As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow

Reinforcing the theme of Love and Faith Through Tragedy, Kenan finally decides to leave Syria out of affection for Salama and loyalty to his younger siblings. Kenan, who represents patriotism with his illuminating videos, gives in. He realizes he can’t leave his siblings to Salama, and she supports his decision: “Syria isn’t just what we’re standing on. It’s Lama growing up, reaching her teens with her two big brothers right there with her. It’s Yusuf getting the highest grades and telling everyone about the lemon trees in Homs. It’s you” (220). Kenan wants to protect his loved ones and Syria itself from afar. Like Salama, he also has a duty to his lost parents, his other loved ones. He becomes aware of the larger context of “fighting,” which doesn’t just mean physically attacking or protesting but keeping others free and happy. This revelation gives Kenan depth and highlights the precarious balance of Survival, Fear, and Patriotism.

In remaining committed to leaving Syria and loving Kenan, Salama also experiences character growth. The otherwise shy woman yells at Kenan to escape with her, surprising both of them with the truth: “The world is not sweet or kind. The ones outside are waiting to eat us and pick their teeth with our bones. That’s what they’ll do to your siblings. So we do everything to make sure we and our loved ones survive” (216). Her harsh declaration comes from love, as she can’t bear the thought of being separated from him. With these words, Salama convinces him of the realities of war and saves him from his likely demise. This was a brave move that could have ended their romance, but she took the risk.

Likewise, during the sarin chemical attack, Salama rises above her fear, giving into fury instead:

And I realize the anger was always there, growing slowly and surely. It began long ago when I was born under the thumb of a dictatorship that kept on applying pressure until my bones fractured. It kindled into a small flame when Mama and I held hands and prayed as the protestors’ throaty voices ricocheted off our kitchen walls. It fused with my bones, its flames licking through my myocardium, leaving decayed cells in its wake, when Baba and Hamza were taken. It built and built and built with each body laid in front of me. And now, it’s a roaring fire crackling along my nervous system (233).

Salama’s shift toward defiance proves she can keep growing. As a protagonist, she needs to face challenges, learn, and grow into a different person than she was at the start of the story. As part of her arc, she turns to anger as fuel, and insists on attending a protest with Kenan. The old Salama would have never done so, instead fighting her own way by caring for the sick and injured, which is noble in its own right. However, she now wants to join the revolution on the front lines. Though Khawf tries to deter her, her fury pushes her to face her fear head-on, with Kenan by her side.

The repeated use of faith over fear, especially during the protest, is an important motif. Salama, Kenan, and countless others make comments about God protecting them and say Arabic phrases like Insha’Allah—“God willing.” Having faith propels Salama forward. For example, she believes protesting will make her feel better about leaving Syria. She often states Alhamdulillah—“praise be to God”—whenever a patient survives, and Kenan tells her to “have faith.” Adhering to faith, the characters find hope and solace in otherwise painful circumstances.