زينة ارحيم | منحازة للإنسانية منحازة للإنسانية

It’s 6 am in the morning; freezing air blows through a window covered with blue plastic bags, to the small crowded room. It fails to change the heavy smell of farting, breathe mixed with the smoke erupting from the burning junk put in a small tank for warmth. It was a quiet night; only two mortars and a missile hit ...

For the past month I haven’t needed to set a morning alarm – the regime jets do that job for me. Every single day we have been woken at 7am by a missile or by a barrel bomb. I can’t tell if there are mortars, because I am so used to the sound of their explosions that they no longer ...

I wake up in the morning, drink my cafe wishing that death will miss me again, then I head to my work through destroyed buildings abandoned from their families. It’s usual day for me, and instead of getting shot by masked men, I get barrel bombs from the sky, mortars and missiles from the other side of my city, the death here ...

By Hiba Dlewati  Journalism, like many other things, is no longer welcome in Syria. However that has not been a deterrent for Zaina Erhaim, a Syrian journalist for eight years, who is currently in Aleppo. A graduate of media studies and translation from Damascus University, 29-year-old Erhaim did her masters in international journalism at City University London. Covering a variety ...