How I Move Dema Aktaa
The Syrian refugee, who lost her left leg in a bombing raid, walked a mile to help fight coronavirus in migrant camps – but her dream is to run in the Paralympics
I was 18 when my entire leg was torn into pieces during a bombing raid a year into the Syrian war.
The date will always be etched into my mind: Sept 13, 2012. I remember it as if it was yesterday. It was a relatively quiet day in my hometown, but suddenly the bombing started and, amid all the shelling, my house was destroyed. I was at home walking from the living room out onto the terrace when, out of nowhere, it was hit.
There was no proper hospital in my home village of Salqin, so I endured a two-hour trip to the nearest big city, Idlib, where I stayed in hospital for a week.
I lost a lot of blood and feared for my life. When I woke up in my hospital bed, a doctor told me I would never be able to run again. We had no house to return to after the bombing, so, after moving to Lebanon, I eventually settled in the UK with my mum and my brother. It was there where I thought: “I will get my leg back again and I will run again.”
Last month, I walked a mile near my home in Flitwick, Bedfordshire, on my prosthetic leg to help raise more than £70,000 to fight coronavirus outbreaks in migrant camps all over the world.
It was part of a global campaign to raise money for Help Refugees’ initiative Around the World in 40 Days, in which hundreds of people pledged to travel a chosen distance to collectively cover 24,901 miles – equating to the circumference of the earth – during the coronavirus lockdown.
The walk was difficult because I have developed a problem with my stump – it holds a lot of blood, which causes me a lot of pain and significant bruising.
Despite the discomfort, I pushed through and, by the end of the mile, I was overwhelmed with happiness and relief that I had achieved something positive. The thought of all those refugees in migrant camps who were in a
worse position than me and exposed to a pandemic in a war-torn country helped me put one foot in front of the other.
My dream is to run again and one day compete at the Paralympics.
I only started running at 16 when I entered a local inter-school competition back home, where I won second place. When I came to the UK, I was fortunate enough to be given a prosthetic leg from the NHS, but I need a smart one to run, which costs £13,000. I am crowdfunding for it because I love running, it is my whole world. It is the one thing that allows me to challenge myself.
Before the lockdown I was working as a supervisor in a primary school in Flitwick and the kids in my class called me “robot girl” because of my prosthetic leg.
I found it funny, but, humour aside, I am desperate to have life-changing surgery that will allow me to fit a new smart prosthetic, which has been put on
hold because of the coronavirus pandemic. Not having that operation is technically stopping me from embarking on my Paralympic journey.
I don’t think about the leg I lost, but the leg I still have and I try to block out the word “disability” when I hear it used.
I prefer to describe people such as myself – those who are missing limbs or who might have other health complications – as people who are strong-willed, people who are made of steel. I find solace in God, who has looked after me and kept me going. I feel we all have a mission in this world and no matter how small it is, we can accomplish it. I have already decided that the mile I walked is going to be the first of many goals I set myself, because being a victim of war has made my dream to run again burn stronger. I refuse to give up.
I feel we all have a mission in this world and no matter how small it is, we can accomplish it