Maarouf E-Book

Nurgül Sönmez

• Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 149

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

Imprint

MAAROUF Originally translated from German, published in 2022 ©

Nurgül Sönmez

Translation: Nurgül Sönmez Compilation / Editor: Ömer Faruk Arslan Proofreading: Arzu Kaya Cover / Artist: Gamze Taşdemir Book Cover Design: Açelya Soylu Illustration / Index: Gamze Taşdemir

Author Contact Information:[email protected] nurgulsonmezbooksnurgl.snmez65

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To all book lovers...

Biography

Nurgül Sönmez

21.08.1979 Germany

Nurgül Sönmez was born on August 21, 1979 in the town of Werdohl in North Rhine-Westphalia.

She lost her mother in a serious car accident in 1995.

During this time, she was more of a mother than a sister to her eight-year-old brother. In 1999, she was appointed as the guardian of her younger brother. From then on, she replaced both parents and lovingly supported him in all his ways. She has a younger brother and three older sisters.

In 2015, she lost her father to a serious illness.

She achieved many successes between 1995 and 2000. She began writing the year she lost her mother and has written countless poems and novels. All are based on true events. Apart from her unpublished stories, rights to over 50 novels have been acquired by a well-known composer and more than 2500 poems have been acquired by various publishers. Now she is no longer behind the scenes, but on the stage with her works.

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)

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!

Excerpts from my real life!

I like to express myself in simple colloquial language. Preferably warmly and honestly. Nevertheless, I am of course also used to expressing myself professionally and in a way that suits my environment.

We speak a little differently everywhere, don’t we? It always depends on who you’re talking to.

I have a certain talent for languages because I grew up bilingual. My mother tongues are German and Turkish. I don’t find it difficult to communicate in different languages. I can communicate with my body language anytime and anywhere. I think you could expose me to any country in the world and I would always be able to communicate with the people there. Is this an undiscovered talent?

Other countries, cultures and languages fascinate me. So is it any surprise that I have already traveled to over 40 countries in our beautiful world? Even I wouldn’t have thought there were so many countries (laughs out loud). I’ve traveled around a bit...

I didn’t actually travel to these countries as a tourist, as you might think. Most of my visits were to meet the heroes of my books. To meet books. Business visits, so to speak. That does not count as a vacation. I’ve hardly ever taken a “vacation”, if at all.

I have discovered real projects close to my heart on a few trips.

I became a sponsor for 3 orphanages in 3 different countries. Turkmenistan, Afghanistan and Nigeria.

Before I finish, I would like to share some memories from these orphanages with you. I visited one of my heroes from an unpublished story in Turkmenistan. I spent about 12 days there. During that stay, we met a little boy who was crying on the sidewalk. He looked different from the other children there. We stood there helplessly with a crying, grieving child of 3-4 years old. As we didn’t know how we could help the boy, we alerted the police. Together with a policeman, we drove to the local police station. The child was a Pakistani boy and was to be placed in an orphanage. All the details he was able to provide were recorded by the police and handed over to the orphanage. We accompanied him to the orphanage.

“Who found this child?” one of the caretakers at the orphanage asked us. “Me,” I said. “What should he be called?” he asked.

“Mohamed,” I replied. We took all the documents for a sponsorship with us. I made a promise to myself; I want this boy to go far one day. I want him to have a chance of a better life. He is Pakistani and he should not be separated from his homeland. This promise was never broken. He studied and got married one day. Yes, I have adopted him as son. Today he is a consul in his home country of Pakistan.

When I visited Mohamed, I noticed four girls who made me curious. I had to know more about them. Four sisters, inseparable. They were beautiful. Immigrant children of Mongolian Turks. Their parents died young. I felt for these four girls as I did for Mohamed, and took on their responsibility including their professional life. For some of them I was like a sister, for others like a friend, for some like a mother and daughter. They have given me many happy moments so far. Even if I hadn’t give a birth to a baby, I have 526 children.

I also played a key role in changing the law in Afghanistan to make everyday life easier for women there.

I don’t see myself as an activist, I’m not. I see myself more as a part of life.

To this day, I haven’t spoken to anyone about it. You shouldn’t talk so much about good deeds. Just do them. If everyone does it, maybe together we can make this world a little more bearable.

I am wholeheartedly committed to social projects.

The more books you order, the more help we can give to the victims.

And to you, dear reader. If you have a life story that touches our hearts, write to us!

Together we are strong.

Thousands of voices can be hope for a voice.

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

Social Donation Activity

Your donation is in safe hands

I would like to donate a certain percentage of the total annual

income from the books to charities and those in need.

If you want to be a part of this donation, you can do so by

purchasing my books. My works are available in all known

bookstores. It can be purchased or ordered from bookstores. You

can also order from all online bookstores worldwide.

To buy a signed book, you can contact me or send me an e-mail

from my social media accounts. Signed books can be dispatched

anywhere in Europe.

Together we are strong

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.

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.