Syrian Emigrant Stuck In Belarus Refuses to Return to 'Hell'...As Another Reaches the 'European Dream'

Two migrants at the Belarusian-Polish border on Wednesday (AP).
Two migrants at the Belarusian-Polish border on Wednesday (AP).
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Syrian Emigrant Stuck In Belarus Refuses to Return to 'Hell'...As Another Reaches the 'European Dream'

Two migrants at the Belarusian-Polish border on Wednesday (AP).
Two migrants at the Belarusian-Polish border on Wednesday (AP).

I would rather die here than go back to hell. Even the police officer at Damascus airport asked me about my destination, and whether it was Germany or the Netherlands, and then said to me: Lucky you. I wish I was with you.”

Those are the words of “Fouad”, a young Syrian man, who has been stuck in Belarus since his arrival in Minsk on Oct. 28.

The fear of this young man and five of his “new friends” prompted them to contact “Arab brokers” in search of a “way out of this trap” between the inability to cross into European Poland, and the fear of “falling” into the hands of the Belarusian authorities who would send them back to Syria.

As for “Rafik”, he was among the lucky ones who left the “Syrian nightmare” and reached the “European dream”. When he arrived at the border, “six great soldiers of Belarus came and raised the barbed wire for us, while one of them pointed to Poland, and told us: "Go, good luck.”

Indeed, “Rafik”, his father, and others arrived in Germany. “The risk is worth it,” he says. “I will never return to our country.”

How did it all start?

“Fouad” is a young man who lived in Damascus. He graduated from university years ago and worked for a short period with a salary that did not cover the minimum cost of living with the deterioration of the Syrian pound rate against the dollar. But then he lost both his modest job and hope and began dreaming of travelling abroad.

He contacted a government-licensed travel and tourism office in central Damascus, borrowed money from his relatives and paid $3,600 to obtain his visa to Belarus. The deal included a visa, flight fare through the Cham Wings airlines, and a reservation in a hotel in Minsk for a few nights.

Meanwhile, “Fouad” called a relative to arrange contact with a smuggler from Minsk to the Polish border. For this purpose, he paid the amount of 2,500 euros. He says he was lucky because others paid the smuggler 10,000 euros per person.

He collected his basic needs in a bag, and put a mobile phone and $1,000 in his pocket. At nine o’clock in the morning of October 27, he received the visa at the tourism office, which was crowded with dozens of applicants looking for the “European dream”, or “exit from the Syrian nightmare.”

They took the bus to Damascus airport.

“Fouad” recounts: “We got to the window of the border security official… who then asked me: Where are you going? Germany? Then he added, “Lucky you, I wish I was with you.””

On board were about 200 people, mostly young men, and some families. They arrived in Minsk around seven o'clock in the evening. When the plane landed, a bus came and took them all to the terminal building. They went upstairs, where the shock was.

“All the world was here. Young people and families from Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria and Lebanon,” he says.

Many hours later, a security man came and “led us like cows. He was walking at the head of the queue, in front of about 200 people. He was leading us left and right, until we reached a hall,” according to “Fouad.”

He adds: “There they took each person’s mobile phone. They recorded his serial number with the passport, most likely to monitor us.” After that, each person goes alone to the checkpoint to confirm the passport, phone and visa, with an eye print. The process took a long time.

Upon leaving the airport at the dawn of Oct. 28, a bus transported the arrivals to their hotels. While few of the people spent the night in the hotel, many headed straight to Poland’s borders, according to prior arrangements with smugglers, he recounts.

The Borders

When Fouad arrived, the Belarusian mood changed from “raising the wires to facilitate the passage of migrants into Poland, to beating them and returning them to the capital.”

Rafik had better luck. He says: “There, the Belarusian army men lifted the barbed wire and encouraged us to cross to Poland…A big soldier raised the wires, and another hit the Polish soldiers with stones so that we could cross without them seeing us.”

Some migrants crossed, while about 1,000 people gathered at the border, amid the worsening political crisis between Belarus and European countries.

On his way back to the capital, “Fouad” contacted another “Arab broker” whom he had known in front of the hotel. He arranged for his group to rent a basement in a building and promised to try to smuggle them again.

Fouad says: “We heard that a plane belonging to Cham Wings will come to Minsk on Nov. 28 to return a group of us to Damascus. We all decided that we would not go back to Hell.”

He adds: “We rented an apartment for a month, for $1,000, waiting for one of two solutions; either we cross to Poland, or we go to Moscow, and from there we take a taxi to Finland and then Europe, according to what one of the Arab brokers promised us.”



On Lebanon Border, Israel and Hezbollah’s Deadly Game of Patience

Smoke is seen as an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) is intercepted following its launch from Lebanon, amid cross-border hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, at Kibbutz Eilon in northern Israel, July 23, 2024. (Reuters)
Smoke is seen as an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) is intercepted following its launch from Lebanon, amid cross-border hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, at Kibbutz Eilon in northern Israel, July 23, 2024. (Reuters)
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On Lebanon Border, Israel and Hezbollah’s Deadly Game of Patience

Smoke is seen as an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) is intercepted following its launch from Lebanon, amid cross-border hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, at Kibbutz Eilon in northern Israel, July 23, 2024. (Reuters)
Smoke is seen as an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) is intercepted following its launch from Lebanon, amid cross-border hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, at Kibbutz Eilon in northern Israel, July 23, 2024. (Reuters)

In deserted villages and communities near the southern Lebanon border, Israeli troops and Hezbollah fighters have watched each other for months, shifting and adapting in a battle for the upper hand while they wait to see if a full scale war will come.

Ever since the start of the Gaza war last October, the two sides have exchanged daily barrages of rockets, artillery, missile fire and air strikes in a standoff that has just stopped short of full-scale war.

Tens of thousands have been evacuated from both sides of the border, and hopes that children may be able to return for the start of the new school year in September appear to have been dashed following an announcement by Israeli Education Minister Yoav Kisch on Tuesday that conditions would not allow it.

"The war is almost the same for the past nine months," Lieutenant Colonel Dotan, an Israeli officer, who could only be identified by his first name. "We have good days of hitting Hezbollah and bad days where they hit us. It's almost the same, all year, all the nine months."

As the summer approaches its peak, the smoke trails of drones and rockets in the sky have become a daily sight, with missiles regularly setting off brush fires in the thickly wooded hills along the border.

Israeli strikes have killed nearly 350 Hezbollah fighters in Lebanon and more than 100 civilians, including medics, children and journalists, while 10 Israeli civilians, a foreign agricultural worker and 20 Israeli soldiers have been killed.

Even so, as the cross border firing has continued, Israeli forces have been training for a possible offensive in Lebanon which would dramatically increase the risk of a wider regional war, potentially involving Iran and the United States.

That risk was underlined at the weekend when the Yemen-based Houthis, a militia which like Hezbollah is backed by Iran, sent a drone to Tel Aviv where it caused a blast that killed a man and prompted Israel to launch a retaliatory raid the next day.

Standing in his home kibbutz of Eilon, where only about 150 farmers and security guards remain from a normal population of 1,100, Lt. Colonet Dotan said the two sides have been testing each other for months, in a constantly evolving tactical battle.

"This war taught us patience," said Dotan. "In the Middle East, you need patience."

He said Israeli troops had seen an increasing use of Iranian drones, of a type frequently seen in Ukraine, as well as Russian-made Kornet anti tank missiles which were increasingly targeting houses as Israeli tank forces adapted their own tactics in response.

"Hezbollah is a fast-learning organization and they understood that UAVs (unmanned aerial vehicles) are the next big thing and so they went and bought and got trained in UAVs," he said.

Israel had responded by adapting its Iron Dome air defense system and focusing its own operations on weakening Hezbollah's organizational structure by attacking its experienced commanders, such as Ali Jaafar Maatuk, a field commander in the elite Radwan forces unit who was killed last week.

"So that's another weak point we found. We target them and we look for them on a daily basis," he said.

Even so, as the months have passed, the wait has not been easy for Israeli troops brought up in a doctrine of maneuver and rapid offensive operations.

"When you're on defense, you can't defeat the enemy. We understand that, we have no expectations," he said, "So we have to wait. It's a patience game."