Sandwiched between Wars, a Syrian-Ukrainian Faces Uncertain Futurehttps://english.aawsat.com/home/article/3532841/sandwiched-between-wars-syrian-ukrainian-faces-uncertain-future
Sandwiched between Wars, a Syrian-Ukrainian Faces Uncertain Future
Victoria Naji, who was born in Syria to a Palestinian father and a Ukrainian mother poses for a picture with her mother, Irina Naji at their home in Damascus, Syria and March 12, 2022. (Reuters)
Sandwiched between Wars, a Syrian-Ukrainian Faces Uncertain Future
Victoria Naji, who was born in Syria to a Palestinian father and a Ukrainian mother poses for a picture with her mother, Irina Naji at their home in Damascus, Syria and March 12, 2022. (Reuters)
Born in Syria to a Palestinian father and a Ukrainian mother, Victoria Naji has spent her life in the shadow of conflict.
Aged 24 and resident in Damascus, Naji came of age during the Syrian war that marks its 11th anniversary on Tuesday having destroyed much of the country.
Recently graduated in fine arts from Damascus University, she had been planning to travel to Ukraine to seek out opportunities in her mother's homeland - until war erupted there last month.
"I said to myself 'I can move to Ukraine in the future'. Now the future is very confused," said Naji, who is Palestinian, Ukrainian and Syrian. "I see war everywhere. There is no safe place for me."
The war in Syria has killed hundreds of thousands of people and forced more than half the population from their homes since spiraling out of protests against President Bashar al-Assad in March, 2011. Russia joined the war in 2015, deploying its air force to Syria in support of Assad.
Russia's invasion of Ukraine, which began on Feb. 24, has sent more than 2.8 million people fleeing across Ukraine's borders and trapped hundreds of thousands in besieged cities. Russia calls its actions a "special military operation" to "denazify" the country.
Naji says her friends and family had been forced to flee Kyiv to safer areas. "God willing nothing more than this happens to Ukraine," she said, as she reflected on happy memories of visits to the country.
Naji's parents married in 1983 and traveled between Ukraine and Syria before settling in Damascus in 1995. Her grandfather on her mother's side fought in World War Two.
On her father's side, the family fled the town of Nazareth in 1948 when Israel was created and 700,000 Palestinians fled or were expelled. They were granted citizenship in Syria.
"I should be happy to have three countries to live in, but I can't live in any of them," Naji said.
Naji has lived in relative safety since the war in Syria broke out, in an area outside Damascus that was not badly affected. One of her friends came to stay for this reason, after her brother was killed in shelling, she added.
The main frontlines of the conflict have been largely frozen for several years. But poverty and hardship are worse than at any point since the war erupted.
Speaking about the start of the war, she said: "The problem is we were young when these things began."
"We grew older and got used to them."
The Ukraine invasion marks the biggest attack on a European state since World War Two.
"I am an artist ... I don't understand why this is happening and I don't want to understand, but I have to because it is my cause - as is Palestine ... and of course Syria," she said.
Long Silenced by Fear, Syrians Now Speak about Rampant Torture under Assadhttps://english.aawsat.com/features/5098692-long-silenced-fear-syrians-now-speak-about-rampant-torture-under-assad
People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
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Long Silenced by Fear, Syrians Now Speak about Rampant Torture under Assad
People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
Handcuffed and squatting on the floor, Abdullah Zahra saw smoke rising from his cellmate’s flesh as his torturers gave him electric shocks.
Then it was Zahra’s turn. They hanged the 20-year-old university student from his wrists and electrocuted and beat him for two hours. They made his father watch and taunted him about his son’s torment.
That was 2012, and the entire security apparatus of Syria’s then-President Bashar Assad was deployed to crush the protests against his rule.
With Assad’s fall a month ago, the machinery of death that he ran is starting to come out into the open.
It was systematic and well-organized, growing to more than 100 detention facilities into which tens of thousands disappeared over more than a decade. Torture, sexual violence and mass executions were rampant, according to rights groups and former prisoners.
A blanket of fear kept Syrians silent about their experiences or lost loved ones. But now, everyone is talking. After the insurgents who swept Assad out of power on Dec. 8 opened prisons and detention facilities, crowds swarmed in, searching for answers, bodies of loved ones, and ways to heal.
The Associated Press visited seven of these facilities in Damascus and spoke to nine former detainees. Some details of the accounts by those who spoke to the AP could not be independently confirmed, but they matched past reports by former detainees to human rights groups.
Days after Assad’s fall, Zahra — now 33 — came to visit Branch 215, a detention facility run by military intelligence in Damascus where he was held for two months.
There, he said, he was kept in a windowless underground cell, 4-by-4-meters (yards) and crammed with 100 other inmates. When ventilators were cut off -- either intentionally or because of a power failure -- some suffocated. Men went mad; torture wounds festered. When a cellmate died, they stowed his body next to the cell’s toilet until jailers collected corpses, Zahra said.
“Death was the least bad thing,” he said. “We reached a place where death was easier than staying here for one minute.”
A member of the security forces for the new interim Syrian government stands next to prison cells at the Palestine Branch, a detention facility operated by the General Intelligence Agency during Bashar al-Assad's regime, in Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 14, 2024. (AP)
Assad’s system of repression grew as civil war raged
After he and his father were released, Zahra fled to opposition-held areas. Within a few months, security agents returned and dragged off 13 of his male relatives, including a younger brother and, again, his father.
All were killed. Zahra later recognized their bodies among photos leaked by a defector showing thousands killed in detention. Their bodies were never recovered.
Rights groups estimate at least 150,000 people went missing since anti-government protests began in 2011, most vanishing into detention facilities. Many were killed, either in mass executions or from torture and prison conditions. The exact number remains unknown.
Even before the uprising, Assad had ruled with an iron fist. But as protests turned into a civil war that would last 14 years, Assad expanded his system of repression. New detention facilities run by military, security and intelligence agencies sprung up in security compounds, military airports and under buildings.
At Branch 215, Zahra hoped to find some sign of his lost relatives. But there was nothing. At home, his aunt, Rajaa Zahra, looked at the leaked pictures of her killed children for the first time – something she had long refused to do. She lost four of her six sons in Assad’s crackdowns. Her brother, she said, lost two of his three sons.
“They were hoping to finish off all the young men of the country.”
A site believed to be a mass grave for detainees killed under Bashar al-Assad's rule is visible in Najha, south of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 17, 2024. (AP)
Syrians were tortured with ‘the tire’ and ‘magic carpet’
The tortures had names. One was called the “magic carpet,” where a detainee was strapped to a hinged wooden plank that bends in half, folding his head to his feet, which were then beaten.
Abdul-Karim Hajeko said he endured this five times. His torturers stomped on his back during interrogations at the Criminal Security branch, and his vertebrae are still broken.
“My screams would go to heaven. Once a doctor came down from the fourth floor (to the ground floor) because of my screams,” he said.
He was also put in “the tire.” His legs were bent inside a car tire as interrogators beat his back and feet. Afterward, they ordered him to kiss the tire and thank it for teaching him “how to behave.”
Many prisoners said the tire was inflicted for rule violations -- like making noise, raising one’s head in front of guards, or praying – or for no reason at all.
Saleh Turki Yahia said a cellmate died nearly every day during the seven months in 2012 he was held at the Palestine Branch, a detention facility run by the General Intelligence Agency. He said he was given electric shocks, hanged from his wrists, beaten on his feet. He lost half his body weight and nearly tore his own skin scratching from scabies.
“They broke us,” he said, breaking into tears as he visited the Palestine Branch. “A whole generation is destroyed.”
Documents are scattered around Branch 215, a detention facility run by Bashar al-Assad's regime, in Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 17, 2024. (AP)
The mounting evidence will be used in trials
Now comes the monumental task of accounting for the missing and compiling evidence that could one day be used to prosecute Assad’s officials, whether by Syrian or international courts.
Hundreds of thousands of documents remain scattered throughout detention facilities. Some seen by the AP included transcripts of phone conversations; intelligence files on activists; and a list of hundreds of prisoners killed in detention. At least 15 mass graves have been identified around Damascus and elsewhere around the country.
A UN body known as the International Impartial and Independent Mechanism has offered to help the new interim administration in collecting, organizing and analyzing all the material. Since 2011, it has been compiling evidence and supporting investigations in over 200 criminal cases against figures in Assad’s government.
Many want answers now.
Officials cannot just declare that the missing are presumed dead, said Wafaa Mustafa, a Syrian journalist, whose father was detained and killed 12 years ago.
“No one gets to tell the families what happened without evidence, without search, without work.”
