We sat
on the pastel blue patio furniture right by the Dumbo ride, the one her two
precious children (who permanently settled into my heart) called “the flying
elephant toy” in Arabic. “What’s elephant in the foreign language?” her five-year-old
daughter asked me as I peeled the orange their mother had packed. “Elephant,” I
said, knowing the foreign language she meant was English. Suddenly she and her
brother started repeating the word through bites of cream cheese sandwiches
their mother had just made. “Elephant! Elephant! Elephant!”
It was a
typical Syrian spread in the middle of the Pinocchio seating area of Disneyland
and I felt like I was at home. Every Syrian knows it’s not a day out without kiri cheese sandwiches, fruit and tea.
“Where’s the tea?” her four-year-old son asked with a mouthful. His mother
laughed. “I had just finished packing it in a thermos when they came to pick us
up for this trip and I forgot it on the counter!” I laughed so hard because
only Arab kids would ask where’s the tea at 12:17 p.m. on a Sunday at
Disneyland.
The
weather had perfected itself wonderfully, as if it knew that this particular
Sunday was dedicated to homesick Syrians. A breeze broke through the silence
that followed our sighs of tranquility.
“You
know, it’s amazing how God plans things,” the mother started. I leaned in
closer to listen to the story I knew she wanted to share with me. “I’ve been
feeling so guilty since we got here to America because I can’t drive and I
don’t have a car, so I can’t really provide my children with opportunities to
have fun. Yesterday, another family, that was relocated here, let us know that
they were taking their children to the beach. They have a car and can easily
drive distances and it left my heart kind of aching that I couldn’t take my
children to go enjoy the beach, which is so close. Then, out of the blue, we
got a call a few hours later letting us know that we’re being taken to this
amusement park. Now, looking at what we’ve enjoyed, seeing my children having
this much fun, I realize how God was preparing something even more amazing than
the beach for my children and I’m so grateful.”
She left
me overwhelmed with a flurry of so many words and yet utter speechlessness. I
could only imagine what this day meant to them, a day of almost eight hours of
excitement and an escape from the turmoil of reality.
“What
part of Syria are you from?” I asked her earlier that day as we waited to ride
Peter Pan’s Adventure. “Homs,” she said with a hint of longing. “What about
you?” she said. “Damascus,” I replied, trying to make sense of the perfect
irony we were currently sitting in. Two Syrians in the middle of Disneyland,
wondering if they’ll ever see their country again, wondering how six years of
disaster had passed the way they did. How had our country and our people been
reduced to hashtags?
#PrayForSyria
#AleppoIsBurning #RefugeesWelcome #SyrianRefugeeCrisis
I
cautioned myself against asking questions that were too personal, especially on
a day like this. A day dedicated to pure joy that she and her children
deserved. Why talk about the escape? The transition? The ambivalence of home
hopping until finally being resettled in sunny SoCal where they still feel out
of place.
“It’s
amazing that you can speak Arabic as fluently as you do. How did that happen?”
I smiled and explained to her that my parents, immigrants to America, ensured
that their three children didn’t lose their roots and enrolled us in Arabic
schools. “Do you know any Arabic schools I can enroll these two in?” she asked
while we were waiting to finally ride the flying elephant (Dumbo). “I can see
them struggling to grasp the English and I want them to maintain Arabic too.”
I told
her I would look into it and help her out and then her two children jumped in.
“I want to ride with you!” they both started screaming, pulling my arms towards
the gray elephants. “But someone has to ride with Mustafa,” I said, motioning
to a fellow volunteer that had joined us, who shared with me that he too was a
refugee, years ago from Afghanistan. I was so grateful to have had him with us
because he was the most amazing spirit who made our day that much easier with
his kindness and support.
As we
approached the gate, we sweet-talked the little ones into agreeing to do a
rotation on every ride. “This time Zoozi will ride with me, then next time you
will,” I told the ecstatic little girl. I don’t have children, and for over a
decade I’ve made it clear that I may not want them (for a valid list of reasons
people should not hound me to provide, though I'd like to have some like these two), but I know what it feels like to
experience that moment of your heart exploding from true love. True Love.
I tasted
this when my youngest brother was a tiny little tot (who is now 20 year’s old!)
and we had many crazy adventures, but this day at Disneyland, after everything
I endured in the past few years, after becoming even more lovingly entangled in
the veins of my country, I sat beside this adorably heart melting pair and felt
this painfully beautifully pleasurable heart explosion.
To see a
child’s eyes widen—like they’re literally about to pop out of his head, to see
the jaw of a little girl drop so low, and to see them both gasp as they rose
from their seats in extreme amazement, that’s more than enough! What sealed the
deal was the moment we got on the It’s a Small World boat.
While in
line, we admired the lake below and described the ducks we saw. “Hey, I used to
see ducks like that back home in Syria,” Zoozi said with such energy. “Yeah,
what else?” We went on and on in conversation as he held my hand tightly,
bouncing back and forth as we inched closer to the ride. He gave me kisses and
hugs then told me he didn’t want popcorn because his favorite foods are
chocolate and halawa—a sesame based sweet we often snack on as Syrians. The kid
gave me stitches with all his adorable comedy that I couldn’t imagine leaving
him and his sister behind.
“Please
come visit us whenever you can,” their mother said as we hugged each other
goodbye. “Of course! I am already looking forward to it!” I always hated
leaving Disneyland, to me it really is a place of magic. My mother and I
nicknamed it “Therapy-land” because really, it has been for us and leaving is
hard but this time it was even harder.
The two
little children themselves hated the idea of leaving. They wanted to ride Dumbo
one more time, explore the castle further and find the “toys.” I realized the
“toys” they had been asking me about all day were activities that they could
actually do that were hands on, so I’m already considering planning a Chuck E.
Cheese trip because I know they’d love that.
My heart
felt empty on the drive home and it hurt. I pulled over to a random sushi bar
for a quick bite, brought along my poetry manuscript to edit and spent the
evening in deep contemplation. These are the people that politicians,
governments and ignorants fear? I only connected with one family, but there
were four more that had been on this Disney trip, each with another Arabic
speaking guide. I can only imagine how amazing the others are too. I can only
imagine how much these two little energetic, mature, witty, funny, sweet,
beautiful and loving children can thrive when given a platform of support—a
home that feels that way.
The best
thing was the way everyone treated us throughout Disneyland. Two women wearing
a headscarf, an exotic looking gentleman and then three children—we definitely
stood out, but for me it was nothing new. However, no one made us feel out of
place. If anything, people went out of their way to greet us (and I’m not
talking about the Disney cast members, I mean guests) and make us feel at home.
People laughed along as they saw the kids jump and down the closer we got to
the rides. People told us how adorable we first timers looked. One man offered
us some suggestions on where to take our kids and which rides are age
appropriate.
The
grand gesture was seeing that beautiful PEACE ON EARTH sign at the end of “It’s
a Small World” that left me in tears I quickly had to wipe so I could hold
Zoozi. How hard is that? How hard is it for humans to exercise kindness the way
we all did to one another throughout Disneyland? No one cared who we were, what
we looked like and where we came from. People genuinely cared to ensure that
not only did we have a good time as first timers (myself excluded), but also
got the opportunity to soak up all we could from the expertise they offered.
So, I
really do think that Disneyland is the happiest place on earth. At least I know
it was last Sunday for five Syrian families—new Americans—who got to spend an
entire day experiencing the magic long overdue. I just hope the rest of the
world learns to embrace this same magic and welcome the many innocent and
beautiful souls who deserve to live in peace, safely.
May
there be peace on earth! May there be peace in Syria!
