‘Syria is the victim of a conspiracy by external forces. Foreign terrorists are infiltrating our country in an attempt to destabilise it,’ said the president, looking out through the screen of the television into the sitting room where Mum and Pops and Zafir sat watching the news two weeks later.

‘How can he say that?’ asked Mum. ‘How can he blame foreigners for what’s happening in his own country?’

The president’s speech was interrupted by clapping and cheering from the members of parliament. The president waved his hands to stop the applause and smiled at them, and at all Syrians watching him from their sitting rooms and restaurants and shops, and even at everyone in the world who was watching the televised speech.

Mum’s phone rang. She picked it up, looked at the caller and gave a loud cry as she pressed the talk button.

‘Alhamdulillah, praise God! Ghazi! How are you? It’s so good to hear your voice.’

Zafir and Pops looked at each other and grinned. This was the best news of all. Pops switched off the television and the president’s face disappeared into the dark, blank screen.

‘Where is he?’ Pops asked. ‘Put the phone on loudspeaker, Nadia, so we can all hear.’

‘I’m fine.’ Uncle Ghazi’s disembodied voice crackled through the speaker on the phone. ‘I was released today and for now I am staying with Gulnaz’s family because my landlord doesn’t want to be associated with a traitor like me.’

‘You must leave Syria,’ said Mum firmly. ‘Go to America or Sweden, or Australia. Sophia, my friend, the priest’s wife, says it’s a good country with so much freedom.’

‘I’d love to visit those countries one day,’ said Uncle Ghazi. ‘But I can’t leave now. Change is so close. Gulnaz has told me the good news – that thousands of people all around the country are demonstrating against the regime.’

‘Yes,’ said Pops. ‘But there is bad news too. Many have died in this fight. Is it really worth it?’

Zafir groaned. Pops hadn’t been arguing with Mum so why was he saying this now to Uncle Ghazi?

‘There are other issues that had been hidden that are now rising,’ Pops went on. ‘For instance, my mother cannot go to church without being worried that she’ll be spat on or worse. There is such hatred against minority groups like Christians, because they are against the protests and support the regime.’

‘We’ve asked your mother and Rosa to come and stay with us here in Al Waer. She knows it’s safer but she refuses to leave.’ Mum glared at Pops as if that was his fault. ‘But Ghazi, it is getting dangerous close to where she lives. Yesterday when we visited her, we couldn’t go through New Clock Square as the demonstrators coming from the mosques were gathered there. We could hear the shouting from Tetah’s house. And then there was shooting as well, and a child, among others, was killed. There have been many martyrs.’

‘I agree it’s not all good news,’ said Uncle Ghazi. ‘But I … we, all who’ve been supporting this cause have been through too much to back down now. And the way the government is reacting, ordering the security forces to shoot at crowds, preventing ambulances from reaching victims, arresting and now killing children, just proves that what we are fighting for is worth it. This is a brutal regime.’

‘Yes,’ said Mum. ‘But people have had enough. The Assad family must leave. They should go to Russia and let us get on with our lives.’

‘Do you really think even if this happens that change can occur?’ asked Pops. He sounded tired and sad. ‘There is all this talk of freedom and democracy. They are beautiful ideas, but will it ever happen here in Syria? How can we forget that it is in our country where Cain killed Abel? The stain of violence goes so deep I wonder if blood is all we understand.’

There was an awkward silence. Zafir had to do something to make sure they didn’t have one of their arguments again. He said the first thing that came into his head. ‘I’ve got some good news. My friend, Rami, won his swimming race at the Interschool Games day in Lebanon. He said I should think about training to get in the athletics team next year.’

‘Great idea,’ said Uncle Ghazi. Pops nodded and Mum smiled at Zafir and patted his arm.

‘Next year is a good time to look forward to,’ she said.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Mum after the phone call, ‘that we must go and stay with Tetah until things are less dangerous. Family is important and we should care for each other.’

‘It would be safer for her to stay with us,’ said Pops.

Mum nodded. ‘Yes, I agree, but you know she won’t because there’s no church close by and it’s too far to go to her church from here.’

‘And being Easter week she will be going every day,’ said Pops. ‘But what about Zafir? It won’t be any fun for him. It’s term break and you know Tetah will probably make him go to church with her.’

‘Somehow I don’t think he’ll mind too much.’ Mum looked over at Zafir and winked. ‘It’ll give him a chance to see his girlfriend.’

Now Zafir knew how Uncle Ghazi felt when Mum went on about Gulnaz.

‘She’s only a friend,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I’ll be studying for the exams in June.’

‘Would you prefer to stay here then?’ asked Mum.

‘Well … no … I can take my books.’ It’d be totally boring staying in the apartment for the whole holidays and it would be okay to go skateboarding with Eleni.

‘I’ll call Mama then,’ said Pops. ‘She’ll be delighted but I hope she doesn’t say anything to you about sleeping in or drinking too much coffee or about how I should never have become a Muslim.’

‘I promise I won’t get annoyed, even if she brings up any of those subjects. I even promise I won’t say a word when she goes on about how wonderful the president and his family is.’

‘We’ll see,’ said Pops but he grabbed Mum’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Shukran, habibi, thank you, sweetheart.’