There were a lot of roadblocks getting out of Baba Amr. As they came to the roundabout that connected Al-Korniche Street to the highway they had to pull up behind a queue of cars and buses.

Everyone on the minibus stopped talking as they rolled slowly towards the checkpoint. It was built from sandbags and surrounded by soldiers wearing camouflage uniforms and carrying AK-47s. The air vents on the minibus didn’t work and with everyone squeezed inside it got hotter and hotter. Zafir started to sweat. What if the soldiers discovered his papers were false?

‘Salaam aleiykum, peace be upon you,’ Abu Faisal greeted the soldier politely when they reached the check point. ‘Warahmatu Allahi wa barakatuhu, Allah’s mercy and blessings. It is just my family onboard,’ he said as he handed over the papers.

The soldier opened the door, looked inside and counted them, checking the papers in his hand. ‘There aren’t enough papers here. There is one person too many,’ he said. ‘Everyone outside. Now.’ He waved his gun at them.

‘Off! Off!’ Mr Abu Faisal turned and yelled at them all. The little girl in front of Zafir began to cry.

‘It’ll be okay,’ whispered Zafir. She stared at him like she didn’t believe him, but she stopped crying and held out her arms for him to take her. Holding her helped Zafir stop trembling.

As they lined up a soldier checked the papers and counted them again.

‘Look at me,’ said the soldier. He stood in front of Zafir who still held the little girl in his arms. She was heavier than she looked.

‘Zafir Al Hamra – thirteen years old. Yes?’ the soldier barked.

‘Er … yes,’ said Zafir. The soldier put a tick by his name on the paper and moved on. It was only when the soldier arrived at Abu Faisal’s wife that he pointed to the baby. ‘There is no paper for this child.’

‘Sorry, sayidi, sir, for my stupidity,’ said Abu Faisal. ‘It is a girl and she was born not so long ago and with all the troubles—’

The soldier hit Abu Faisal with the butt of his gun. Abu Faisal stumbled.

‘You have wasted my time, Ibn al Homar,’ shouted the soldier. ‘Go!’

They all scrambled back into the minibus. As they headed out onto the highway, Zafir sent Uncle Ghazi a text to say all was well and then, while he knew he still able to get a signal, he sent Eleni a message telling her he was leaving Homs to stay on a farm somewhere in Wadi Khaled. She texted back immediately with a whole row of smiley faces.

The minibus filled with the sound of talking and laughter. Everyone was relieved they had got through the checkpoint and were on their way – everyone except Um Omar. She had bent her head and was crying.

‘Ah,’ she moaned softly to herself. ‘Never in my life did I think I would become a refugee.’

There was another checkpoint at the junction of the highway and the ring-road but because Abu Faisal said they were leaving town the soldier let them pass after briefly flicking through the papers.

Back on the highway, they travelled towards the coast. Zafir saw the sun touch the horizon in the west.

Abu Faisal pulled over.

What now? Zafir looked outside. Why were they stopping?

‘Time to pray,’ said Abu Faisal.

Zafir got out of the bus carrying his sajda. He could hear the muezzin’s call to prayer echoing through the valley. He looked back down the road towards Homs and prayed to God, the same God and Allah both Tetah and Giddo had prayed to, that Uncle Ghazi would stay safe and that soon the war would be over and the whole family would be together again.

‘Come this way,’ said Abu Faisal, beckoning to Zafir. ‘The men will pray at this end of the bus and the women must go to the back.’

Zafir made wudu, cleansing himself by sprinkling water from a bottle Mr Al Hamra had given him over his hands and feet and washing his face, before he lay his sajda on the side of the road facing Mecca. With the other men, Zafir made salat in the way Giddo had taught him so long ago. Firstly he stood and recited the first chapter of the Qu’ran. He was surprised how the words came to him without thinking although the last time he’d been in the masjid was with Giddo in Dubai. After this he bowed, praising God, before kneeling with his forehead on the ground where he submitted himself to the will of God. Finally, as he sat on his knees, he testified that there were none worthy of worship but Him and he asked God to send peace and blessings to all.

‘Peace be upon you and the mercy of Allah,’ Zafir said to Mr Al Hamra who was on his right. He repeated the greeting to Faisal on his left and the greetings of peace were returned to him. For a few seconds after the prayer ended there was silence.

As Zafir stood up, he looked at the highway ahead where the last rays of the sun made shafts of light pointing upwards into the darkening sky.

Would the future bring the peace they had all just prayed for?