Nano, is what my family nicknamed me because I was the youngest grandchild for a while (and the shortest). This is a story about how I lived through an abusive father, sexual assault, war, divorce, suicide attempt and becoming a refugee in South Africa. It took a lot of courage to share my story with you and my intention is to firstly raise awareness on what is happening in the Arab queer community and secondly to perhaps help QPOC overcome the struggles that we face throughout our lives.

Chapter 6: meet Omar

The more you sweat in peace, the less you bleed in war
Norman Schwarzkopf

Life after rape is a war that you constantly battle. Life after rape means that the damage that has been done to you is not something that you can heal but you can manage. I can’t tell you or wrap up for you what life is after that – but as you get to know who I am, you’ll understand how coping with that changes your life.
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4 years after what happened to me I graduated high school, my older sister and myself moved to Damascus to study at university. I started studying psychology (but never completed). My dad refused to fund my college because he thought psychology is a profession for women only (seeing that men aren’t allowed to have feelings). So, I had to start working and my first job was a kindergarten school teacher (still my favourite job of all time).
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The war started on the 15th of March,2011 when student teenagers in Syria wrote on school walls “Freedom” which meant freedom of Al Asad and his government. I am not going to dive into politics but you’ll get my view on the war as I continue. We had a beautiful life in Damascus, I can’t describe to you how much love I have for the City of Jasmine. Damascus lives through my veins and dies in my distant memories every day.
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My sister, two cousins, and myself lived in one house in Damascus. The early days of the war were very scary, the sounds and events escalated slowly but surely. In the beginning we used to hear a lot of gunshots, helicopters, and it escalated into heavy machine guns, explosives from Air Force, tanks and etc… I remember the first time we heard a helicopter hovering and then targeting a house in our neighbourhood – my sister, cousins and myself were terrified. I remember we were all uncontrollably crying thinking that we were going to die. We used to hide in the bathtub (for no smart or meaningful reason). We also used to sleep in one single bed because we’d be too scared to sleep alone in case we die, we wanted to die together.
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Walking through the beautiful streets of Damascus and hearing the sound of death is devastating. Seeing the soldiers roaming around the city day and night was so heavy on my heart. Safety was no longer a feeling we knew, we all felt extreme fear and anxiety. When you walk through the streets of Damascus everything is blue – people’s faces were colourless. As if the sky was dark, the buildings were dull, the streets were in pain. With all of that, Damascus is the most beautiful paradise you can imagine. Damascus is the love that forever consumes my heart, it just never dies.
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As the war got more heated, I started participating a lot in protests for human rights. I, as most people, became very politically involved and opinionated. As a gay man, I wanted freedom. Freedom to be who I am, freedom for a religious-free country that accepts everyone and anyone, freedom to live without fear. Against my family’s wishes, I insisted on being part of a movement I truly believed in. Time passed and the situation only got worse, people were getting arrested, shot, buildings were demolished by bombings.

This is what my Grandpa’s family’s building looked like. (Please note that we lived in a very privileged area because we are lighter skinned Arabs – so this building is in a fantastic shape compared to buildings in other areas)

Here is how the beginning of the end for me started in Damascus. I was home alone for a while because my family had to flee, and I had to stay and make sure the house doesn’t get robbed. Sleeping alone terrified me, sleeping to the sound of guns and pistols was horrid. I slept with anger every night and woke up with sorrow every morning.
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On a Friday morning, I woke up to the sound of a very close helicopter and huge tanks coming into our neighbourhood, I step out to the balcony to see people running out of their homes leaving all their belongings behind to escape the army. I was completely frozen. I could not move my legs, I could not even blink. The fear that I felt baffled me. A soldier saw me standing on the balcony (we lived on the first floor) so he pointed his rifle at me and said screaming “Get back inside!”. I rushed back inside, and a minute later I hear the door knocking. It was the same soldier, he kicked the door in as I opened and wanted to search the house (There is no need for a search warrant for the Syrian army to search any house or premises). He walks in and he is looking for evidence if I have been rebelling against the government . He asks for my phone and laptop and after he searched my phone (to find nothing) he opens my laptop and asks for the password. I opened the laptop in front of him to find that I forgot to close my explorer’s window which was showing gay porn.
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He didn’t say anything, he closed the laptop and grabbed it. Some of the other soldiers were inspecting the building and they came into our house, they asked him if everything is okay – he says “There is nothing here”. He takes the laptop and leaves with the other soldiers. Two days later he comes back to our house at night returning the laptop – in his uniform – and comes into the house. He introduced himself and said “My name is Omar Daroubi”. I didn’t say anything. He sits down and says “I need to ask you some questions.” I sat down too and said “Sure”. Omar proceeds “Have you always watched gay porn?”. I said “No”. He answers “I’m Shiaa and you’re Sunni, we’re both not allowed to ever watch it but….”.
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He proceeds – “But I watch gay porn too”. He got up and started preparing to leave as he said “Don’t go to protests again” and leaves. I stay there not knowing what just happened, and quickly erased all my browser history. I see Omar again roaming the area as it was under government’s control. We never greeted. A week later – there was a protest in the area to remove the soldiers and barriers, I participated shortly and then the soldiers broke the protest – Omar was one of the soldiers there. I ran away from them but he was able to catch me as he knew where I was living, he grabbed me by both of his hands and takes me into my building. We get into the building, he holds my hands gently, stops for a second, apologises for grabbing me. Looked me into my eyes as he breathes heavily and he kisses me gently on my lips. He said “I told you to stay home”. I kissed him back. That was my first kiss. The one I promised Omar not to tell anyone about.
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Omar and I started spending time together, when he was off duty, we would go for a walk or to a coffee shop. We tried very hard not to discuss politics but we did get into discussions that later on became arguments as we were more intimate and comfortable around each other. Omar was 27 years old at that time, he had beautiful green eyes, golden brown skin, thick curly dark hair and of course the beautiful Arab beard. Omar and I discovered sex together – as he was the first guy I ever had intimacy with after what happened to me 5 years ago and I was his first. We made love under rainfalls of bullets, sounds of explosions, the vibration of exploding bombs shaking the bed. We were terrified but when I looked into his eyes – I wasn’t scared of death anymore. Omar was as gentle and kind. Omar was my first sign of hope that I can love again after what happened to me.
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Omar and I had different roles in life and because of our religion that separated us. But, when we were together, we were Omar and Adnan only. Omar and I started caring for each other more and more as time passed, he’d warn me when the army would be in the area to make sure I don’t get arrested and I’d warn him to stay away from a certain area because there would be huge protests. We were basically double agents for each other.
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The separation of the two muslim groups (Sunni & Shiaa) started after the death of the Prophet Muhammad. The majority believed that his rightful successor is Abu Bakr, but Shias group believed that the successor should be Ali ibn Abi Talib. The separation between Sunnis and Shias is one of the main reasons behind the civil war in Syria.
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Months passed and we never really believed in “gay relationships” because our society would never accept it but we were happy when we just spent time together without a label. The arguments that I told you about before? They grew more and they manifested in our kinship. Arguments turned into fights and we started growing apart. We had to go back to Saudi Arabia for safety reasons. I didn’t have much of an option seeing that as much as I loved my country – the situation has become a threat to my life. I told the news to Omar and ended things with him. With a heavy heart I packed away my life from Damascus, left a month later to Saudi Arabia.
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The reason why I said Omar’s name without the fear of outing him or putting him in danger? Omar passed away on the 16th of February, 2015. He was shot during a battle in Homs. I miss you habibi. I am sorry we lived in that world. I am sorry I couldn’t save you. I’m forever proud to have met you. You are missed. If there is an after life, seeing you there is the first thing I’d want to do. Your rebel, Nano.
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to be continued…