In 2013, Mahmoud was forced to leave Syria due to the war. In Jordan, he encountered violence but also found a path to redemption through humanitarian work. Now, he dreams of returning home and contributing to the reconstruction of a country in turmoil.
By Guglielmo Rapino
When the war broke out, he did not leave immediately.
He worked as a receptionist in a luxury hotel near Dar’a, a well-known tourist destination an hour from Damascus. The thought of abandoning everything for an uncertain future was daunting. And then there was his family – a deep network of relationships extending to distant relatives, forming an integral part of the household in Syrian culture.
As the bombings became more frequent, his two sisters and elderly parents decided to leave everything behind and cross the border into Jordan at night. Carrying only a bundle of clothes and a few intricately crafted gold necklaces as their sole belongings, they fled.
But Mahmoud stayed behind with his younger brother, clinging to the hope that Allah would restore peace to a land that had lost all sense of it.
Weeks passed, and the empty hotel became a shelter during airstrikes and the sporadic shelling from passing tanks.
Two years into the Syrian war, Mahmoud was confronted with reality: a desolate home, streets torn apart by explosions, and the hotel reception desk riddled with bullet holes. The land that had shaped his life had become unrecognisable. When the roar of helicopters ceased, fear and hunger filled the silence.
In 2013, he too decided to flee with his younger brother – crossing the border at night, just as his family had done, to avoid falling under the watchful eyes of soldiers hidden behind sandbag barricades.
Once in Jordan, Mahmoud became one of thousands of Syrian refugees gathered in border camps, with a UNHCR card in his pocket to secure at least one meal a day and a plastic-covered mattress in a shared tent with eight other men to sleep on at night.
His mother and the rest of the family had settled in Karak, in the south of the country, taken in by a distant relative. In the Middle East, family ties serve as a refuge in both good times and bad, turning living rooms into bedrooms for anyone in need. Mahmoud and his brother soon joined them in Karak, sharing a small room with their family and making do with meals of white rice and boiled potatoes to stretch their limited savings.
Unfortunately, work was scarce.
Despite the initial generosity of the Jordanian people, laws restricted employment opportunities for refugees. Where legal barriers did not exist, the unspoken resistance of local tribal communities did, as they sought to protect job opportunities for their own amidst an increasing demand.
Months of despair and odd jobs followed – working as a shop assistant in a university bookstore and as an apprentice artisan in the local market.
Then, INTERSOS launched a project in Karak, seeking professionals to support Syrian communities and lead awareness campaigns. Though he had little experience, Mahmoud applied. His years as a receptionist had sharpened his communication skills, and his resourcefulness in recent months had made him adaptable. He passed the interviews and secured the position.
As a Syrian, Mahmoud found himself visiting community centres, schools, public squares, and markets where his fellow refugees gathered. There, he organised awareness sessions on gender equality, child labour prevention, and the social support available to refugees striving to sustain their families.
He excelled in his role – speaking in the familiar dialect of the women and young people he addressed, some of whom already knew him and trusted him.
The following year, he was promoted to social worker. A few years later, he became the head of the refugee protection team in Karak. Today, a decade after arriving in Jordan, Mahmoud is a project coordinator with INTERSOS for the entire southern region of the country.
He still carries his UNHCR card, marking him as a refugee, but now he lives in a rented home with his mother and sisters instead of a tent.
Since the fall of the Assad regime, after years of darkness and uncertainty, he sees a glimmer of hope – the possibility of returning to his blessed yet beleaguered homeland. Despite this newfound hope, he remains acutely aware of the ongoing complexities. While the world around him speaks of newfound freedom, he waits patiently for clarity, holding onto the quiet dream of reuniting with the neighbours and extended family who remained on the other side of the border.
In Mahmoud’s story – his composed yet complex happiness, his resilience in the face of an imposed destiny – lies the narrative of hundreds of thousands of people forced to leave behind a beloved home to build a future wherever possible.
His journey has led him to become a pillar of support for his community. And perhaps, one day, it will grant him the joy of returning home as a son of his own land once more. For many other Syrians, however, that future remains trapped in the silence of border crossings or lost in the cold, relentless waves of the Mediterranean.
*Guglielmo Rapino is INTERSOS Programme Coordinator in Jordan since 2024