Post by Sherwan Qasem

Fourteen years ago, when I left my small town in north‑east Syria, I felt as if a part of my soul was torn away and stayed behind. I carried the rest of me forward, but something was always missing. Last Saturday in Rotterdam, while walking through an exhibition presenting 400 testimonies of people forced to leave their countries, that missing part felt very close again. The exhibition was deeply powerful. These 400 stories, brought together through art and performance, were created through long and dedicated work by my colleague Batoul, together with many artists and actors. They make visible what it means to leave everything behind. As I read the testimonies, I recognized my mother’s white hair, my brother’s longing, and the wide blue sky of my small town. I thought of the part of my soul that stayed behind, guarding my mother in her sixties in a country still suffering from war; guarding my father’s and my sister’s graves beside my grandparents on that small hill near the Turkish border, overlooking the plains of Mesopotamia; guarding the grapevines that my father and I planted 30 years ago. Leaving your country, even voluntarily, is always painful. But it is far more painful when you are forced to leave, and when you cannot return whenever you wish. Since I left, many things have changed. I have been able to build a life and do meaningful work, and Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF)/Artsen zonder Grenzen Nederland has been a big part of that journey. I love the Netherlands and I am grateful to be a citizen of this country, yet a part of me will always miss my first home. It was important to speak with our donors who visited us that day and to discuss the deeply human side of these stories.