A Woman in the Crossfire by Samar Yazbek Page B

spread about me among the Alawites, provoking everyone on the coast against me. I must remain calm in order to make sure my daughter is going to be all right even after being threatened she would come to harm. Despite this, I decide to become even more active on the ground with the young people of the uprising, whether at demonstrations or in terms of providing assistance to those young people who had gone underground in order to work for the revolution ever since the security apparatus started following them. These days require a lot more effort, especially in light of the policy of media militarization to which the regime has resorted. We need voices to convey to the media what is actually happening, but most of the young people have been locked up, or will be arrested immediately after appearing on any satellite network.
    As of today the Syrian border with Jordan has been closed for five days. The Syrian authorities closed it, and all economic life between Dar‘a and al-Ramtha has stopped. 50 martyrs in one week, and the news is still ambiguous. Under the weight of the security forces, the soldiers and the shabbiha , the people of Dar‘a live in obscurity and darkness. News about them is vague, but the stench of death is obvious. Two days ago the son of a representative in the People’s Assembly appeared on television with tears in his eyes, saying, “No matter what’s happening in Dar‘a, why have they cut off the electricity and water, why are they starving the people, why won’t they let people bury their dead, why won’t they help the wounded?” Of course, it is obvious that the regime wants to teach all of Syria a lesson through Dar‘a, even if they have to exterminate every last person in the process.
    Still no news in the afternoon. The army surrounds Damascus, its trucks and its soldiers patrol the city. Daraya is cut off from its surroundings and we hear that the power has been cut, as the people there fear the snipers who deploy up on the rooftops at night. The full strength of the army mobilizes along the Lebanese and Jordanian borders. There are major incursions in several cities. Now, at two in the afternoon, there are demonstrations in Amuda and Latakia, and there is perpetual news about gunfire. I am still waiting.
    I sit at home next to my daughter after she returns from two weeks back in the village. She tells me impatiently, “They’re going to kill you. In the village they said they’re going to kill you. Everybody’s saying that, everybody’s cursing you and insulting you, and in Jableh they were handing out flyers accusing you of treason!”
    I assure her that I am not going to leave the house, that I will stay there with her. She is happily following the marriage of Prince William and Kate. I try to find out online what is going on in the Syrian cities but she asks me to get off the computer and sit with her. I remain silent as she cries and accuses me of abandoning her. I try explaining to her what happened to me, how the security apparatus has smeared my name and incited people to kill me in order to silence the voice of truth. She argues that the situation isn’t worth sacrificing my life for, and that she doesn’t have anyone else in the whole wide world except for me. I fall silent and go to my room to cry. I don’t want her to see my tears, even as she continues yelling. I let her yell as long as she wants, because I know how much pressure she has been under in the village and in Jableh.
    Now security prevents people from making it to the demonstration squares in all the cities of Syria. In Homs security surrounds the district of al-Bayyada and imposes a curfew.
    In al-Qamishli the people come out to demonstrate. People emerge from the mosque in the al-Maydan district of Damascus. There are tear gas canisters and ten buses filled with security agents who beat up the demonstrators scattered throughout the neighbourhoods