Syrians Still Endure Poverty Despite Relative Calm

Nesma Daher sits with her children inside a room in Douma, Syria June 19, 2023. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
Nesma Daher sits with her children inside a room in Douma, Syria June 19, 2023. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
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Syrians Still Endure Poverty Despite Relative Calm

Nesma Daher sits with her children inside a room in Douma, Syria June 19, 2023. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
Nesma Daher sits with her children inside a room in Douma, Syria June 19, 2023. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi

Nesma Daher survived years of war in a Damascus suburb that was on the frontlines of Syria's conflict. But well after the guns fell silent in her area and even as her country's regional isolation thaws, she says life only gets harder.

A widow from Douma, an opposition-held town until 2018 when government forces took it back, Daher says sometimes she can only feed her four children one meal a day. The family survives on cash assistance from an NGO equivalent to about $7 a month.

Her youngest son, 12, has quit school to work at a factory. "From the day of their father's passing, the days were hard and only got harder," said Daher, 35.

It is a snapshot of the poverty afflicting Syria after more than 12 years of conflict, which mushroomed out of protests against President Bashar al-Assad's rule in 2011.

Though the main frontlines have barely moved in years, with Assad controlling most of the country, humanitarian needs are at their greatest yet, according to Reuters.

The United Nations says more than 15 million people need aid across the country - a record number.

GDP has dropped by more than a half between 2010 and 2020, the World Bank says, and an ever-declining local currency fuels inflation.

Amid other international emergencies, the United Nations is struggling to fund its support to Syrians in need. In June, it said its appeal for humanitarian work in Syria this year - $5.4 billion - had only been 11% funded.

Since then, at least 350,000 people have been killed, millions uprooted and public infrastructure left in ruins.

The devastating earthquake that hit Syria and neighbouring Türkiye in February only compounded the suffering.

The World Bank lists sanctions among several shocks that have hit economic conditions, alongside armed conflict, drought, and the effects of a financial crisis in neighbouring Lebanon.

Jihad Yazigi, an expert on Syria's economy, said even Syrians for whom sanctions are not a worry do not invest due to a difficult business climate, citing corruption, along with shortages of manpower and inputs for production.

The United States says the sanctions aim to put pressure on Damascus for a political solution.

Obeida Abu Mohamed, 33, opened a car spare parts workshop in Douma in 2019. Business has declined, particularly in the last six months as people fix rather than buy new ones.

"Nobody can afford them," said the father of two.

Today, he does not make enough to cover the rent on the premises or feed his family, he said.

"I don't have enough money to buy all the food we need."



With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
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With Israeli Tanks on the Ground, Lebanese Unable to Bury Dead

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher
Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, who was displaced from Beit Lif in southern Lebanon saying there was tank fire around when he tried to venture into his home last week after the truce between Israel and Hezbollah, stands next to belongings in Tyre, southern Lebanon November 30, 2024. REUTERS/Aziz Taher

When a ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah came into effect last week, Lebanese hotelier Abbas al-Tannoukhi leapt at the chance to bury a dead relative in their southern hometown of Khiyam, battered for weeks by intense clashes.

Tannoukhi's cousin had been killed in one of the final Israeli airstrikes on Beirut's suburbs before Wednesday's ceasefire, which stipulated an end to fighting so residents on both sides of the border could return home.

But with Israeli troops still deployed in southern Lebanon, Tannoukhi coordinated his movements with Lebanon's army. Last Friday, he and his relatives pulled into the family graveyard in Khiyam, six km (four miles) from the border, with an ambulance carrying his cousin's body.

"We just needed 30 minutes (to bury her)," Tannoukhi, 54, said. "But we were surprised when Israeli tanks encircled us - and that's when the gunfire started."

Tannoukhi fled with his relatives on foot through the brush, wounding his hand as he scrambled between rocks and olive groves to reach safety at a checkpoint operated by Lebanese troops.

Soon afterwards, they tried to reach the graveyard again but said they were fired on a second time. Shaky footage filmed by Tannoukhi features sprays of gunfire.

"We couldn't bury her. We had to leave her body there in the ambulance. But we will try again," he told Reuters.

The ordeal highlights the bitterness and confusion for residents of southern Lebanon who have been unable to return home because Israeli troops are still present on Lebanese territory.

Israel's military has issued orders to residents of 60 southern Lebanese towns not to return home, saying they are prohibited from accessing their hometowns until further notice.

The US-brokered ceasefire deal grants both Lebanon and Israel the right to self-defense, but does not include provisions on a buffer zone or restrictions for residents.

"Why did we go back? Because there's a ceasefire," Tannoukhi said. "It's a halt to hostilities. And it is a natural right for a son of the south to go to his house."

The Israeli military did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

PEACE OF MIND

The ceasefire brought an end to over a year of hostilities between Israel and Lebanese armed group Hezbollah, which began firing rockets at Israeli military targets in 2023 in support of its Palestinian ally Hamas in Gaza.

Israel went on the offensive in September, bombing swathes of Lebanon's south, east and the southern suburbs of Beirut. More than 1.2 million people fled their homes.

After the 60-day ceasefire came into effect last Wednesday, residents of Beirut's suburbs returned home to vast destruction, and some Lebanese from the south were able to return to homes further away from the border.

But both sides began accusing each other of breaking the deal, with Israel saying suspicious movements in villages along the south constituted violations and Lebanon's army pointing to Israeli tank fire and airstrikes as breaches.

Mustafa Ibrahim al-Sayyed, a father of 12, was hoping to return home to Beit Lif, about two km from the border.

But nearly a week into the ceasefire, he is still living at a displacement shelter near Tyre, a coastal city about 25 km from the border.

He tried to venture home alone last week, but as soon as he arrived, there was tank fire around the town and he received a warning on his phone that his town was in the Israeli military's "no-go" zone.

Sayyed is still stuck in displacement and wants to get home.

"I hope we go back to our town so we can get peace of mind," he said.