Syrian Castle among Quake-Hit Ancient Sites at Risk

In this file photo taken on February 7, 2023, the minaret of the Ayyubid mosque inside Aleppo's ancient citadel is cracked following a deadly earthquake that shook Syria. (AFP)
In this file photo taken on February 7, 2023, the minaret of the Ayyubid mosque inside Aleppo's ancient citadel is cracked following a deadly earthquake that shook Syria. (AFP)
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Syrian Castle among Quake-Hit Ancient Sites at Risk

In this file photo taken on February 7, 2023, the minaret of the Ayyubid mosque inside Aleppo's ancient citadel is cracked following a deadly earthquake that shook Syria. (AFP)
In this file photo taken on February 7, 2023, the minaret of the Ayyubid mosque inside Aleppo's ancient citadel is cracked following a deadly earthquake that shook Syria. (AFP)

Zuhair Hassoun examines worrying cracks in a Crusader-era castle in Syria, a UNESCO World Heritage site that survived centuries of conflict only to be badly damaged by last month's deadly earthquake.

Hassoun, the custodian of the Fortress of Saladin, an architectural treasure with Byzantine roots in the 10th century rebuilt by Frankish Crusaders in the 12th century, walked carefully past fissured walls and crumbling arches.

"All of the fortress's towers are in danger," Hassoun said, warning that one had already fallen after the quake.

Other parts "will inevitably collapse", he said, adding that it was only "a question of time".

The hilltop fortress surrounded by forest was among dozens of cultural heritage sites that officials say were damaged in the devastating 7.8-magnitude quake that hit Türkiye and Syria on February 6.

More than 50,000 people were killed in the disaster, almost 6,000 of them in Syria.

Ancient sites damaged included the Syrian city of Aleppo's famed citadel and Old City.

Dozens of sites damaged

The Fortress of Saladin has been on the United Nations' World Heritage List since 2006, and on the list of World Heritage in Danger since 2013, two years after the start of Syria's civil war.

But the castle, in western Syria's mostly government-held province of Latakia, scraped through the conflict unscathed and was still open to the public -- until last month's quake.

Hassoun said he feared that aftershocks or even heavy rain could cause further damage to the site, whose main facade is now cracked from top to bottom.

"Every (stone) slab weighs at least a ton," he said. "Any part of the fortress that falls into the valley can never be retrieved."

The earthquake hit one of the longest continuously inhabited areas on the planet within the so-called Fertile Crescent home to ancient civilizations including the Sumerians and Phoenicians.

This rich history has left behind a plethora of archaeological sites, many of them thousands of years old.

At the national museum in the capital Damascus, the head of the antiquities and museums department pored over a map of quake-stricken Syrian heritage locations, including in areas outside government control.

"We have identified more than 40 damaged sites," Nazir Awad said, noting that the provinces of Aleppo, Idlib, Latakia and Tartus were badly affected.

"The Citadel of Aleppo and the Old City recorded the worst damage," he added.

The day of the quake, AFP photographers saw damage in Aleppo to parts of the citadel, including to a minaret of a mosque at the World Heritage site.

UNESCO, in a preliminary assessment, cited "significant damage" to the citadel and said the western tower of the old city wall had collapsed, while several buildings in the souks had been weakened.

'Urgent intervention'

Some Syrian heritage sites "require urgent intervention so we don't lose priceless historical treasures", Awad said.

He called for "international quake experts" to assess damage across the country, citing reports of "severe damage" to several sites in rebel-held areas.

An AFP photographer saw heavy damage to the Saint Simeon Stylites monastery -- an ancient Christian pilgrimage site named after a famous hermit -- in northern Aleppo province, an area controlled by the Hayat Tahrir al-Sham extremist group.

In the north of neighboring Idlib province, some of the walls and courtyard arches of a centuries-old castle in the border town of Harim had collapsed, another AFP correspondent said.

Firas Mansour, a teacher and antiquities enthusiast in Harim, one of Syria's worst-affected areas where dozens of buildings crumpled as residents slept, said he was not surprised that modern buildings had been destroyed.

"But for a castle that withstood centuries of stress to collapse, it is shocking and sad," he said.



Nigerian Farms Battle Traffic, Developers in Downtown Abuja

Developers fill in farmland despite regulations protecting these areas as rare green spaces in Abuja. OLYMPIA DE MAISMONT / AFP
Developers fill in farmland despite regulations protecting these areas as rare green spaces in Abuja. OLYMPIA DE MAISMONT / AFP
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Nigerian Farms Battle Traffic, Developers in Downtown Abuja

Developers fill in farmland despite regulations protecting these areas as rare green spaces in Abuja. OLYMPIA DE MAISMONT / AFP
Developers fill in farmland despite regulations protecting these areas as rare green spaces in Abuja. OLYMPIA DE MAISMONT / AFP

Under the din of traffic from the highway bridge that cuts over his fields, Bala Haruna inspects corn, cassava and okra on his family farm.

A pump pulls up water from a nearby stream and is diverted through trenches dug through cropland wedged between four-lane roads -- fields which were here long before the nearby hotel, the imposing national mosque or any of the high-rises that make up downtown Abuja were even dreamed up.

"There were no buildings here," Haruna, 42, told AFP, reminiscing over his childhood as birds chirped and frogs croaked.

The urban farms dotting Nigeria's capital show the limits of the top-down management the planned city is known for -- oases scattered around pockmarked downtown that has long expanded outward faster than it has filled in.

They owe much of their existence to the fact that they lie in hard-to-develop gulches along creek beds. Even roads built through them over the years tended to be elevated highway overpasses.

That fragile balancing act, however, is increasingly under threat, as developers fill in farmland despite regulations protecting these areas as rare green spaces in a city known for concrete sprawl.

On the other side of the overpass, the future has arrived: the vegetation abruptly stops and temperatures suddenly rise over flattened fields razed by construction crews.

Local farmers said the people who took the land three years ago provided no documentation and only gave the eight of them 300,000 naira to split -- a sum worth only $190 today after years of rampant inflation.

Much of the farmland in and around downtown is supposed to be a municipal green space, with neither farms nor buildings on it.

But enforcement of the decades-old Abuja master plan is ripe with abuse and lack of enforcement, said Ismail Nuhu, urban governance researcher who did his PhD on the capital's urban planning.

Adding to the sense of precarity is that the land, on paper, belongs to the government.

"Politicians still use it to grab lands, just to say, 'Oh, according to the master plan, this is not to be here'," no matter what the document actually says, he told AFP, adding that, technically, even the presidential villa is not located where it is supposed to be.

Nyesom Wike, the minister of the Federal Capital Territory, which includes Abuja, recently told reporters he would "enforce" the 70s-era master plan by building roads and compensating and evicting settlements that stand in the way.

FCT officials including Wike's spokesman did not respond to requests for comment.

Urbanizing country, not enough jobs

The farms have provided steady employment -- a lifeline for some as the rapidly urbanizing country fails to produce enough jobs. A recent opening for 10,000 government jobs saw 450,000 applicants, according to local media.

"Having a green space... in a very thick, populated city like Abuja does a lot of good," said retiree Malik Kuje Guni, who started farming three years ago to supplement his pension.

While tens of thousands of residents pass by the farms each day without second thought, Guni, when he was working as a civil servant, would often come down to visit, enjoying the shade and fresh air.

Now tilling a potato plot of his own, "I can come down, work, sweat," the 63-year-old said. "I have hope something will come out of it."

A few blocks over, squat, informal houses made of wood and sheet metal give way to a field of sugarcane, corn and banana trees. Glass-paneled highrises, half-finished construction and the imposing Bank of Industry tower above.

The crops give way to land cleared by developers a few months ago, some of whom pushed into Godwin Iwok's field and destroyed his banana trees.

Iwok, who quit his security job 22 years ago to make more money as a farmer, has had parts of his fields destroyed twice in the past two years, neither time with compensation.

To Guni, the farms represent the city's rural heritage. Despite decades of government promises to relocate Nigeria's capital from the crowded, congested mega-city of Lagos, the move only occurred in 1991.

But neither Iwok, 65, nor Haruna want their children to continue their increasingly precarious line of work.

"I wouldn't want my children to stand under the sun as I did," Iwok told AFP.

"I only use what I'm getting here... to make sure my children go to school."