say my final farewells to my family, the opposition negotiation officer ran to me. “Hold on Amro. Do not send your family across. The Russians have agreed to a ceasefire and evacuation of civilians. It is the result of international pressures,” he said. I felt resurrected. Immediately, I went live on air, to continue covering the largest refugee and displacement crisis in the region, if not the whole world. It was like the Day of Judgment. A huge exodus. Thousands of trapped civilians ran for their lives; saying goodbye to their city for the last time. Some tried to collect what they could; others to burn down what was left behind.
At the first light of morning, evacuation buses lined up. Before embarking on one, I stood on a rising pile of debris, trying to recall a lifetime of memories, from my school days through to the current war and siege. I switched on my phone camera and started recording: “It is time to say farewell. Behind me are my fellow Aleppo residents, running for their lives, leaving behind not only their possessions, but mountains of memories. This could be the last farewell, Amro Halabi, Aleppo.”
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