About the “100 Refugee Stories” Project,

The “100 Refugee Stories” project was born out of my deep desire to share the untold stories of refugees—stories filled with hope, struggle, and resilience. As someone who has lived through the challenges of displacement, I understand how critical it is to shed light on the experiences that so many refugees endure, often far from the public eye.

Through this project, I aim to give a voice to individuals who have faced unimaginable hardship but have persevered with courage and determination. My goal is to reach readers who care about the refugee experience, to show the humanity behind the numbers, and to spark compassion and understanding

These stories, collected from refugees across different walks of life, are more than just tales of survival—they are testaments to strength, love, and the relentless pursuit of a better life for themselves and their families. I hope that by sharing these stories, we can foster a deeper connection between readers and the global refugee community, highlighting the personal journeys that make up this collective experience.

Writing is my passion, and I believe in the power of words to inspire change. By documenting these stories, I aim not only to raise awareness but also to honor the incredible resilience of refugees worldwide 

Ammar dale bsal 

“Note: Consent and signatures are obtained from the individuals whose stories will be published here.”

100 Asylum Stories Project Story Number (3) yazan

hi my friends  today im gonna write about my friend  yazan I met Yazan in  on one of the Greek islands when I was volunteering as a translator for the camp management. Yazan had just arrived from Turkey by sea, his body covered in blood, and his eyes filled with panic and shock. At first, I thought he was injured, but when I spoke to him, I learned that the blood belonged to one of his friends who was on the same boat. They were attacked by mercenaries guarding the Greek sea, and the attack resulted in deaths and injuries, some with broken bones, others with deep wounds, and one lost his life. Yazan had witnessed everything. He saw the blood scatter, watched his friend’s body stop breathing, saw the boat capsize, and witnessed the sea swallow their dreams. He told me that at that moment, he felt they would become food for the fish if it weren’t for someone rescuing them at the last second. Yazan was only seventeen years old, physically and mentally exhausted, and his family was extremely worried about him. He left Syria in 2013 with his family when the war broke out, and he was only six years old at the time. He lived in Turkey for ten years but never felt that he or his family had any rights there. He decided to risk his life to reach a safe country, a country where he could reunite with his family. It was not an easy decision, but he felt he had no other choice. He told me that he had been working since he was twelve years old, taking on responsibility to support his family, and to this day, he still sacrifices himself for them. He tried many times to cross the border by land, but the police would catch them, abuse them, beat them, and send them back. Those attempts were true nightmares, and with every failure, he would collapse, but every time, he would think of his family and try again. I lived with him in the same camp in Greece for three months. We shared the same suffering; the camp felt like a prison, and we waited for relief. He was the one who needed someone to stand by him the most. After a while, we were transferred from the island and arrived in the Netherlands, but we were not given the opportunity to live together. The COA  RULES DIDNPT ALLOW IT  and this is very painful. Yazan now lives in one refugee camp, and I am in another. Although we are in the same country, we cannot be side by side. We meet every few months and talk about everything: the past, the dream, the loneliness, the pain. After fifteen months of his arrival in the Netherlands, Yazan still does not have residency and has not been able to reunite with his family. He joined school, learned Dutch, and now works in a restaurant to support himself and help his family. He has no friends other than me, and I try to be the friend he needs. When I sit with him, I feel like I’m with my brother. His mother once said to me, “I wish I could always see my son’s smile. He only smiles when he’s with you.” These words shook me to the core and made me feel a great sense of responsibility toward him. Yazan does not feel safe where he lives now, and he wishes he could be in the same camp with me, and I feel the same. When you’re with your friend, you feel like you’re with your family, and everything becomes easier. Yazan still carries the image of the blood and the body he saw floating on the surface of the sea. This image never leaves him and adds to his pain every day. However, he is a strong young man who does not give up. He is fluent in Arabic, Turkish, English, and Dutch, and he has a beautiful spirit and a bright future. His story is very similar to mine, and that’s why I felt it was time to write it, especially now that he’s turned 18. We are now sitting together after a long time of separation, and I hope he will one day reunite with his family, and that this reunion will be soon. Yazan deserves life, love, and safety   

Despite everything Yazan has been through, and my own struggles as refugees in this strange world, our friendship has always been a source of strength for us. We don’t need many words to understand how much we mean to each other. We complete each other, and being together eases the bitterness of this exile. Although the road ahead is long, hope for the future still shines on the horizon. Yazan is one of those friends I consider a true brother, and I wish him all the best and success in his life ahead. Our friendship is the lifeblood for me, and I am grateful for every moment we’ve spent together

Ammar dale bsal

100 Asylum Stories Project Story Number (2) Ali .

Ali, a 47-year-old man from Idlib, Syria, is married with five children. Before 2012, Ali lived a life full of luxury and prosperity.

He recalls, “We owned farmland, farms, and properties that provided us with a comfortable life. I was a merchant between Saudi Arabia and Syria, living well with my family.” But everything changed when the war broke out in 2012.

In June 2012, Ali was forced to leave Idlib after witnessing his city turn into a battlefield. Ali narrates: “I saw the Syrian army invade the city with tanks, arresting young men and raping women. I witnessed them shooting at everyone without mercy. I saw the army kill an entire family because they refused to leave their home.”

Faced with such horrifying violence, Ali made the decision to leave, fearing for his life and the safety of his five children. After his brother and cousin were arrested and the village severely damaged, he decided it was time to go. “I saw so much blood that day,” Ali said, “it was terrifying and brutal.”

Saudi Arabia was his first destination, as he had previously worked there before the war. He explains how risky it was to obtain passports for his family, especially after a bombing nearly took his sister’s life. Although she survived the injury, she passed away a year later. After seeking refuge in Saudi Arabia, the government initially welcomed them, providing support and assistance.

However, in 2019, new challenges arose. Saudi laws prevented Ali’s children from pursuing their university education. It was a major disappointment for him, as he wanted his children to have the education he missed out on as a youth.

Ali says: “The new laws felt like a dark cloud over us, I could no longer work or provide healthcare for my family.” As restrictions increased, he began to think of migrating to Europe, hoping for a better future for his children.

In 2023, Ali embarked on a perilous journey to the Netherlands, attempting to cross borders illegally. “I was willing to sacrifice myself,” he says, “to give my children a better life and the education they deserve.”

Ali left Saudi Arabia for Turkey, where he began searching for a smuggler to help him reach Europe. After several failed attempts to cross the Turkish-Bulgarian border, he was arrested and sent back to Turkey multiple times. He faced humiliation, was beaten, and imprisoned for 20 days simply because he was Syrian.

“and as I mentioned before, I endured three days in the forests. Those days were a true nightmare, where I faced attacks from wild animals. I could hear their terrifying sounds in the darkness, making my heart race with fear. One night, after the group I was with split up, everyone left me behind, and I found myself alone in the forest, surrounded by darkness.

Every moment posed a new challenge, and my body was breaking down from exhaustion and hunger. One night, I suffered an injury to my leg while trying to escape a lurking danger, which intensified my feelings of weakness and despair. Yet, despite all this, I clung to the hope of seeing my family again. Their voices echoed in my mind, and the dream of reuniting with them became the light guiding me through the darkness of that terrifying forest.”

Despite all the hardships, Ali never gave up hope. On his fourth attempt, he finally succeeded in crossing the border into Bulgaria. He recounts: “I saw heartbreaking scenes—women, children, and the elderly all walking with us, but everyone shared the same hope for a better future.”

From Bulgaria, Ali continued his journey through Serbia, Hungary, and finally, he reached the Netherlands. He chose the Netherlands because of its reputation for reuniting refugee families. He says: “I heard that the Dutch people are kind and treat refugees without discrimination.”

Upon his arrival in the Netherlands, Ali felt peace for the first time. He says: “I felt proud that I had made it here alive. This journey was for my children, and I hope I can reunite with them soon.”

At the refugee reception center, a sentence written on the wall caught his attention: “Everyone has the right to practice their rituals without discrimination.” Ali says: “Those words gave me a sense of relief and safety.”

Today, Ali lives in a refugee camp in Middelburg, the same camp where I ( live. When I asked him how he feels, he said: “When I arrived at the camp, I was welcomed by the staff—Mohamed, Bilal, and Sana.,,Sana smiled at me, and that smile brought me a great sense of safety and happiness.”  They treated me like family. The camp administration as a whole has been wonderful, providing everything I needed and making me feel at home. I am very grateful to them.” 

Ali adds: “The management of this camp has helped ease so much of the pain I went through on my journey. They made me feel like I belong to a family, and for that, I thank them from the bottom of my heart.”

In the end, Ali expressed his hope to soon reunite with his family and give his children the education and life they deserve. He said: “I miss them terribly, and I dream of the day I can see them live without discrimination or harassment.”

As for integration, Ali says: “I feel like I belong here. Dutch culture is filled with peace and love, and the people are very kind. I’m volunteering and working with the Dutch, and I feel like I’m one of them. I respect them, and they respect me.”

As the writer, Ammar, I am incredibly proud of Ali. He is a strong, wonderful man and an amazing father. Ali is a true hero who sacrificed everything for his children. I hope with all my heart that he reunites with his family and that they live a beautiful life. Ali, you are a hero. You are strong

Ammar dale bsal

100 Asylum Stories Project Story Number (1) ammar.

FROM TE HEART OF WAR TO THE LAND OF HOPE

In 2011, the war began in Syria. At that time, I was in the third grade of elementary school, a young child who knew nothing of the world except his simple studies during the day and work in the evening to support his family. I grew up in a poor, simple, loving household despite everything. My childhood was tough, but I lived it like any hopeful child. I had friends—we played together, laughed, dreamed, and filled the simple streets with the sound of joy. Despite the hardships, life was still bearable until that moment the moment everything changed. I remember the first time I saw a bombing with my own eyes. We were playing near the house when we suddenly saw something shining in the sky. It fell in the neighborhood and exploded. The ground shook, screams echoed. One of my brothers was injured, and so were children who had just been playing with us. Fear crept into our hearts, into our homes, into every corner of the place. We couldn’t sleep that night. The shelling had started, and rockets were falling on our heads, destroying everything around us, even the peace in our hearts. Life as we knew it came to a halt. No food, no water, no electricity, no transportation. I clearly remember the nights when I went out with my mother just to buy bread. We would stand in line for five or six hours in the middle of the night for a loaf to feed my younger siblings. I remember how many times the sniper aimed at us and how often I saw people killed before my eyes, screamed at, crying beside me. I would lift my head to the sky and see planes dropping explosive barrels. I watched houses collapse, and friends die one by one. They were children they were my friends… we used to play together… and now they’re gone. In 2012, we left the city. We had no other choice. My mother carried my siblings, and we traveled to another city, searching for safety. But safety wasn’t there either. We had no home. We lived in an old and ruined house, in the place where my father was once born, but it wasn’t fit to live in. I worked in car repair as a child just to earn a bit of money to buy bread or potatoes to ease our hunger. I no longer studied. There were no schools, no education. The greatest concern was survival. Then the shelling began again. We heard the sounds of rockets, screams, and death in every corner. I’d walk out and see people carrying weapons, some going off to fight, some killing and stealing. Everything around me turned bloody. Electricity disappeared, water stopped, life came to a standstill. We went to bed hungry, my siblings and I, without food, without hope. Yet despite all this, we dreamed… we dreamed that the war would stop, that life would return. But it didn’t. In 2016, after five years of hell, things got even worse. Terrorist groups entered the city. They began recruiting children aged fourteen, fifteen, sixteen. They took them, trained them to fight, promising them they were defending their country. They took my dearest friend. He believed them and went with them. Not long after, we heard he was killed. They killed him with a lie. They told him, “You’re defending your homeland,” but he never returned. I cried so much for him. We used to laugh together, go out together, play then he disappeared. A part of my heart was lost forever. In that moment, I was more afraid than ever. The place became unbearable. We could no longer endure the hunger, fear, blood, lies, and betrayal. And in 2017, I decided to leave. I left my homeland, my city, and behind me, I left my childhood, my toys, my notebooks, my friends, and my memories. I left my mother crying, my little siblings hugging me, and I didn’t know if I would ever see them again. I left Syria, but I still carry it in my heart. I left the neighborhood where joy was buried. I left the streets that once echoed with laughter. I left the people I loved, and they scattered. And here I am today, still writing

In 2017, I was sixteen years old when I decided to leave Syria. My decision was not easy; I had to leave my family and friends and flee the war and the terrorist organizations that recruit children. I had two choices: to stay and die or to flee and risk my life in search of a safe homeland.

on foot from Syria to a to Turkey, crossing the Syrian Turkish border I set out on illegally. The journey was arduous and dangerous; we walked for four days through forests and mine filled terrain. I was in a group that included men, women, children, and the elderly. We went for two days without food, drinking water from streams in the forests, and sometimes eating unknown plants to survive. Fear and cold filled our hearts, especially with children crying and mothers screaming.

MISSING MY LOVED ONES

After great suffering, I finally arrived in Istanbul, I felt a mixture of joy and fear. I was alone in a strange country and started looking for work and found a job in a bicycle factory. Life was tough, I worked thirteen hours a day and lived in a shared room with four other other people. After a while, I started to miss my family, especially my mother, who I loved and was my friend.

I continued to work for six years, mastered the Turkish language, and worked hard. But I was forced to leave work, leave the country, and immigrate again. With the increasing racism and danger for Syrians in Turkey, I decided to leave. I boarded a rubber boat in September 2023 towards Greece, with thirty other people, including women and children. The scenes I experienced when I left Syria came back. The journey across the was fraught with danger; high waves, cold weather and an engine that broke down several times. We were praying and praying to God that we would be saved. After hours of suffering, we finally reached a Greek island and I took this photo.

HUNDRED DAYS OF STRUGGLING

We were transferred to a refugee camp where we lived in harsh and inhumane conditions. We spent more than a hundred days in the camp, struggling with spoiled food, salty water and poor sanitary conditions. Life there was hell, especially for children and women. I decided that my final destination would be the Netherlands. I was attracted to the Dutch law, which states that all people are treated equally, no matter what religion, belief or language you speak, i wasted my life and suffered for seven years in Turkey and no one respected me there.

Going to the Netherlands, it was the first time I had ever taken a plane in my life and it was a day full of optimism and self-pride. When I arrived heze, starting a new life. I now live in a refugee camp in the city of Middelburg, where the Dutch government has provided us with basic assistance. Life is difficult due to the situation in the camp; there's enough privacy for people. Two people have to live in an iron container that's two meters wide and three meters long. There's no window you can open for ventilation and there's noise coming from outside and other containers. I tried tried to overcome these difficulties by participating in volunteer activities in the camp and learning new skills such as sewing. Additionally, I help out as an interpreter because I speak English, Turkish and Arabic. Helping others with translation helped me overcome my difficult psychological state and it makes me feel proud.

LEARNING DUTCH FIRST

I am now working hard on myself and I want to achieve a better future. I plan to learn Dutch first and after that, I want to join as a volunteer in a refugee support organization. I'll delve into writing about refugee life; have unbelievable stories. If I have the opportunity, I'll publish a book about my life and the lives of refugees. I also want to complete my studies because I left school when the war broke out, at eleven years old. Most importantly, I want to do to do something to compensate the Dutch government for their support, for providing care to us as refugees and for allowing us to live a life full of security and peace. Here, in this new country, I see a glimmer of hope and I feel like I can build a new life.

ABOUT THE WRITER Nanve: Ammar Dale Bsal  Age: 23 Country of origin: Syria Current location: Middelburg In NL since: January 2024 sion: writer

2024