I was studying in Damascus when the war broke out in 2013.
In Syria, military service is compulsory for men between the age of 18 and 30 but I had bought myself some time as I went to university. I wouldn’t have to enrol in the military until next year. However, I knew it wasn’t the life I wanted. I was never going to go there. In fact, three of my friends ended up being killed while serving in the military.
The only way to get away from the war was to leave my country. Back then, I didn’t know that cycling would end up saving my life.
Being part of the national cycling team, I had often travelled abroad to take part in races, so, when I decided to flee the country, it was relatively easy for me to get across the border as the officials could see in my passport that I had travelled a lot as a national athlete.
When I crossed the border, I looked back into Syria. That was a really hard moment for me as I knew that I would most likely never come back again. What followed hereafter was a five-month journey to Switzerland.
The first part of the journey was a 90 km taxi drive from Damascus to Beirut where I stayed for two days before leaving for Turkey. From there, I took a boat to Athens. I didn’t have a visa so I was forced to pay 2500 Euros for that boat trip!
It was a very dangerous trip.
My mother did not want me to do it. Around that time, there were so many stories of people drowning off the shore because they didn’t know how to swim. However, I used to be a swimming pool teacher in the summer back home so I told my mother I would have no problems. I was still very nervous though.
Luckily, the boat trip went well and I arrived in Athens. I was surprised to find a great cycling atmosphere there so I decided to stay for two months with some friends from the national team back home.
Ultimately, I bought myself a one-way ticket to Geneva, Switzerland, to seek refugee status. At the airport, I met a group of French cyclists I had encountered a few days earlier in Athens. They asked me where I was going and I told them I was going the UCI in Switzerland to see their training centre.
I didn’t want to tell them the truth.
I was so nervous about this trip. I knew that if the police caught me, it would be a really shitty situation and I would be so embarrassed in front of these guys who were being so kind to me.
Just to get through the airport was really nerve-wracking. I had paid a guy to get me the right travel documentation but you never know if it will actually be accepted. I can’t explain how hard it is to get through all this. Emotions are constantly running high and low. To my surprise, nobody stopped me and it all went smoothly.
In Geneva, I had a friend who I knew from the national junior team in Damascus. Before I started my long journey, I had told him that if he said I was welcome, then one day I would call him and say that I was in Geneva and needed help. He said “of course” and I told him to keep his phone on him and be ready. That was it. I didn’t talk with him again after that and I didn’t tell anybody else about my plans. It was all too dangerous.
When I arrived in Geneva, I immediately called my friend from the airport. He didn’t pick up. I tried again, nothing. Three missed calls. I started panicking and thinking of a plan B.
I thought that maybe I could actually go the UCI centre so I asked a taxi driver how much it would cost to go there. 400 Swiss Francs he answered. Welcome to Switzerland… Forget it!
I waited 15 minutes more and then I called my friend again. Finally, somebody answered. It was his mother. She asked who I was and I had to explain to her why I was calling. She was getting nervous and she handed the phone to my friend who explained to me which train I had to board to get to his place.
In Switzerland, the trains have two classes. I didn’t know that. I boarded the first train and found a seat. Then I started looking around and wondering why the train was so empty. What’s happening in this country, I thought. Is everyone asleep?
Then the controller came around to check my ticket and he told me I was in the VIP area, with a ticket for second class. I then left to find the right carriage and when I got to second class, I realized where all the people were. It was packed!
At the end I arrived to my friend’s place and I stayed there for a while. However, it wasn’t until three months later that I could start training again after a friend from Greece sent me a bike. It was in the middle of winter and I didn’t have any winter clothing but I was so motived and I just wanted to ride my bike.
Even though it was only 2°c outside I still went for a two-hour ride around the lake in my summer t-shirt and shorts. I still remember the pain in my hands and feet from the cold but I didn’t care because I could finally start chasing my dream again.
At first, it was really hard adapting to my new life in Switzerland. I didn’t speak the language and I had to try to achieve a cycling career all by myself. But I went to school to learn the language and I pushed through all the pain. Now it feels like home. I have a Swiss girlfriend and her family is like my second family.
The rest of my family, my two brothers, my sister and my mother are still between Aleppo, Damascus and Turkey. I haven’t seen them in six years and there is no chance for me to go back and visit them. It’s hard. I hope some day in the future we will be able to see each other again.
Last December, I got a scholarship to the Olympic refugee team and this season, I’ve stopped working part-time in order to focus 100 % on achieving my big dream. I want to get a good result at the Olympic Games next year.
Right now, we are all in a challenging situation with the coronavirus but I still train hard. I use all the difficult experiences from my life as fuel to keep pushing hard in training every day.
If you see my name at the Olympics next year, you’ll will now know who that guy is and how he got there.
Last modified: May 11, 2020
