{"id":3198,"date":"2026-04-08T12:16:36","date_gmt":"2026-04-08T10:16:36","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/?p=3198"},"modified":"2026-04-09T13:22:16","modified_gmt":"2026-04-09T11:22:16","slug":"a-voice-from-exile-telling-syrias-untold-stories","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/a-voice-from-exile-telling-syrias-untold-stories\/","title":{"rendered":"A voice from exile : telling Syria\u2019s untold stories"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>Ebrahim Mahfoud is the author of <a href=\"https:\/\/archive.org\/details\/larmes-au-bord-de-la-memoire\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><em>Tears at the Edge of Memory<\/em><\/a>. Published online on February 3, 2026, this work of literary journalism straddles reportage, testimony, and introspective analysis. The book is not published commercially, intended solely to bear witness.<\/p>\n<figure id=\"attachment_8244\" aria-describedby=\"caption-attachment-8244\" style=\"width: 456px\" class=\"wp-caption aligncenter\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"wp-image-8244 \" src=\"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/04\/Capture-decran-2026-04-08-a-12.05.02.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"456\" height=\"553\" \/><figcaption id=\"caption-attachment-8244\" class=\"wp-caption-text\">\u00a9 Ebrahim Mahfoud.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<p>The writer, a member of <a href=\"https:\/\/www.engaje.be\/english\/repertoire\/page\/3\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\">En-Gaje<\/a>, provides a deeply painful and detailed account of what he experienced in Syrian prisons. He explains that torture was not just an occasional act, but a systematic and daily practice designed to break human beings. Beatings, humiliation, starvation, and deprivation of the most basic human rights were routine, and almost every prisoner endured them.<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong><em>&#8220;My main message is simple but important: behind every war, there are human beings. Real people with names, families, dreams, and pain. I want readers to understand that what they see in the news is only a small part of the reality.&#8221;<\/em><\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>However, what affected him most were the executions. Prisoners were hanged without any fair process, often without explanation. These executions were carried out as if human life had no value without emotion, without hesitation, and in front of other detainees. He emphasises that these moments created not only fear, but also a profound numbness and shock, as death became something ordinary and repetitive.<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong><em>&#8220;For me personally, writing was also a way to survive. If I didn\u2019t express what I lived, it would destroy me from the inside. So, this book is both a message to others and a way for me to continue living.&#8221;<\/em><\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>For him, these experiences are not just memories, but lasting wounds that permanently changed his understanding of humanity and the value of human life.<\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">Why did you decide to write this book ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;The idea came from something very simple but very shocking to me. While living in Europe, I met many people in Belgium, Italy, Germany, France, and other countries. When they understood that I was Syrian, they asked me about Syria. I expected them to have a basic knowledge, but I discovered that many people didn\u2019t really know what happened. Their understanding was limited to what they saw in the media, often reduced to a \u201ccivil war\u201d or a fight between a regime and terrorists.<\/em><\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong><em>&#8220;Writing became both a personal necessity and a moral duty.&#8221;<\/em><\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><em>But Syria is much more complex than that. There are human stories, emotions, daily struggles, and realities that are never shown. I felt a responsibility inside me. I could not stay silent. I wanted to give people here another perspective something closer to the truth, or at least a part of it. At the same time, writing was not only for others. It was also for me. After everything I lived through, I needed a way to express, to survive, to make sense of my experiences. Writing became both a personal necessity and a moral duty.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">What is your book about ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;The book is a combination of journalism and storytelling. It is structured in four main chapters, each one focusing on a different aspect of the Syrian experience. The first chapter is about my time in Palmyra prison. It includes five stories based on what I saw, felt, and understood during those months. It is not only about me, but about the people around me, and what it means to lose your dignity as a human being.<\/em><\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong><em>&#8220;The final chapter is composed of short stories. These are more emotional and sometimes based on imagination, but always rooted in real events.&#8221;<\/em><\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><em>The second chapter focuses on people who survived closeness to death. These are powerful testimonies from people who were on the margin between life and death and somehow came back. Their stories show both the brutality of war and the strength of human survival. The third chapter is more journalistic. It contains reports from border countries like Lebanon and Turkey, where many Syrian refugees live. It explores their daily lives, their struggles, and the reality of displacement. The final chapter is composed of short stories. These are more emotional and sometimes based on imagination, but always rooted in real events. They deal with death, loss, and the invisible pain carried by families and communities.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">You mentioned prison. When were you imprisoned, and why ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;I was imprisoned between 1997 and 1998 during my mandatory military service. The reason was not political in the beginning. It was something very simple that became very serious. I had a conflict with my superior officer after he insulted my mother. For me, that was unacceptable. I reacted, and because of that, I was punished. In that system, small things can become very big. I was sent to prison for six months. At that time, I did not know that this experience would change my life completely. It was not just a punishment; it was an introduction to a hidden world that many people never see.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">What affected you most during your time in prison ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;People often expect me to talk about physical torture, and yes, it existed. But what truly shocked me was something deeper. It was the complete loss of the value of human life. I saw people being killed in front of me without hesitation, without emotion, as if it meant nothing. There was no reaction, no humanity in those moments. It was like human beings had become objects. Even animals are sometimes treated with more compassion. That is what stayed with me: the realisation that a system can reduce a person to nothing. That memory never left me, and it became one of the main reasons I started writing later in my life.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">How did that experience influence your writing ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;In 2007, I spent a single day in prison for speaking out against the regime. When I returned home, I poured onto paper the sights, the sounds, and the feelings I had carried with me without thinking, almost as if they wrote themselves. I fell asleep, exhausted but relieved. The next morning, my friend read what I had written and said,&#8221;This is powerful. The world needs to see it.&#8221; That moment changed everything. I realised that my words could express the voices of those who could not speak. <\/em><\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong><em>&#8220;Over time, I understood that storytelling was not only about describing events, but about transmitting feelings, memories, and truths that are often ignored.&#8221;<\/em><\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><em>After I left prison, I did not immediately decide to become a writer. It happened naturally. At first, I didn\u2019t believe it. But I sent the text to a publication, and surprisingly, it was accepted. That moment changed everything. It showed me that my experiences could have a meaning outside myself. From then on, I continued writing. Over time, I understood that storytelling was not only about describing events, but about transmitting feelings, memories, and truths that are often ignored.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">What kind of stories do you tell in your book ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;The stories are very diverse. Some are based on my direct experiences, like prison. Others come from people I met or events I witnessed indirectly. And in some cases, I use imagination to reconstruct emotional realities.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>One of the most powerful stories is about a seven-year-old girl during a bombing. She was in a destroyed building, on the seventh floor, I think, and managed to hold and protect her one-and-a-half-year-old baby sister for hours under the rubble. She refused to let go of her, even as everything collapsed around them. When rescuers finally arrived, they were able to save the baby. But the girl herself died shortly after. She gave everything to protect her sister. This story represents something very important to me. It shows innocence, sacrifice, and love in the middle of destruction. Even in the worst moments, humanity still exists. That is the kind of truth I try to capture in my writing.<\/em><\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong><em>&#8220;I believe that telling the truth even when it is dangerous is a duty. If we step back out of fear, nothing will ever change.&#8221;<\/em><\/strong><\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p><em>This story became more than just my story. It became a vivid image for the world of a young girl\u2019s courage and her profound sense of responsibility towards her younger sister, both of them mercilessly caught in the horrors of an unwanted war. It grew into a symbol of civilian resistance against injustice, and I felt a deep personal duty to bring these untold stories to light through a book, so the world could witness them. I know this story is probably not the only one. Thousands more lie buried beneath the earth, forgotten, with the voices of their families silenced. I have continued to tell some of these stories through the creation of a multi-story documentary, giving life and voice to those who have been left unheard.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">Did you make criticisms, for example, regarding the current government ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;Yes. The article I wrote about al-Jolani a few years ago was not just a critical piece, but an attempt to express a truth that many are afraid to speak about. After it was published, indirect messages were sent to my family in Syria, warning them that I should stop writing and refrain from criticism. These threats were not new to me, but their weight becomes heavier when your family is involved. Despite this pressure, I did not remain silent. I believe that telling the truth even when it is dangerous is a duty. If we step back out of fear, nothing will ever change. For me, writing is not just a choice, but a responsibility towards my people and towards myself, and that is why I am not afraid to speak the truth.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">Did you also work on documentaries ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;Yes, I worked on a documentary about four Syrians who survived near death. Each story was unique but connected by the same theme: survival against impossible odds. The filming took place in different locations, including Germany and Syria, with the help of my team on the ground. It was a very challenging project, especially because of the distance and the situation inside Syria.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>Unfortunately, the documentary was never officially published. The difficulties were not about the content itself, but about external conditions: logistics, access, and other complications. Still, the experience was very important for me as a storyteller. For example, one of the stories is about a doctor who was working in a field hospital in a small town, and that town was bombed. He was also one of the victims. Or the story of a seven-year-old girl who was targeted by a sniper and could no longer walk. She now lives in Germany.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">How was your book produced and translated ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;I used available tools to help translate the book into French, and some friends supported me by reviewing and correcting it. I didn\u2019t have the financial resources to hire professionals, so I had to learn everything step by step. It was difficult, but also very rewarding. It made the book even more personal. For me, the goal was never profit. I wanted the stories to exist, to be accessible, and to reach people. That was the most important thing.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">Do you think your experience in Europe changed your mission ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;Yes, very much. In the Arab world, people are already familiar with what has been happening in Syria, but in Europe, the situation is very different. Many people here have little or no understanding of the conflict, and what they do know often comes through simplified media narratives. <\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>Being in Europe made me realise that as an exiled journalist I have not only to remember and document the past but also to explain it, to provide context, and to humanise the stories behind the headlines. I feel that I occupy a unique position where I can connect two worlds: one that I lived through the events and one that I have only heard about from a distance. <\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>This responsibility has given my work new meaning and a renewed sense of purpose. It is not enough to recount facts. I must convey the emotions, the struggles, and the resilience of the people affected, so that their experiences are understood and felt beyond the borders of Syria. Being here has made me more aware of the importance of bearing witness and of sharing these untold stories with a wider audience.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">Are you planning to return to Syria ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;I want to return, especially because my mother is very sick. For me, family is very important, and I feel a strong responsibility to be with her. But the situation is complicated. I have written critical articles about different authorities, and I don\u2019t know how I would be treated if I return. There is a risk of arrest, or worse. Still, I feel that I must try. Sometimes, you have to take risks for the people you love.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">How has your journey shaped you as a person ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;My journey has been full of suffering, but also of meaning. I lost many friends, and I saw things that are very difficult to describe. At the same time, I believe that everything happens for a reason. Maybe if I had stayed in Syria, I would never have written this book or shared these stories. Now, I see my life as a responsibility. I carry these stories not only for myself, but for all the people who cannot tell them anymore.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong style=\"font-size: 19px;font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif\">What is your main message to readers ?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><em>&#8220;My main message is simple but important: behind every war, there are human beings. Real people with names, families, dreams, and pain. I want readers to understand that what they see in the news is only a small part of the reality. There are many untold stories, many voices that are never heard.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><em>For me personally, writing was also a way to survive. If I didn\u2019t express what I lived, it would destroy me from the inside. So, this book is both a message to others and a way for me to continue living. I\u2019ll continue writing, telling the truth, and sharing the difficult stories. And I am not afraid to risk my life.&#8221;<\/em><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>In this interview,\u00a0 Ebrahim Mahfoud, a Syrian writer and journalist shares his journey from military imprisonment to becoming a voice for his people. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":3199,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[139],"tags":[501,427,502,447],"coauthors":[45],"class_list":["post-3198","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-stories","tag-book","tag-exile","tag-stories","tag-syria"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3198","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3198"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3198\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3200,"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3198\/revisions\/3200"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3199"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3198"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3198"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3198"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/medialatitudes.be\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=3198"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}