Syrian refugee Dayana Halawo to throw out the Astros’ first pitch in her new country.
Refugee who escaped war-torn Syria excited to be honored by the Astros
Dayana Halawo was nine months pregnant when Syrian planes started bombing her neighborhood in 2012.
As the nation’s brutal civil war raged into its second year, government forces began carrying out a major military offensive in Homs, a key opposition stronghold at the time. The central Syrian city, home to thousands of civilians, including Halawo, her husband Mohamed and 1-year-old son, abruptly transformed into a war zone.
Halawo was sitting in her fourth-floor apartment when the building next door was decimated by an aerial bomb. The expectant mother and her family hurried downstairs and fled, suspecting correctly that their building would crumble next.
“I was so scared about my kids,” Halawo said. “I was pregnant and my son was so little. When we heard bombs or airplanes, we were so scared. We knew the situation was very dangerous. We knew we couldn’t stay there.”
They left for the Syrian capital of Damascus first, where Hal awo gave birth to her daughter, Joudi. When the conflict arrived in Damascus, they fled to Lebanon, then Jordan, then Egypt and back to Jordan again.
The four-year journey to find a permanent home ended last August when the family resettled in Houston with the help of the United Nations Refugee Agency, part of the 8,692 total refugees relocated to Texas in 2016.
Above all else, Halawo was grateful Laith, 7, and Joudi, 5, were finally safe. The two may never fully grasp what their mother went through to make that possible, but they get to see a fraction of her courage on display Monday night at Minute Maid Park.
Ready to take the mound
Having never tossed a baseball until just weeks ago, Halawo will throw out the first pitch ahead of the Astros’ series opener with Tampa Bay.
It is the second consecutive year the team, in partnership with Houston-based nonprofit Amaanah Refugee Services, will honor a refugee with “the chance to do something truly American.”
“I’ve been practicing this,” Halawo said with a laugh as she showed off her technique with an imaginary ball. “I’m very excited.”
Halawo, an English teacher in Syria before the war broke out, continues to help children
learn the language at Houston’s AwesomeAcademy, an Amaanah program that serves students who have arrived in the United States through the refugee resettlement process.
“Dayana representsevery thing that Amanah is trying to achieve,” said Ghulam Kehar, CEO of Amaanah Refugee Services. “After she and her family had to flee Syria, she lost the opportunity to use her talents. Now she is in Texas and back teaching. She’s become a positive role model and exemplary community member. She was a natural choice to throw out the pitch.”
“I am so happy to helprefugees," Halawo said .“A lot of stu dents came from war and bad lives. I help them start a new life and help them be happy.”
Despite escaping the wartorn
Middle East, Halawo’s American experience has brought its own set of challenges.
Halawo, 29, is one of the lucky few who did not lose an immediate family member during the war, but she was forced to leave behind both parents and two sisters in Syria. She said they are safe and able to keep in touch, but she does not know the next time she’ ll be able to see them.
Halawo grew teary-eyed when discussing President Donald Trump’s temporary travel ban, a modified version of which went into effect late last month. It bars visitors from six majority-Muslim countries, including Syria, from entering the U.S. for 90 days and all refugee settlement for 120 days.
Harassment in Houston
Hal awo worries for those she knows stuck in Jordan, Turkey and Lebanon due to the executive order.
“Some people sold everything,t hey have nothing and are living on the street because their travel was stopped,” she said. “I don’t understand (the ban). We are not the ones making war.”
Halawo, whow ears the hi jab, said she has also dealt with verbal harassment in Houston as a Muslim woman.
“Some people when they see us, they make a problem with me,” Halawo said. “Like on a public bus, I met a man and he said, ‘Get out. Go back to your country. Why are you here?’ ”
Overall, though, Halawo described her first year in the U.S. as“different, but comfortable,” in large part, thanks to the Amaanah organization.
The non-profit helped her and her husband find work, schools for their children and a supportive community which she cherishes.
More than 300 of its members will be sitting in Minute Maid’s left-field upper deck when Halawo steps onto the diamond.
The ball she uses Monday will be the first the family has ever owned; lately, she has been practicing with one lent to her by a friend.
Laith — a budding baseball fan — has helped out with preparation as well, stepping in as his mom’s pitching coach to calm any nerves.
“I will teach you ,” he told her. “Don’t worry.”
She does not do much of that anymore.