In Libya's Devastated Derna, Families Still Search for the Missing

A man dumps mud collected while cleaning his house, which was affected by fatal floods, in Derna, Libya, September 28, 2023. REUTERS/Esam Omran Al-Fetori
A man dumps mud collected while cleaning his house, which was affected by fatal floods, in Derna, Libya, September 28, 2023. REUTERS/Esam Omran Al-Fetori
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In Libya's Devastated Derna, Families Still Search for the Missing

A man dumps mud collected while cleaning his house, which was affected by fatal floods, in Derna, Libya, September 28, 2023. REUTERS/Esam Omran Al-Fetori
A man dumps mud collected while cleaning his house, which was affected by fatal floods, in Derna, Libya, September 28, 2023. REUTERS/Esam Omran Al-Fetori

Since a huge flood swept away whole neighborhoods of Libya's city of Derna last month, Abdulsalam al-Kadi has been searching for his father and brother. He doesn't expect to find them alive but he wants to bury them so he has a grave to mourn over.
With friends, he has scoured mudbanks where his family's house once stood. He has asked every hospital. He has pored over many of the photographs of the 4,000 bodies recovered so far, Reuters said.
"We thought maybe the sea took them. Maybe they were in the harbor. Those were really tough days. They still are really tough days," said the 43-year-old who spent two days traveling to Derna from his new home in the United States.
Three weeks after the flashflood killed thousands of people, many survivors have yet to find their loved ones, even as Libya's rival factions squabble over who to blame for the disaster and how to rebuild the ruined city.
Many families now face the prospect that they may never find out what happened to parents, children or other relatives despite efforts to identify bodies - many buried hastily in mass graves - using photographs or DNA testing.
Kadi, who could barely recognize his hometown when he arrived, says his mother and sister still hold out hope his father and brother survived. But Kadi says he has had to come to terms with the fact that they died.
"What was difficult in the first few days was hope. People would say they saw them somewhere. For us it was as if they died again every day," he said. "It drove me crazy."
COMPLICATED RECONSTRUCTION
Derna, a coastal city in eastern Libya known as a cultural center, was built on a seasonal river that ran from a mountain range into the sea.
The city had suffered in the chaos that followed Libya's 2011 NATO-backed uprising. ISIS militants seized the city in 2015 - killing one of Kadi's two brothers - before eastern forces under commander Khalifa Haftar captured it.
The devastation now is on a different scale. Overnight, a narrow valley that ran between neat streets and buildings was turned into a wide expanse of mud, rocks and lumps of masonry.
But organizing Derna's reconstruction will be complicated, with Libya split between an internationally recognized government in Tripoli in the west and eastern regions controlled by Haftar with parallel institutions.
Aid efforts are visible on the streets, with mechanical diggers clearing debris. But residents, speaking to Reuters last week, complained that they had not received any help in repairing or rebuilding homes or businesses.
Mohamed al-Ghoeil, 49, was trying to clear mud that caked shelves of a grocery store owned by his brother.
"There is a total absence of the state to reassure citizens," he said. "We decided to lessen some of our pain by cleaning what we can to bring life back to the afflicted areas."
The government in the east, which is not internationally recognized, said on Sunday it was postponing an international reconstruction conference it had planned. The Tripoli government has also said it would hold a conference, without giving a date.
In a fractured nation, reconstruction and the coordination required could fuel another tussle for power, analysts say.
The cost of casual laborers has already shot up too high for Khaled al-Fortas, who said he could not afford the elevated wages demanded by workers to help clear his damaged home.
For Kadi, the priority remains finding his lost family members - a daunting task for him and thousands of others.
"A whole city was underwater, with people in the buildings," he said. "It is impossible to pull them out with our capabilities."



Syria’s Al-Qusayr Celebrates Eid al-Fitr without Hezbollah for First Time in Years

People perform Eid Al-Fitr prayers in Al-Qusayr. (Sami Volunteer Team)
People perform Eid Al-Fitr prayers in Al-Qusayr. (Sami Volunteer Team)
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Syria’s Al-Qusayr Celebrates Eid al-Fitr without Hezbollah for First Time in Years

People perform Eid Al-Fitr prayers in Al-Qusayr. (Sami Volunteer Team)
People perform Eid Al-Fitr prayers in Al-Qusayr. (Sami Volunteer Team)

Amid the devastation, thousands of residents of Syria’s Al-Qusayr performed Eid Al-Fitr prayers in the northern district square—the site where the city’s first protest against President Bashar al-Assad’s rule erupted in 2011.

For the first time in Al-Qusayr’s history, Eid prayers were held in a public square. It was also the first mass gathering of residents in an open space in 13 years, following a war that destroyed 70% of the city, displaced its people, and led to its capture by Lebanon’s Hezbollah and Syrian regime forces.

Al-Qusayr, a region located near the Lebanese border, was once Hezbollah’s most significant stronghold in Syria. The group withdrew after the fall of the Syrian regime in December, but its loyalists and affiliated locals remained, along with residents of several border villages that have seen sporadic clashes in recent months.

The most intense fighting occurred in February, when Syrian forces launched a military operation that pushed them into Lebanese territory and deployed troops to seal off illegal border crossings.

Tensions flared again two weeks ago after Syrian soldiers were killed in the border region, triggering an exchange of artillery fire between the two sides.

The clashes left casualties on both ends and forced the displacement of border village residents before a ceasefire was reached with the Lebanese army.

The agreement included the closure of four illegal crossings in an effort to curb the smuggling of weapons and drugs, a trade that has flourished over the past decade under the former regime.

As soon as the regime fell, refugees from Al-Qusayr living in Lebanese camps began returning to their hometown. Hundreds arrived to find their homes completely destroyed, forcing them to set up tents beside the ruins while they rebuilt or searched for alternative housing.

The residents of Al-Qusayr resumed their communal Eid traditions after Ramadan. (Sami Volunteer Team)

The large turnout for Eid prayers underscored the scale of the return.

Journalist Ahmed al-Qasir, who recently came back, estimated that about 65% of those displaced have now returned. Before the uprising, Al-Qusayr had a population of around 150,000, he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Shahin, 30, who returned in 2018, described the city as a wasteland at the time, despite some 20,000 people having already come back.

“Hezbollah, regime militias, and smugglers controlled the area. There were no real markets, just small shops. Everything was in ruins—schools, clinics, hospitals,” he said.

Residents had to travel 30 kilometers to Homs for basic necessities, enduring regime checkpoints that extorted money along the way.

With the fall of Assad’s regime and Hezbollah’s withdrawal, life in Al-Qusayr has slowly begun to return to normal. Since the start of Ramadan, markets have reopened despite widespread destruction, poverty, and hardship.

On the eve of Eid, the city’s streets buzzed with late-night shopping, Shahin noted.

“Al-Qusayr is finally regaining its role as the region’s commercial hub,” he said.

According to a survey by the Sami Volunteer Team, more than 30,000 refugees returned to Al-Qusayr and its countryside within the first month of the regime’s collapse.

That number is believed to have doubled over the past four months, and team organizers expect it to rise further once the school year ends.

Zaid Harba, a member of the 40-person volunteer group, said most returnees came from refugee camps in Lebanon, while fewer arrived from displacement camps in northern Syria.

Many families there are waiting for the academic year to conclude before arranging their return.