In War-Torn Gaza, Fears of a New ‘Nakba'

 A woman reacts after an Israeli strike near an United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA) school in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip on October 21, 2023. (AFP)
A woman reacts after an Israeli strike near an United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA) school in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip on October 21, 2023. (AFP)
TT

In War-Torn Gaza, Fears of a New ‘Nakba'

 A woman reacts after an Israeli strike near an United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA) school in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip on October 21, 2023. (AFP)
A woman reacts after an Israeli strike near an United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA) school in Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip on October 21, 2023. (AFP)

Omar Ashur became a refugee during the "Nakba" or "catastrophe" experienced by Palestinians following Israel's creation 75 years ago and now fears the ongoing bombardment of Gaza will again force him into exile.

A retired general from the Palestinian Authority security forces, 83-year-old Ashur lives in Al-Zahra in central Gaza where Israeli missiles flattened an area of more than 20 buildings late on Thursday.

Residents had been warned to flee before the strikes, but many of them raced into the street with no idea of where to go.

When they returned in the early hours of Friday morning, they found a scene of devastation, with several blocks of buildings reduced to smoking ruins and rubble, an AFP journalist said.

The area lies about 10 kilometers (six miles) south of Gaza City where Israeli warplanes have focused their fierce bombardments since Hamas militants stormed into Israel on October 7, beginning an attack that has killed at least 1,400 people, mostly civilians, Israeli officials say.

Although Israel urged Palestinians living in northern Gaza to head south ahead of an expected ground operation, Ashur decided to stay.

Beyond the ongoing bombardment, he also worries about the future, fearing the war will push Gaza's residents -- two-thirds of whom are refugees -- to flee again.

'Destruction with a clear aim'

"What's happening is dangerous," Ashur told AFP.

"I fear that the ongoing destruction has a clear aim, so people don't have a place to live which will spark a new Nakba," he said, referring to the 760,000 Palestinians who fled or were expelled from their homes during the 1948 war that accompanied Israel's creation.

Gaza's population of 2.4 million is largely made up of descendants of those refugees.

Ashur was just eight when he and his family fled in 1948 from Majdal -- what is today the Israeli town of Ashkelon -- to Gaza.

And for him, the ongoing war brings back painful memories.

"What's happening today is much worse. At the time, Israel would shoot to kill and force people to flee but the current situation is more horrific," he said.

The October 7 attack was the deadliest attack on Israeli soil since the state was founded, with most of the victims shot, mutilated or burnt to death on the first day, according to Israeli officials.

Since then, more than 4,300 Palestinians, mainly civilians, have been killed in relentless Israeli bombardments, according to Gaza's health ministry.

'A hellish night'

At least a million Gazans have been displaced by the ongoing bombing campaign, the UN says, with Israel also cutting off supplies of water, electricity, fuel and food to the impoverished enclave.

Gazing at the destruction in Al-Zahra is Rami Abu Wazna, his haggard face struggling to take it in. At least 24 buildings were razed, an AFP journalist said.

"Even in my worst nightmares, I never thought this could be possible," he whispers.

Thousands of residents who had fled the neighborhood spent the night trying to find shelter from dozens of Israeli strikes.

"Why bomb us, we're civilians! Where will we go? Everything is gone," Abu Wazna said.

"We heard our grandparents speak of the Nakba and today we're the ones living it," he continued. "But we won't leave our land."

Among the ruins, Umm Ahmad and her two sons are trying to salvage a few of their belongings.

"We've had a hellish night. The sky was red, everything was destroyed," she says, her robes covered in dust.

"We didn't take anything with us. I'm trying to find clothes for the children so they don't get cold," she says.

"They want to make us homeless."



Damascus’ Mazzeh 86 Neighborhood, Witness of The Two-Assad Era

Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
TT

Damascus’ Mazzeh 86 Neighborhood, Witness of The Two-Assad Era

Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi

In the Mazzeh 86 neighborhood, west of the Syrian capital Damascus, the names of many shops, grocery stores, and public squares still serve as a reminder of the era of ousted Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and his late father, Hafez al-Assad.

This is evident in landmarks like the “Al-Hafez Restaurant,” one of the prominent features of this area. Squares such as “Al-Areen,” “Officers,” and “Bride of the Mountain” evoke memories of the buildings surrounding them, which once housed influential officials and high-ranking officers in intelligence and security agencies. These individuals instilled fear in Syrians for five decades until their historic escape on the night of the regime’s collapse last month.

In this neighborhood, the effects of Israeli bombing are clearly visible, as it was targeted multiple times. Meanwhile, its narrow streets and alleys were strewn with military uniforms abandoned by leaders who fled before military operations arrived and liberated the area from their grip on December 8 of last year.

Here, stark contradictions come to light during a tour by Asharq Al-Awsat in a district that, until recently, was largely loyal to the former president. Muaz, a 42-year-old resident of the area, recounts how most officers and security personnel shed their military uniforms and discarded them in the streets on the night of Assad’s escape.

He said: “Many of them brought down their weapons and military ranks in the streets and fled to their hometowns along the Syrian coast.”

Administratively part of Damascus, Mazzeh 86 consists of concrete blocks randomly built between the Mazzeh Western Villas area, the Mazzeh Highway, and the well-known Sheikh Saad commercial district. Its ownership originally belonged to the residents of the Mazzeh area in Damascus. The region was once agricultural land and rocky mountain terrain. The peaks extending toward Mount Qasioun were previously seized by the Ministry of Defense, which instructed security and army personnel to build homes there without requiring property ownership documents.

Suleiman, a 30-year-old shop owner, who sells white meat and chicken, hails from the city of Jableh in the coastal province of Latakia. His father moved to this neighborhood in the 1970s to work as an army assistant.

Suleiman says he hears the sound of gunfire every evening, while General Security patrols roam the streets “searching for remnants of the former regime and wanted individuals who refuse to surrender their weapons. We fear reprisals and just want to live in peace.”

He mentioned that prices before December 8 were exorbitant and beyond the purchasing power of Syrians, with the price of a kilogram of chicken exceeding 60,000 Syrian pounds and a carton of eggs reaching 75,000.

“A single egg was sold for 2,500 pounds, which is far beyond the purchasing power of any employee in the public or private sector,” due to low salaries and the deteriorating living conditions across the country,” Suleiman added.

On the sides of the roads, pictures of the fugitive president and his father, Hafez al-Assad, were torn down, while military vehicles were parked, awaiting instructions.

Maram, 46, who previously worked as a civilian employee in the Ministry of Defense, says she is waiting for the resolution of employment statuses for workers in army institutions. She stated: “So far, there are no instructions regarding our situation. The army forces and security personnel have been given the opportunity for settlement, but there is no talk about us.”

The neighborhood, in its current form, dates back to the 1980s when Rifaat al-Assad, the younger brother of former President Hafez al-Assad, was allowed to construct the “Defense Palace,” which was referred to as “Brigade 86.” Its location is the same area now known as Mazzeh Jabal 86.

The area is divided into two parts: Mazzeh Madrasa (School) and Mazzeh Khazan (Tank). The first takes its name from the first school built and opened in the area, while the second is named after the water tank that supplies the entire Mazzeh region.

Two sources from the Mazzeh Municipality and the Mukhtar’s office estimate the neighborhood’s current population at approximately 200,000, down from over 300,000 before Assad’s fall. Most residents originate from Syria’s coastal regions, followed by those from interior provinces like Homs and Hama. There was also a portion of Kurds who had moved from the Jazira region in northeastern Syria to live there, but most returned to their areas due to the security grip and after the “Crisis Cell” bombing that killed senior security officials in mid-2012.

Along the main street connecting Al-Huda Square to Al-Sahla Pharmacy, torn images of President Hafez al-Assad are visible for the first time in this area in five decades. On balconies and walls, traces of Bashar al-Assad’s posters remain, bearing witness to his 24-year era.