A dream born in wartime
In Syria, becoming a doctor or a pharmacist means giving your life to science, spending your youth in classrooms, burning your nights between books and lectures, while others stay up late by the light of war and bullets. In Syria, young people were not just students, they were fighters in a battle against poverty, against circumstances, against time that turned their dreams into a struggle for survival.
Hazar Nezha, 25, was one of those young people, a Syrian pharmacist who struggled to reach her dream. Since her childhood, she saw medicine as a life, science as a survival, and hope as a path, even though her generation never knew a day without destruction. But despite everything, she chose life, she chose to be a light in this long night.
A bride whose joy is not complete
Just a few months ago, Hazar was a bride celebrating her joy, dreaming of a bright future, and sharing dreams with her husband Ali that they thought would last. Her life was just beginning, she was preparing her home, planting love in every corner, helping people, smiling at them, giving them medicine and giving them hope.
But life didn’t give her enough time, and death didn’t even give her time to fully savour her dream.
Monsters from the darkness. Killers who don’t know life
In a single moment, death came to her home, not just death, but an ugly, strange, faceless, inhuman monster. She had no enemy, she was not a party to a war, she did not carry a weapon, she did not fire a bullet, all she carried in her life was her knowledge, her dreams, and her faith that did not leave her until the last moment.
But this was not enough to protect her from the wind of terrorism, from the death coming from Chechnya. From the ugly killers who came to kill beauty, innocence, and life.
They came and killed Hazar, her mother, Mrs Wahiba, her brother, Dr Ibrahim, and her pharmacist sister, Noor. They came to extinguish her light, because death hates life, ugliness hates beauty, and darkness hates light. This crime was part of the massacres in the al-Qusour neighbourhood of Baniyas, which took place during the period of the brutal massacres on the Syrian coast.
Her last words… A cry for help in the face of death
In her final moments, she grabbed her phone and wrote on Facebook:
“Lord, please be kind to us😔”
Simple words, but they carry indescribable horror, immeasurable pain, a sense of death approaching, of life being taken away, of fear wrapping around the soul like a black shroud.
But God didn’t save her, Hazar didn’t survive, her prayers didn’t save her, because the devil was faster and death was more cruel.
Ali. Living witness to the tragedy
Her husband, Ali, was by her side, but he could not protect her, he could not protect his bride who did not complete her joy. He was seriously injured, but he survived, to carry his wound for life, to bear witness to a night where there was no mercy, there was no reason, there was nothing but cold blood, spiteful knives, and murderers who came from far away to kill the people of the earth.
We won’t forget you, Hazar.
Hazar was not a fighter, she was not a politician, she was just a young doctor who loved life and was killed by those who only know death.
Hazar was a symbol of a generation that never lived a day without war, but never stopped dreaming.
Hazar was the face of science, purity, and light, but she passed away in the most horrible way, because in this world, the only guilt that deserves to be killed is that you loved life too much.
But Hazar will not be forgotten.
Her name will remain in the memory of those who loved her, her story will remain a witness to an indelible injustice, and her laughter, which was extinguished, will remain a light that exposes the ugliness of the killers.
May God have mercy on you, Hazar, and have mercy on your mother and siblings, may heaven be more just than this cruel earth.
