Saleh* sits in his wheelchair in the corner of the church courtyard, smiling. He’s been drawing and colouring to keep himself occupied. ‘I found that drawing and colouring, even as simply as this, is a way for me to find some rest within myself,’ he says. Then, he laughs and adds, ‘They call me Chicasso.’
Saleh is wrapped tightly in rough blankets to keep out the biting cold of Syrian winter, but he’s making jokes and keeping the people around him entertained.
He’s even been helping our local partner to distribute food. ‘We’ve been through a lot throughout the years,’ Saleh says, ‘and many people have been traumatised, so the least that I can do is help the people around me. Even my daughters have been doing things to entertain the kids in the surrounding shelters and schools.’
Shelter in the church
Saleh is one of the many people who have taken shelter in church buildings in Aleppo after major earthquakes levelled buildings and caused death and destruction across Turkey and Syria in February.
‘On the night of the earthquake, we were all asleep,’ Saleh tells us. ‘It was myself and my two daughters [aged 27 and 28]. Suddenly, I started hearing what seemed like somebody was digging beneath us – which was strange enough – but then our things started to move in the house. At first, I called out to my daughters to not be afraid. But, when the earthquake took a long time to end, I told them to leave me and go. I’m unable to get out easily and my daughters can’t carry me! They refused and wouldn’t leave me.’
Saleh describes a scene of total chaos. He says they heard neighbours screaming and banging on doors. ‘Thankfully,’ Saleh says, ‘there was a young man who was able to carry me and take me down to the local school. Even then, the cement on the street was moving like the sea.’
