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I remember being in my grandparents’ town. My grandfather has a lot of land with only two kinds of trees, cherry and olive. Every summer at the beginning of May we start our vacation there. It’s a small town with a big green mountain, a valley and endless flat land.

The land was most beautiful in the afternoon. I remember laying under a heavy loaded cherry tree. The branches would lean down from the weight of the cherries, and all I had to do was lift my hands and pick that sweet fresh shining cherry in an amazing-peaceful environment while enjoying the little birds singing in the background. That is one of the memories that I try to hold on to, because war can effect the memory in a strange way. War can change even the sweet memories and dress them with black and sorrow. The cherry tree in my mind is the strongest memory that is keeping my home in me.

The land was most beautiful in the afternoon. I remember laying under a heavy loaded cherry tree. The branches would lean down from the weight of the cherries, and all I had to do was lift my hands and pick that sweet fresh shining cherry in an amazing-peaceful environment while enjoying the little birds singing in the background. That is one of the memories that I try to hold on to, because war can effect the memory in a strange way. War can change even the sweet memories and dress them with black and sorrow. The cherry tree in my mind is the strongest memory that is keeping my home in me.

I never used to be a stranger or a foreigner. Some people choose to change homes, while others are forced to. Fish can not live without water, that’s how I always felt about my home: Aleppo, Syria.

After two years of bad living conditions, I left home on January 18^th 2014. It started with a lack of food, water and electricity. Then ended with a direct life threatening situation where fear is man’s only friend. I got shot at many times, and hunted by people carrying many different types of weapons: AK47, snipers, 14.5 machine guns, 23mm anti-air machine guns, a few mortar bombs, a few huge barrel bombs and 2 or 3 heavy artillery shell bombs. The house I lived in got bombed many times before I left, and destroyed right after I left. That’s why I had to leave home.

The only available choice at that time was to leave to Turkey, the south is almost like Syria but without war. The first few days I sat in the dark thirsty because I was used to having no electricity or running water at home. I used to ask my brother when we walked in town: “Is this road safe? Is there a sniper at the end?” And I used to hide when I heard a plane flying in the sky. After a little while I got back to normal, but the nightmares never have stopped.

I got my first job as a farmer, my job was to dig small holes in the ground and plant orange trees. Only a few hours after I had started, the boss noticed that I was slower than the others. He came over and started talking to me: “So you are a Syrian? … tell me about Syria.”

I started talking: “I am an engineer, I’m 27 years old and in Syria its like …… etc.”

I remember that I kept talking for maybe 15 minutes until he interrupted me to say: “Look, I do not care who you are or what you were… now you are working for me, you dig holes, dig faster or leave.”

I was expecting him to say something like: “Oh I am sorry to hear that,” but that was one of the strangest reactions I got in my life.

I am a tough man, but that did not keep me from holding back my tears after he left me to do my job. That was the first time I felt that above all I lost, I also lost my soul. That is what it means to lose home. Being home or being a foreigner is like the difference between the cherry tree and the orange tree….

I am a foreigner now, but that wont stop me of seeking home again.

In Norway i feel safe and welcomed by many people and friends. I will keep seeking love and peace here, I will plant my cherry tree here in the hearts of all the people who see me as a normal human with a big heart and hope for a better life.

By: Ahmad Dabbagh