On the 10th of October 2010, my father, a hard-working doctor who had dedicated his life to the UK's National Health Service, gained our family British citizenship. 5 months later, our home country Syria descended into civil war, spiralling quickly into a full-blown conflict. Home was but a distant memory and we were now coming to terms with this reality in the place my father happened to be working at the time; the city of Lancaster.

It was the winter of 2010, and I was watching the events that were unfolding around the world from Lancaster. The Arab Spring had begun - first the Jasmine revolution in Tunisia, followed by Egypt. I was watching Tahir square in full meltdown on television, flicking from station to station, the images of the crowds growing larger and larger and waiting out the countdown for the end of the reign of Hosni Mubarak. My father hoped to protect me from the brutality that had claimed his eldest brother, but by the heart and guts the conflicts had drawn me in and I needed to know what was happening.

Syria, which was the last in the string of pearls of the revolutions, began as a peaceful one. But as I write this, 10 years on, the revolution has since spiralled into a gruesome, brutal, seemingly forever war. As I followed the events on the news, I tried not to draw comparisons with other wars, but it was difficult not to do so. There were the same floods of refugees, the same burnt out villages, and women driven out in terror because militia were on the march and they feared being raped. After all, despite the lessons learnt from the brutality of wars in the 1990s; Rwanda, Somalia, Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Chechnya, it was being allowed to happen again. I was warned not to follow the news in Syria because “you will be angry all the time and it is an anger you will never be able to reconcile”. Even so, I did.

Initially, my home city Aleppo had not been affected by the turmoil to the same extent seen elsewhere in Syria. I was therefore privileged to be able to still visit. Subsequently, on an early morning in July 2011 I made what would be my final trip to Aleppo. I had come to Syria to visit my family, completely oblivious that this would be the last time I saw my beloved Aleppo as I knew her. Upon arrival, I was greeted by an enormous colour portrait of Bashar al-Assad, his already vivid eyes tinted blue to make that colour even more intense. The atmosphere in Aleppo was one of paranoia, family members compared it to the old days in Iraq under Saddam Hussein. It was an unspoken quality, a silence despite the blaring horns of the traffic. At this point, Syria was just on the brink, and the war descended with stunning velocity with the world just watching.

After witnessing the disorder and destruction of my homeland, I abandoned my childhood dream of following in the footsteps of my father to become a doctor, and instead chose to pursue a career in law. The driving force behind this change was my longing desire for justice and accountability, to fight for the oppressed, and to provide a voice for the voiceless. This desire inspired my selection of modules to study, including International Law and Mass Atrocities & War Crimes. Every lecture that passes, I feel one step closer to making this dream a reality.

For me, the injustices of the Arab Spring began when I was in Lancaster. Therefore, it only felt right that I ascertain the knowledge and power in the very place that would unexpectedly become my new home. 10 years on, the year is 2021. This is the year I graduate with a Bachelor of Laws.

In recent years, I have witnessed the people of Lancaster opening their hearts and their arms to families fleeing the ongoing war in my home country. From the moment they arrived, they were welcomed not as burdens, but as neighbours and friends - as new Lancastrians. Lancaster's generosity is beautiful proof of the power of human kindness and empathy that shines through even in the most challenging times. In an age where hate and intolerance is on the rise, there are people who practice kindness. Everyday there are humans who lift up the downtrodden. The people of Lancaster, through their kindness and acceptance have epitomised this and have chosen hope over fear and diversity over division.

As my time here in Lancaster comes to an end, I would like to thank the kind and caring community for their unmatched support over the years and ask for one last favour. I have started a fundraiser that aims to alleviate the human suffering of refugees and victims of war. I will be virtually cycling the distance from Lancaster Castle, to the Aleppo Citadel in Syria - recreating the distance of the perilous journey I was spared as a result of the rights and security afforded by my British citizenship. The distance is approximately 2645 miles and I aim to complete this with the use of both a stationary exercise bike, as well as a regular bike. I will calculate the distance travelled in miles through this activity and aspire to have virtually travelled the distance to Aleppo by the 10th anniversary of the Syrian revolution; the 15th of March.

The money raised will be donated to the charity Choose Love, who provide humanitarian assistance to refugees. Additionally, I will assign a portion of the fundraising to two local charities as a token of gratitude to the community who helped my people in their time of need. Those charities being Morecambe Bay Foodbank and Lancaster homeless shelter.

To find out more and to support my fundraiser, please visit here.

My heartfelt gratitude to the city of Lancaster.

Blog written by: Aladdin Alijan, final year LLB Law student

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