Laylat alqadr in Syria


Tonight could be Laylatul Qadr, a night better than a thousand months. There is no better time to donate your Zakat and Sadaqah and reap the rewards and blessings of your good deeds. Remember, Laylatul Qadr is a generous night, and any good deed is rewarded as if you had continuously done it for over 83 years.

Allah (swt) says in the Quran:

“The Night of Decree is better than a thousand months. The angels and the Spirits descend therein by permission of their Lord for every matter. Peace it is until the emergence of dawn” (Surah Al-Qadr, verses 3-5)

Much like every night in Ramadan, mosques in Syria will remain open today. With green lights glimmering on the minarets, worshipers fill the streets walking to their local mosques to make the most of these blessed nights. On these final days of fasting, the streets get busier, and each call to prayer is sung with more emotion. Ironically, worshiping is a personal ritual, but with overflowing mosques and the constant sounds of prayer, there is never a feeling of loneliness during these final days of Ramadan. Not only in Syria, but across the world, during these last ten days communal praying and charitable giving really transcend class or religion. And that’s the beauty of these blessed nights.

Anticipating and preparing for Laylatul Qadr in Syria was truly a magical time, but for the last ten years, for most families in Syria, these nights could not be further from magical.

As the crisis in Syria rages on, war fatigue has manifested inside us; so during these final nights, when we spare a prayer for those less fortunate, let’s just remember how dire the situation still is.

  • 7 million internally displaced, the largest number worldwide
  • 2.7 million people remain displaced in northwest Syria, having fled fighting multiple times.
  • 3 million people - 46% of the population – are facing food shortages.

When we talk with facts, it’s easier to see only numbers. But as you dedicate a prayer for Syria tonight, try to see the faces; faces of young boys and girls, the elderly, exhausted mothers struggling to breastfeed as they themselves are malnourished. Picture the families who have spent this Ramadan without a place to call home and no clean water or hot food. In the inadequate camps, there are no decent cooking facilities, and sleeping without mattresses can be distressing for children and the elderly.

Syrians are still in need of humanitarian assistance right now; each facing a daily fight for survival due to poverty, violence, and trauma. Of all the nights that may pass us this year, don’t let tonight leave us without a prayer for every Syrian who is suffering this Ramadan.

Fasting long days can take its toll on the body, especially as the month comes to an end and we start dreaming of Eid morning where we can start the day with a hot sip of coffee. But however tiring they may be, these final days of Ramadan will pass us like a blink of an eye.

So let’s come together now and give some of the most vulnerable people of Syria an ending to Ramadan they deserve.

We have a 100% Zakat Donation Policy meaning that every penny of your donations will go to the most desperate people living inside Syria.

Title: Mothers day in Syria.  A Glimpse into the Lives of Syrian mothers on mother's day.

By Tasneem Dulayymi, Media Executive at Syria Relief

The darkness that descended upon me after becoming a first-time mum had a purpose; it broke me open further and instilled in me a deeper sense of empathy and compassion for the world around me.

During those trying days, memories of mothers I had encountered in Syria flooded my mind. Mothers who had suffered the unbearable loss of their children, mothers grappling to provide for their families amidst the turmoil of war, and mothers who could not breastfeed their children  due to the unrelenting stresses of conflict.

One mother, in particular, stood out vividly in my memory—Samar. I can still picture her vibrant, patterned yellow hijab, a stark contrast to the darkness that seemed to engulf her eyes. Russian war planes  showed no mercy to Samar's 18-month-old son or her unborn baby of three months. Each night, Samar's image, her hijab, and her somber eyes danced through my dreams, juxtaposed against the swirling anxieties of new motherhood.

In the quiet hours of a 2 a.m  with my own two-month-old nestled against my shoulder, I reached for my phone and sent a message to Samar, hoping against hope that she hadn't changed her number. I prayed that our shared experience of motherhood could bridge the gap between our vastly different lives.

As the days blurred together in a haze of sleep deprivation and feeding struggles, each notification bearing Samar's name brought  relief to my weary shoulders. Despite the geographical and cultural chasm that separated us, the bond of motherhood became our shared sanctuary.

Samar had lost everything in a matter of seconds—her children, her home, her sense of security. As our friendship deepened, she confided in me, expressing her desperate need for psychological support, for someone to bear witness to her pain.

"I have lived through a nightmare," she confided. "I withdrew from the world, unwilling to face another day. But now, I am ready to speak, to begin the journey of healing."

Samar's plea for help echoed the silent cries of countless mothers in Syria, grappling with the unseen scars of trauma amidst the chaos of conflict. In a country where a quarter of UK mothers experience postnatal depression, the toll on Syrian mothers giving birth amidst war can only be imagined. Syria Relief's mental health report paints a grim picture, revealing that three in four refugees in Syria and Lebanon exhibit symptoms of PTSD, with females disproportionately affected.

But Samar's pain ran deeper than the physical scars on her leg inflicted by shrapnel—an outward reminder of her harrowing ordeal.

 "People here only see the scars on my leg," she said. "But the wounds that truly ache lie hidden in my mind, unseen and unacknowledged."


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