(REUTERS/Alaa Al-Faqir)Kadiri brought the discipline back to Inkhil when he returned in 2015 and now leads a team of 15 teens to perform in some of the most challenging parts of town. Spectators often watch, and the team also records and photographs their moves to share on social media. Physical danger is always in the mix: Broken toes, bruises, and twisted necks happen regularly, and Kadiri was once bedridden for days after throwing his back out during a stunt. But the risk is part of the allure.
(REUTERS/Alaa Al-Faqir)
(REUTERS/Alaa Al-Faqir)For Kadiri and his team, parkour is about more than an adrenaline rush. "Parkour gets us out of the atmosphere of war and makes us forget some of our pain and sorrow," Kadiri told Reuters. "It makes me feel mythical."And the sentiment isn't unique to Inkhil: The sport has spread to other war-torn parts of the world — from Iran to Gaza and beyond — offering young people a way to feel powerful, to act their age, and gain a modicum of control in an otherwise chaotic existence."When I jump from a high place," an 18-year-old Syrian told Reuters, "I feel free."Here's a glimpse at the Inkhil parkour team's daring acrobatics.
(REUTERS/Alaa Al-Faqir)
(REUTERS/Alaa Al-Faqir)
(REUTERS/Alaa Al-Faqir)
