My name is Hanin Tlas, and at 16 years old, I can proudly say that I’ve come a long way from the challenges life threw at me. Two years ago, I found myself in Dar El Ehsan, an orphanage that became my new home. But my journey began before that, in Homs, Syria.

I was just a five-year-old girl when my family and I left our hometown, escaping the harsh realities of war. It was a tough departure. We left immediately after my father was killed. But right before that, he gifted me new shoes for my birthday. I wore those shoes on my journey to keep my father close.

On the day of our departure, the weather was frigid, and it was snowing. I was scared and kept holding onto my mother’s hand. Right before we crossed the border, the man leading us started screaming to run, not look back, and never stop. I started running as fast as my little feet could take me; the snow was making it more challenging. 

As I was focusing on not losing my mother’s hand, I suddenly felt my foot sinking. My shoe got stuck in the snow; I wiggled it fast, but the shoelaces loosened, and my shoe was left behind. I pulled my mother’s hand, screaming, “Wait, wait, my shoe got stuck!” She looked at me in a way I’d never seen before and said sternly, “There is no time.” As she dragged me for the rest of the way, I kept looking back, longing for a home, a father, and a shoe. 

We finally crossed the border to a safe area where we could catch our breath. I looked down at my feet and saw that part of me was left on the Syrian side, and now part of me was going on this new adventure across the border in Turkiye. 

I kept that shoe all those years wrapped and carefully tucked away in my closet. This shoe is a constant reminder of the sacrifices we made. And I am happy I left a print in the place I will always call home.

In our search for stability, we spent two years in Gaziantep, a year in Antakya, and another two in Reyhanli. The orphanage became our temporary refuge, yet my two older brothers couldn’t stay there. Instead, they found shelter with our uncle.

As time passed, my brothers embarked on a perilous journey, taking a dinghy to Germany. Though my mother wasn’t thrilled about their decision, their determination to forge a better future prevailed.

Eventually, life led us to Dar El Ehsan, where we were given an apartment, a stipend, and access to education. I found myself in the 10th grade, aspiring to teach English in the future, thanks to my passion for English literature.

My introduction to Karam House came through a friend, a fellow student, who opened the doors to a world of possibilities in 2022. Genius Camp became a space where I not only discovered Karam House but also found the freedom to express my thoughts openly.

I enrolled in the English Literature program with the goal of becoming an English teacher. I didn’t expect the transformative impact Karam House would have on my personality. With the guidance of my mentor, Ola, I shed my shyness and introversion, becoming more sociable and confident.

My favorite studio, “Threshold Spaces,” with Mohamad Hidan and Nour, became a hub where I learned to socialize, share my opinions confidently, and embrace my newfound community. Karam House is more than a place; it’s a catalyst for confidence, skill-building, and social growth.

Not only did I learn Turkish, but I am now attending Imam Khatib School. Reflecting on my journey, I can’t help but express my gratitude: “Thank you, Karam, for everything. You’ve been in my life for a short time, but your impact has been huge.”

Before Karam House, I had no friends, but now, the number is limitless. I discovered a passion for drawing and playing guitar, enriching my life with newfound interests and connections. Like many others at Karam House, my story is a testament to resilience, growth, and the transformative power of education and community. None of it would’ve been possible without the support of everyone, starting with donors to mentors, staff members, and even other students. Thank you for believing in us.