"The bars of my prison will rust, but never my will!"

Flyers, billboards, Radio commercials had been promoting for a marathon in support of the Syrian detainees in the Golan.


The day has come, I with lots of people joined it knowing that the only effect it will have is the partial self-satisfaction that we have contributed in more than the famous Arabs “bla bla bla”!

Lots of people did show up, not as many as usually gather in similar events such as the annual Terry Fox Run.

This run was sponsored by a Syrian mobile company (on of two in Syria), Areeba.

Who took care of promoting and advertising, distributions of water and Syrian flags, not to forget flags with the company's logo.



The registration fee was 50 pounds, that included a sticker number, a cap, and a T-Shirt that has huge logo of the mobile company on the back side, the logo of the company again on the front side, and a tiny thing that turned out to be, after a close and thorough examination using my home made telescope, a logo that says “Syria Beats”.

Meanwhile, 3 tough, promising, and enchanting young men were preparing to win the race: Amr, Sinan and my humble self ;)

The run began at around 8:30; people ran and all of a sudden, the ground was full of Syrian flags that were being stepped on by all the runners. Ignorant people gave no damn shit about the national flag of our country. This flag should be considered a sacred symbol for people of all religions, sects, political, and social parties. Yet, it was thrown on the ground and stepped on during a national event to say that we never forget our detainees in Golan! Maybe, before doing such a thing, we ought to teach ourselves that we MUST not forget our flag on the ground.

Instead of running and winning the race, as we had in mind! We ran in the back and collected the abandoned Syrian flags off the ground.

While we decided to call it off, people were going ahead to reach the end of the race at Al-Marjeh Square.

The initial outcome of the race was starting to be seen.

On the sides of the Marathon path, we could see some audience who stood there, cheered, and smoked some cigarettes!

Some others were ready to party after this marathon and were appropriately dressed for this aim, but not for the race however!

On our way back, we saw what looked like a gift or a reward of some kind, being delivered to some winner, who never heard of such a marathon, and probably, never heard of such a long gone Golan!

Long live Syria!