ISIS Wives at Syria’s Al-Hol-Camp Complain about Struggles of Living in ‘Isolated State’

A woman walks through al-Hol displacement camp in Syria April 2, 2019. (Reuters)
A woman walks through al-Hol displacement camp in Syria April 2, 2019. (Reuters)
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ISIS Wives at Syria’s Al-Hol-Camp Complain about Struggles of Living in ‘Isolated State’

A woman walks through al-Hol displacement camp in Syria April 2, 2019. (Reuters)
A woman walks through al-Hol displacement camp in Syria April 2, 2019. (Reuters)

With their husbands having been dealt a blowing defeat by the US-led International Coalition and the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), dozens of ISIS wives now face the challenges of living in Syrian refugee camps.

Al-Hol camp, located in northeastern Syria near borders with Iraq, hosts crowds of women and children who traveled thousands of miles away from home to be with their husbands, brothers and fathers who had joined the ranks of the terrorist organization in the Levantine country.

Today, ISIS wives and children face the tough reality of their husbands and fathers having been killed or locked away for trial at a time most Western and Arab countries are refusing to repatriate nationals who had joined the terror group in Syria.

Jawaher, a 45-year-old Syrian national from the central Hama city, is an ISIS wife currently staying at al-Hol. She, like many of her fellow women at the camp, is refusing to leave before knowing the fate of her husband, who has been arrested by SDF authorities.

“My husband, an ISIS employee, voluntarily surrendered to the SDF during the battle of Baghouz. It’s been over 22 months since I last heard any news of him. I requested visitation rights yet with no avail,” Jawaher dressed in a black niqab told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“We will not leave before knowing the fate of our husbands, brothers and sons,” she shouted alongside a crowd of ISIS wives who gathered in front of the camera.

First established during the second Gulf War in the 1990s, al-Hol camp is built to receive a maximum of 20,000 people.

Significantly overcrowded, the camp hosts today over 60,000 individuals, most of whom are displaced Syrians and Iraqi refugees. It also includes a special section for immigrant women, where nearly 12,000 females of 52 Arab and Western nationalities are kept.

Onoud, 27, is an Iraqi national who could not hold her tears back while telling the story of how she ended up at al-Hol.

“I was a 17-year-old girl when my father decided to join ISIS. I was first married off to an Iraqi fighter who was killed a few months later, then I married a Moroccan fighter. After my second husband disappeared (likely killed), I married an Iraqi who is 30 years older than me,” she recounted, blaming fate for what had happened to her.

She went on to complain about the dire living conditions ISIS wives suffer from at al-Hol, which she said now resembles an “isolated state.”

In this closed off camp, women and children endure a bitter life and struggle to secure bare necessities for survival, all while waiting patiently to know what happened to their husbands and fathers.



Lebanese Whose Homes Were Destroyed in the War Want to Rebuild. Many Face a Long Wait

FILE - A man pauses as he looks at destroyed buildings in Dahiyeh, Beirut, Lebanon, Nov. 29, 2024. (AP Photo/Bilal Hussein, File)
FILE - A man pauses as he looks at destroyed buildings in Dahiyeh, Beirut, Lebanon, Nov. 29, 2024. (AP Photo/Bilal Hussein, File)
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Lebanese Whose Homes Were Destroyed in the War Want to Rebuild. Many Face a Long Wait

FILE - A man pauses as he looks at destroyed buildings in Dahiyeh, Beirut, Lebanon, Nov. 29, 2024. (AP Photo/Bilal Hussein, File)
FILE - A man pauses as he looks at destroyed buildings in Dahiyeh, Beirut, Lebanon, Nov. 29, 2024. (AP Photo/Bilal Hussein, File)

Six weeks into a ceasefire that halted the war between Israel and Hezbollah, many displaced Lebanese whose homes were destroyed in the fighting want to rebuild — but reconstruction and compensation are slow in coming, The Associated Press reported.
Large swaths of southern and eastern Lebanon, as well as Beirut’s southern suburbs, lie in ruins, tens of thousands of houses reduced to rubble in Israeli airstrikes. The World Bank estimated in a report in November — before the ceasefire later that month — that losses to Lebanon's infrastructure amount to some $3.4 billion.
In the south, residents of dozens of villages along the Lebanon-Israel border can't go back because Israeli soldiers are still there. Under the US-negotiated ceasefire deal, Israeli forces are supposed to withdraw by Jan. 26 but there are doubts they will.
Other terms of the deal are also uncertain — after Hezbollah's withdrawal, the Lebanese army is to step in and dismantle the militants' combat positions in the south. Israeli officials have complained the Lebanese troops are not moving in fast enough — to which they say the Israeli troops need to get out first.
Reconstruction prospects — and who will foot the bill — remain unclear.
In 2006, after the monthlong Israel-Hezbollah war, Hezbollah financed much of the $2.8 billion reconstruction with ally Iran's support.
The Lebanese militant group has said it would do so again and has begun making some payments. But Hezbollah, which is also a powerful political party, has suffered significant losses in this latest war and for its part, Iran is now mired in a crippling economic crisis.
The cash-strapped and long paralyzed Lebanese government is in little position to help and international donors may be stretched by the post-war needs in the Gaza Strip and neighboring Syria.
Many Lebanese say they are waiting for Hezbollah's promised compensation. Others say they received some money from the group — much less than the cost of the damage to their homes.
Manal, a 53-year-old mother of four from the southern village of Marjayoun has been displaced with her family for over a year, since Hezbollah began firing rockets into Israel on Oct. 8, 2023, in support of its ally Hamas in Gaza.
Israel responded with shelling and airstrikes in southern Lebanon. In July, Manal's family heard that their home was destroyed. The family has now sought compensation from Hezbollah.
“We haven’t received any money yet,” said Manal, giving only her first name for fear of reprisals. “Maybe our turn hasn’t arrived."
On a recent day in southern Beirut, where airstrikes had hit just 100 meters (yards) away from his home, Mohammad watched as an excavator cleared debris, dust swirling in the air.
He said his father went to Hezbollah officials and got $2,500 — not enough to cover $4,000 worth of damage to their home.
“Dad took the money and left, thinking it was pointless to argue,” said Mohammad, who also gave only his first name for fear of repercussions. He said his uncle was offered only $194 for a similarly damaged home.
When the uncle complained, Mohammad said, Hezbollah asked him, “We sacrificed our blood, what did you do in the war?”
Others, however, say Hezbollah has compensated them fairly.
Abdallah Skaiki, whose home — also in southern Beirut — was completely destroyed, said he received $14,000 from Qard Al-Hasan, a Hezbollah-linked microfinance institution.
Hussein Khaireddine, director of Jihad Binaa, the construction arm of Hezbollah, said the group is doing as much as it can. Its teams have surveyed over 80% of damaged houses across Lebanon, he said.
“We have begun compensating families,” he said. “We have also started providing payments for a year’s rent and compensations for furniture.”
Khaireddin said their payments include $8,000 for furniture and $6,000 for a year’s rent for those living in Beirut. Those who are staying elsewhere get $4,000 in money for rent.
Blueprints for each house are being prepared, he said, declining to elaborate on reconstruction plans.
“We are not waiting for the government," he added. “But of course, we urge the state to act."
There is little the government can do.
The World Bank's report from mid-November said Lebanon's infrastructure and economic losses from the war amount to $8.5 billion. And that estimate doesn't take into account the last month of the war, Deputy Prime Minister Saadi Chami told The Associated Press.
“The government does not have the financial resources for reconstruction,” he said bluntly.
The World Bank said 99,209 housing units were damaged — and 18% of them were completely destroyed. In southern Beirut suburbs alone, satellite analysis by Lebanon’s National Center for Natural Hazards and Early Warning identified 353 buildings completely destroyed and over 6,000 homes damaged.
Lebanese officials have appealed to the international community for funding. The government is working with the World Bank to get an updated damage assessment and hopes to set up a multi-donor trust fund.
The World Bank is also exploring an “emergency project for Lebanon,” focused on targeted assistance for areas most in need, Chami said, though no concrete plan has yet emerged.
“If the World Bank gets involved, it will hopefully encourage the international community to donate money,” Chami said.
Ali Daamoush, a Hezbollah official, said earlier this month that the group has mobilized 145 reconstruction teams, which include 1,250 engineers, 300 data analysts and hundreds of auditors — many apparently volunteers.
The compensations paid so far have come from “the Iranian people,” Daamoush said, without specifying if the money was from Iran's government or private donors.
Jana, a 29-year-old architect, is volunteering with Hezbollah teams to survey the damage to her hometown of Nabatiyeh in southern Lebanon. Much of the city is destroyed, including an Ottoman-era market. Her father’s warehouse was hit by airstrikes, and all the medical supplies stored there were consumed by a fire.
Hezbollah officials "told us not to promise people or discuss reconstruction because there is no clear plan or funding for it yet,” she told the AP. She did not give her last name because she wasn't authorized to talk about Hezbollah's actions.