Repatriated

After living and working in Cyprus as an exile for the past ten years, Zakariah decided to return to his native Syria four months ago to join the Free Syrian Army (FSA), something he says is "my duty as a Syrian".

Far from unusual, many Syrian ex-pats are now returning to the country to take up arms, fighting against the regime they fled many years before. With little or no military training, sometimes only from the military service in their late teens or early twenties as in Zakariah's case, individuals smuggle themselves into their own country to do what they think will bring freedom, change, and an end to Bashar Al-Assad's very bloody crackdown.

Offering to help in any way possible, the repatriated are viewed most useful when armed, provided they are trusted by the others. Basic training is given and the 'soldiers' join the ranks of military defectors, ex-Mukharrabat, and armed locals. Zakariah thought about his decision to return carefully, considered his options, and then went about getting in touch with what was then a recently formed FSA, via Facebook.
Months passed, and he continued to work in the construction industry in Cyprus, exchanging messages regularly, until he was finally trusted and told to come to Antakya, from where he would be equipped, smuggled into Syria, and provided with basic military training. It was January 2012.

Only 12 months ago Zakariah's life was filled with work, sunshine, a network of international friends, a girlfriend, enjoyment, his life was care-free and moving forward.
Since March 2011 the killing of thousands by their own government, has caused many like Zakariah to return and fight, giving up the life abroad that they left family and friends to make, and spent so much time establishing, to gain freedom for those they left behind.

No news, no answers...

Reyhanli, Hatay, Turkey: Syrian refugee camp
18th March 2012

Months of waiting. No news.
Loved ones dying, missing. No contact.
Questions about the future. No answers.

With the lack of information, your mind fabricates ideas of the worst kind, round and round again and again. Trapped only 20 km away on the other side of the razor wire that separates Turkey from Syria, a daughter is trapped in her village after going back for more children, or at least that was the latest news received three months ago.

Since then anything could have happened, especially since the town was hit by further shelling several days ago, still no news. Sitting with a grandchild she can only hope for the best, put on a positive smile.

An elderly brother lost his wife shortly after hauling her paralysed body to Turkey a few months ago.

Even in exile the loss of life continues, the mind keeps the fear alive; children wet their beds, nobody answers the calls for help and no one has any answers.

A year of struggling

Today is one week until the year anniversary of the beginning of the Syrian rebellion against the Assad regime.
Calling it an anniversary seems wrong, I associate it with happy occasions, not the marking of a battered people for 12 months with figures of close to 10,000 men, women and children dead.

The struggle against the regime has been going on for decades, and mostly from exiled activists, although the brave few that stayed helped the movement gain momentum and supported ordinary people through the toughest moments of their lives. What began as a non-violent resistance movement turned into a now armed fight against the government forces, which some Syrians told me will escalate the amount of force used by government forces, as was well documented in Homs and Baba-Amr.

For the millions of civilians caught up in the fighting, the struggle looks like it won't be finishing anytime soon, and do they have any choice other than supporting the armed side of the resistance in one way or another? Whether it be by food, telecommunications, transport, information, or armed support, most Syrians are realising that it's either support the so called 'Free Syrian Army' or face being on the receiving end of Assad's artillery.

Wounded soldier

Al Janoudiyah, northern Syria, 23rd February 2012

A wounded Free Syrian Army (FSA) soldier lays under a pine tree waiting for a tractor to collect him, to take him to a safe hiding place after the Syrian security services raided a village where he was being treated and hidden.

Luckily escaping capture by the notoriously brutal Syrian security services the first time, Ibrahim managed to escape again from a village where he was being treated, just as the government personnel arrived.

En route to the next hiding place, Ibrahim came under sniper fire sitting on the wheel of a tractor; he luckily managed to avoid further injury.
The following day he was smuggled across the Turkish border for medical treatment in the near by Hatay province of Turkey, where there are large refugee camps provided by the Turkish Red Crescent.

Twice a Refugee and still waiting...

Bissam is now a refugee for the second time, this time in Turkey, after leaving Syria last April, at the start of Syria's 'Arab spring'.
Whilst he awaits news from the UNHCR regarding his refugee status his mind is becoming his enemy.

After escaping Iraq and living for four years in Damascus, Bissam felt that his future would be compromised by the revolution in Syria, and that both the refugee and LGBT community would become a target for those looking to scapegoat minority groups. Nine months ago he arrived in Turkey and applied for refugee status, from when there has been no update on his case.

Being exposed as a homosexual in Iraq meant almost certain death, whilst in Syria it became a dancing game to avoid detection by the authorities, subsequent imprisonment and possible deportation back to Iraq, and in Turkey it's a waiting game. The fear of the unknown has control over Bissam's mind, the future suddenly seems bleaker than before, and the end goal of living an open and free live almost unimaginable.

Living in a small Anatolian City in the depths of a cold winter are taking their toll, on a man that was full of life, charisma and smiles when I last documented his situation from Damascus in late 2010. The smiles are now seldom seen, and the nights are long as he considers his options carefully but erratically instead of sleeping.

The regional instability has killed thousands, and many continue to struggle for freedom, a better life and an end to restrictions on identity.