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.”



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
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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.