One of those who didn't want to fight for Assad.. As he said.............
"On 1 August last year I was called up to Assad's army. I left immediately to Beirut, legally on my passport before they could stop me. Sunnis like me are sent to die on the frontline while Bashar and his clan sit safe at the back. I refused to fight against my own people." .
Weeping for a lost generation
By Diana DarkeSaarbrucken
Muhammad knows he is one of the lucky ones. While desperate migrants in Calais fling themselves at lorries heading to the UK and risk death trying to walk along the Channel Tunnel, this young Syrian refugee is living in comfort in Saarbrucken, south-west Germany.
I received his phone call out of the blue earlier this year.
"I am Muhammad," he said, "Ramzi's youngest brother."
"I will come to see you," I told him simply.
Ramzi, my dearest Syrian friend - Ramzi the philosopher as I sometimes called him - had died of a brain tumour two weeks earlier in the port city of Lattakia, and after an emotional phone call offering his mother and sisters my deep condolences, I had feared my links to his family were over.
Continue reading at:
Weeping for a lost generation - BBC News
"On 1 August last year I was called up to Assad's army. I left immediately to Beirut, legally on my passport before they could stop me. Sunnis like me are sent to die on the frontline while Bashar and his clan sit safe at the back. I refused to fight against my own people." .
Weeping for a lost generation
By Diana DarkeSaarbrucken
Muhammad knows he is one of the lucky ones. While desperate migrants in Calais fling themselves at lorries heading to the UK and risk death trying to walk along the Channel Tunnel, this young Syrian refugee is living in comfort in Saarbrucken, south-west Germany.
I received his phone call out of the blue earlier this year.
"I am Muhammad," he said, "Ramzi's youngest brother."
"I will come to see you," I told him simply.
Ramzi, my dearest Syrian friend - Ramzi the philosopher as I sometimes called him - had died of a brain tumour two weeks earlier in the port city of Lattakia, and after an emotional phone call offering his mother and sisters my deep condolences, I had feared my links to his family were over.
Continue reading at:
Weeping for a lost generation - BBC News
