Henry Riyanto Sofyan, MD

The Story of Wesam Mekdad “I am a Palestinian from #Gaza. I fled my homeland in search of safety and the opportunity to work so that I could send money back to my family, who are surviving under the horrors of war. The road was grueling and full of obstacles. First, I went to Egypt, where I waited a full year just to secure a Turkish visa. From Turkey, I attempted to cross into Greece. I failed twice, enduring imprisonment both times. It was only on my third attempt that I finally reached Greek soil. Once there, I was placed in a refugee camp for a year, waiting for a residence permit. But the moment I finally received it, my life was shattered again: I was unjustly imprisoned for four years. My trial was a sham, and it became deeply clear to me that refugees are not treated equally under the law there. Eventually, I was released. Seeking a fresh start, I traveled to Berlin, where I met my wife and we were married. Together, we moved to the Netherlands to apply for asylum. I truly believed that the Netherlands, as a nation built on human rights, would understand our plight. Because I am an innocent man and had absolutely nothing to hide, I was entirely honest with the authorities. I openly told them about my imprisonment in Greece. Tragically, my honesty was weaponized against me. We were shuttled endlessly between different reception centers. During this time, my wife became pregnant. We held onto the hope that the authorities would show compassion for our situation and for our unborn child. Instead, the hammer fell: we received a negative decision. My asylum application was rejected. I was handed a deportation order to Egypt and a two-year entry ban from Europe. My wife’s application was also rejected; she was ordered back to Germany. They told us coldheartedly that even if our child were born on Dutch soil, it would change nothing. The fact that my family in Gaza is trapped in an active war zone seemed to mean absolutely nothing to them. Desperate to prove who we are, I went to the Palestinian Embassy in the Netherlands and obtained official documents confirming my Palestinian nationality and the identity of my family in Gaza. I handed these papers to the authorities. Yet, it feels as though we are screaming into a void. No one is listening. Is this fair? Why is this happening when all I ever wanted was to build a stable, quiet life for myself, my wife, and our daughter? Why am I being condemned for a prison sentence I served unjustly in Greece? I had hoped the Dutch authorities would help me prove my innocence, but instead, they simply wronged me again. Where are human rights? Where are the rights of a child? Where are the rights of a woman? I have lodged an appeal and am now awaiting the judge’s decision. In the meantime, the stress, anxiety, and suffocating uncertainty mount every single day. I am constantly terrified of what tomorrow will bring. I have been stripped of my right to work and my freedom of movement is heavily restricted. Then, the breaking point came. One day, I received devastating news. In a flash of pure despair, unable to contain the agony inside me, I smashed a television and damaged the door. It was inside my own room—not someone else's. I harmed no one. The center staff called the police. They knew my wife was nine months pregnant. When the officers arrived, I told them myself. My wife looked them in the eyes and told them that I would go with them voluntarily and respectfully. I had not used violence against a single soul. I remained calm because I believed I would simply give a statement at the station and return to her. Yet, they treated us as if we were dangerous. They treated a heavily pregnant woman as a threat. This is my story. I feel that my wife, my daughter, my family in Gaza, and I have been deeply, profoundly wronged by the system. But I still believe that eventually, the truth will come to light. Justice cannot remain hidden forever.” Baby Reem born premature (5 days after the attack)