While I was walking out of Siverek this morning about eight 10-year-old boys came running up to me.
One of the boys was jumping up and down, gesturing wildly, his face contorted in anger, yelling that Syrians were not welcome and that I should move on.
I turned to face the boys and took off my sunglasses.
While the angry boy continued jumping and screaming, I chatted with his friends and began introducing myself.
“Where are you from?” one of the boys asked.
“I am an American,” I answered.
Upon hearing this, the angry boy calmed down a bit, pushed to the front of the group, and introduced himself as “Ronaldo” (a famous footballer).
“Nice to meet you, Ronaldo,” I said. I shook his hand, and then shook a few more before turning back around and continuing to walk.
By that point the angry boy had calmed down enough such that the expression on his face said, “I should still be angry about something, but I’m not sure what now.” Before I got too far away he caught up to me and reintroduced himself using his real name.