'Hani Abbas is a double displaced person. His family was first displaced from Palestine to settle in Syria, and after the Syrian war broke out, he also was displaced from a refugee camp near Damascus. Today, Abbas is one of the world’s recognized cartoonists. In 2014, he was selected for the “Cartoon for Peace” award by former UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan.
Abbas' story began in Yarmouk camp for Palestinian refugees where he was born and lived with his family. Drawing and painting images, he powerfully captured and illustrated the hopes, fears and disillusionment of a new generation.
During the Syrian uprising, he was inspired by what was happening around him and the stories of those who left or died. He described his feelings when he was painting a new piece in Syria. “Imagine every piece you are painting could be your last piece, or maybe you will not be able to finish it. All those emotions and passion blended into me doing my best art at that time,” he said.
After being presented the award in Geneva, Abbas sought asylum in Switzerland, hoping to find safety and security for his wife and two children.
“I still remember my last few months in Syria. I was besieged in the Damascus countryside, and bombardment was taking place in the area. Drawing under shelling was terrifying,” he said.
Abbas said he cannot compare the art he makes now to the art he made in Syria. “My art is now different, or maybe I should say the feelings about it. When I was drawing in Syria, I was in direct touch with the actions, living in danger. That gave me energy and hope in the change that might come.”
Still, he expressed profound disappointment at the lack of international efforts to hold the Syrian régime accountable and to get them to relinquish control. He wrapped up his interview saying, “I am dreaming every day about going back to Syria … but I will never return before that criminal régime is toppled.”
College student Anas al-Kholi was among the first to take to the streets, alarmed at the rising brutality pitted against people’s daily lives. His phone was his weapon, documenting the unfolding days, the demonstrations, attacks, fighting, fire, or from time to time, the celebration of a wedding. He wanted to be close to the frontline, on the frontline, where Syrian life was being ripped apart — bullets flying in every direction, bombs falling, rockets exploding. He was repeatedly injured by the shelling and bombings, but kept on pulling threw and documenting again.
Kholi was documenting abuses on all sides, both governmental and opposition. Opposition groups wanted him to cover only the régime violations, but not theirs. When he turned his camera on them, they arrested and imprisoned him.
He tells of his forced evacuation from his hometown of Ghouta, in Damascus countryside, along with thousands of others, when chemical weapons were reportedly used.
“On April 1, 2018, the evacuation began from my town after a bloody time and chemical attacks killed hundreds of civilians. I was evacuated to northern Syria.”
He stayed in northern Syria until early 2019 when his journey brought him away from his country. “I crossed to Turkey seeking medical attention for my daughter and myself. At the same time, I applied for asylum at the French Consulate in Istanbul.” He was one of the luckier Syrians. “My request was accepted, and I moved to Strasbourg in France in June 2019,” he added.
His work was a mix of humanitarian, political and fun stuff from time to time. But now he is away from any political work; he thinks there is no reason to do political activities these days as long as the international community has no will to take down the Syrian government. “I believe that if the international community wanted to take Assad out, they could have done that since 2012. The political work from Syrians now is useless; even doing it now after all that destruction and loss is just wasting time.”
He still has his sense of humor, even after all the horrors he witnessed and suffered. “Always the first 100 years of a revolution will be tough, but then it will get easier, or we get used to it,” he concluded.
When the revolution broke out in 2011, Mohammad Abdullah, or as he prefers to be called Artino, was working as a supervisor at the Apple store in Damascus. The revolution drew him and his camera into the streets, documenting the unfolding history. In 2013, he was filming clashes between the Free Syrian Army and Syrian forces when he was hit by a mortar bomb.
He lost his knee, broke his leg, collarbone and finger. That triggered his treacherous journey to find medical care, leading him far from his homeland. “I had to leave Syria because I needed many surgeries that are impossible to do in a besieged area,” he said. “I was smuggled through many Syrian towns and across the border to Lebanon.”
Artino still holds Syria close, saying, “I would love to go as soon as possible to see my family, my neighborhood, the streets where I used to play. But as long as this régime is there, I would not be able to go back.” '
