Maarouf E-Book

Nurgül Sönmez

• Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 145

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Maarouf Maarouf, a boy who dedicated his life to his family. At the age of 15, he joined the military to serve his country. After rigorous military training until the age of 18, he was taken hostage on his first mission. Thus begins a fight for life and death. How long can a person withstand violence? How long can he endure a life in agony? Tears of pain, sadness and hope. The fate of a young man, a dream worth fighting for. Will Maarouf make it through this rocky road to freedom? Will he escape this hell? The incredible story of a man who was abandoned by his homeland. Written after a true story.

Leseprobe

To all book lovers...

Biography

Nurgül Sönmez

21.08.1979 Germany

In the years between 1995-2020, she often received awards.

She began writing in 1995 and has written countless poems,

song lyrics and novels. Written based on true events.

The rights to over 50 novels and over 2500 song lyrics were taken over

by various publishers and famous composers.

Now she no longer stands behind the scenes,

but with her works in the middle of the stage.

AUTHOR'S WORKS

Her first book ANA (Poem - Turkish) was published in

2014

2015

YASEMİN’İN SAVAŞI (Turkish)

2017

YASEMİN’İN İNTİKAMI (Turkish)

2021

Matilda (Turkish, German)

1001 GECE YERİNE - BİN BİR GÜN (Turkish)

STATT 1001 NACHT - TAUSENDUNDEIN TAG (German)

YASEMİN’İN ÇARESİZLİĞİ 1 (Turkish)

YASEMİN’İN SAVAŞI 2 (Turkish)

YASEMİN’İN İNTİKAMI 3 (Turkish)

2022

Matilda (English)

YASEMINS VERZWEIFELUNG 1 (German)

MAAROUF (Turkish, German)

INSTEAD OF 1001 NIGHT - THOUSAND AND ONE DAY (English)

YASEMINS KAMPF 2 (German)

© Nurgül Sönmez

2023

YASEMINS RACHE 3 (German)

2024

YASEMIN’S DESPERATION 1 (English)

YASEMIN’S STRUGGLE 2 (English)

YASEMIN’S REVENGE 3 (English)

MAAROUF (English)

All books have been translated into French and are planned for future book projects. This will be followed by translations into Arabic and Spanish. If there is interest and demand, there will also be translation in other languages.

Her works © are based on true events and she continue to support social projects with the proceeds of the books.

Soon also available as audiobooks!

Thousands of voices can be hope for a voice.

Maarouf, a boy who dedicated his life to his family.

At the age of 15, he joined the military to serve his country.

After rigorous military training until the age of 18, he was

taken hostage on his first mission.

Thus begins a fight for life and death.

How long can a person withstand violence?

How long can he endure a life in agony?

Tears of pain, sadness and hope.

The fate of a young man, a dream worth fighting for.

Will Maarouf make it through this rocky road to

freedom?

Will he escape this hell?

The incredible story of a man

who was abandoned by his homeland.

Written after a true story.

Written after a true story.

My name is Maarouf!

I was born on 04.01.1987 in M’Sila, a town near Boy Saada in Algeria. Like everyone else, I was a completely normal child. My parents had six children with me: my older sister, two younger ones, my older brother and a younger one. I was allowed to attend school until the last three years of middle school. Only a few made it that far. Of course, there was the option of going to the mercenary school. I’m not saying there weren’t better or higher schools, of course there were, but only for those who had the money! In general, after elementary school, which usually lasted two years, that was it for most. Some were not lucky enough to be able to go to school. Others left school of their own accord after learning to read and write a little, even though elementary school was compulsory.

There was no such luxury as certificates. Certificates of recognition were issued, which included criteria such as attending classes or passing courses. I was one of the lucky ones. I was very grateful for this document. I had studied systematically up to the fifth grade in my country. As I said, that was the last course anyone could take, there was nothing more. At least I had found my way there. If you wanted to go to secondary school, study or do an apprenticeship, you had to move to distant cities. Many had relatives in other cities where they could go to study. I went away too, not to study, but to work.

I had never thought about what I should do.

It came as it had to come.

I did my best to support my father and my family. I hauled water, worked as a porter, worked in the bakery and later in the patisserie. Today I can bake bread as well as cakes, loaves and pies. There was nothing I didn’t do as a child. In the meantime, I have worked in many different cities. For example: Batna, Tizi Ouzou, Constantine, Bouira, Khenchela, Biskra. These were towns near us. Although I knew I had no accommodation, I went there for several nights. As a child, I didn’t worry about that. I usually slept in a quiet place that I found somewhere outdoors. Sometimes I wouldn’t come home with a lump sum for weeks or months.

I felt compelled to work.

My older sister had married in the meantime and moved out. My older brother joined the army. In other words, after my father, I was the boss at home and my honored mother was the Royal Highness. If he wasn’t there, my word was listened to. My family greeted me with a festive feast. I used to have enough money to pay for my siblings’ clothes, my sisters’ education costs, my parents’ needs and the needs of the house. My father’s name was Abu Bakr. I gave the rest of the money I had earned and saved to my father, the master of the house. If someone asked me what my wealth is in the world was, I would answer: “My mother and my father”.

My revered, dear mother was called Karima. She went without food and drink just to feed us. I thought that all mothers acted like this, but I had already seen creatures who could not be called human beings because they threw their newborns in the garbage or abandoned them in the middle of the desert. That’s why my mother was special to me and very precious, just as every mother should be special. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, I would get everything for her and always be there for her. As long as I had this strength and ability, I continued to look after my mother.

I have been working for four to five years now. I had already opened all the gates of the towns near us, now I had to go further. Even as a child, I held my wages in my hand. I didn’t need anyone to survive. Here, the age of children was measured by their eyes, not by their years. A school leaver was considered a teenager here if he didn’t work. I didn’t know what it was like in our town in the meantime.

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 1

I started my military service when I was just 15 years old. Now I was serving in the border areas of Algeria. Djanet was right on the border with Libya. It was not far from the border with Niger, just like Mali. It was a part of Algeria that had been declared a high-risk zone. The military training was very hard and was finally behind me. When I was 18, they sent me to another region where an even more dangerous phase of military service awaited me. It was called:

“You must obey all orders. You have no other choice.”

Our commander told us this instruction. Then he sent us to the border area. We were told that traitors had attacked our country, mingled with the people and burned down the houses. Our people were already poor, there was hardly anything to steal. We were sent out with about 70 soldiers. We set off in tanks, trucks and other military vehicles. On the one hand, I was scared, but on the other, the slogan was: “Soldier, fear nothing!” The slogan excited me. There was nothing on our way but desert and rocks. Suddenly our convoy was ambushed. A hail of fire rained down on the convoy. Two of our military vehicles were shot at and eleven of our soldiers died. But we had to obey the order to drive on. I was conflicted, because my siblings, mom and dad were always in my thoughts. I didn’t even know exactly which enemy I was up against. On the one side, there were those ordering us to counterattack; on the other, traitors were attacking my people... It was a band of rebels, a cruel group that directly harmed our country and our people. They ruthlessly burned down the houses and the families with their children that they killed.

Since we were in indirect danger, we opened fire. We left the position near the tanks and answered them in the language they understood. We thought they would pay for the loss of the eleven soldiers who lost their lives. But they also blew up our other military vehicle. Our numbers continued to dwindle, we lost good men. It was a field of fire. While they cowardly sought shelter in the mountains and shot at us from above, we sat at the enemy’s table in the middle of the desert. We took cover behind the small cacti, unable to defend ourselves or shoot. Of course, we tried to move quickly, but under these circumstances, it was a difficult undertaking. I was sitting in the tank. At an unpredictable moment, they surrounded us. Military vehicles flew over us. We didn’t know how many vehicles or how many rebels there were.

The trucks were full of enemies. These men were a treacherous group that could not settle in Libya, Mali, Niger or Algeria. It was a ruthless, unrestrained, brutal, treacherous group that sprayed poison everywhere. Without hesitation, they murdered children in front of their mothers and even tortured pregnant women. This community of unscrupulous people was rejected from everywhere. No one gave them refuge, they only wanted to conquer the country.

Now we were surrounded by traitors in this place. Should I say one hundred and eighty or two hundred and twenty? There were as many as at a wedding. They were all holding Kalashnikovs, shouting slogans from the military vehicles and shooting in the air. They forced us to get out of the vehicles. Some of us who had surrendered were simply shot with our hands up.

I didn’t know how long we had fought before we lost. We had fallen into a trap. They harshly ordered us to put our hands on the vehicles, then they searched us. All weapons, hand grenades, rifles, Kalashnikovs and ammunition were confiscated. The prisoners were to be taken to their quarters, that was all we heard. They were ruthless people. Anyone who disobeyed was shot, beaten or tortured to death. They didn’t even bat an eyelid.

The group forced us to our knees. We had to clasp our hands behind our heads and lower our heads. That way I couldn’t see what was happening behind me. I can still hear the fighting, the gunshots and the slogans. As soldiers, we were defeated and held hostage. Before we were taken into the vehicles, our sleeves were pushed up and our wrists were brutally tied together. They also put cloth sacks over our heads.

Like my other surviving soldier brothers, I was also loaded into one of their vehicles. We were now sitting in an open SUV, but I didn’t know how many of us had survived.They beat us mercilessly with the butts of their pistols. What did they want? Why were they doing this for a piece of land? Couldn’t we all live together in four countries? What did they want from us? I don’t want to give their full names here, because I was still very scared today. This information will have to suffice, because I don’t want to dig any deeper here to protect myself and my family.

Each story awaits its time.

CHAPTER 2

These traitors kidnapped us. They took us somewhere in their vehicles, but the destination remained a mystery to us. After four or five hours of driving, they took us out of the vehicle. With our heads covered and our arms tied, they dragged us further. They continued to kill those who resisted and disobeyed their orders. Again they ordered us to fall to our knees. I guessed that we were kneeling with our backs to them. But I didn’t know for sure.

For a while, we could hear them talking to each other from a distance, so it seemed as if they were nowhere near us. But the opposite was the case, they were right below us, behind us and around us. As my soldier brothers thought they were unobserved at the moment, they whispered to each other. A mistake, because they were killed with a single bullet.

None of us could see to the right or left. The cloth was still wrapped around our heads, which were on our knees, and our hands were still tied. Now we waited to see what would happen to us. From time to time they passed us in groups. They behaved confidently, as if we were on their turf. Their behavior was downright relaxed. They kept us in the dark about where we were!

I was only eighteen years old when I fell into the hands of bandits. They looked like wild animals. Their beards reached almost to their navels or their chests. They didn’t wear military uniforms like we did. They didn’t have uniforms that indicated that they came from the military power of a state.

They spoke neither Arabic nor French. I was sure that I had never heard this language in Algeria, Niger, Mali or Libya. It sounded as if they had mixed four languages into a language of their own. I could recognize similarities in some of the words. But I didn’t know which language it was.

They left us like that for a long time. I couldn’t do anything with what I heard. I didn’t have any information about them. Until then, I practiced silence and tried to listen to the conversations of the groups passing us by. They weren’t city thugs smuggling goods. They had settled in a country that didn’t officially belong to them. The village or town where they were staying confiscated it and called it their property. From what I heard at the time, I suspected that they had a leader behind them, because I had come to the conclusion that they didn’t have the strength and confidence to do these things on their own.

It was getting darker and darker under the fabric over my head. Night had fallen. Countless creatures stood over us with guns and ordered us to get up. They were taking us to a place where they could torture us. Unsure, I tried to obey the order, even though I could see nothing. I felt stones, dust and earth beneath me. Stumbling and falling, I reached the place where we were to go. We had to plan very well and think carefully about what we had to do to escape!

I found it very difficult to breathe. Especially because the cloth in front of my mouth had become wet from breathing.

It took strength and we were already having more than enough trouble. Then we were there and had to lie down on the floor. With our hands tied, we lay on our hips. Although the floor was concrete, it was dusty and earthy.

Even now, as I tell my story, I feel this pain, these stones in my hip.

More and more rebels joined in and shouted slogans. My excitement grew, I was powerless against my fear. I couldn’t even name the unknown attackers as soldiers. The military acted on behalf of the state and protected the state and its people. That cost them a lot of strength. That was the only reason the soldiers were fighting, our position was clear in this case. We were soldiers of the Algerian state. And what about them? If I called them soldiers, it would be an insult to every soldier in every nation. I didn’t know what to say or what to call them.

As a form of harassment, they started kicking us when we were already lying on the ground. They jumped on us and stomped on us with their feet. We were bullied. They didn’t care if they hurt us or broke our bones. Their aim was to harm us and torture us.

When we were attacked, we alerted our barracks. They were told about a fierce battle. They said we had lost dozens of soldiers and that our military vehicle had been blown up. Although we had passed on this information, there was no word from our commander.

Was he perhaps among us?

When they came at us and hurt us, they were amused and gave us the cold shoulder. The sounds of them hitting our heads with their guns or jumping on our bodies and laughing, I just couldn’t erase them from my memory. Those screams of pain still echoed in my ears. I think it’s impossible to forget them!