ISIS Women in Syria’s Al-Hol, Roj Camps: Uncertain Fates Ahead

One of the main streets in Al-Hol camp (Asharq Al-Awsat)
One of the main streets in Al-Hol camp (Asharq Al-Awsat)
TT

ISIS Women in Syria’s Al-Hol, Roj Camps: Uncertain Fates Ahead

One of the main streets in Al-Hol camp (Asharq Al-Awsat)
One of the main streets in Al-Hol camp (Asharq Al-Awsat)

Over the years, Al-Hol camp has grown into a bustling city of tents, home to nearly 43,000 people, mostly women and children from Iraq and Syria. Another section hosts families from 54 different Western and Arab countries.
Situated around 45 kilometers east of Al-Hasakah Governorate in Syria’s far northeast, Al-Hol’s population has surged from just a few hundred in 2016 to over 70,000 during the ISIS era.
About 136 kilometers away lies Roj camp, seeming similar to other refugee camps at first glance. But beyond its gates are high walls, surveillance cameras, and hundreds of tents housing jihadist women, fighters’ wives, and ISIS leaders.
While some women try to leave, others still hold onto beliefs that drew them to join the terror group, turning these camps into uncertain waiting grounds.
In the market of Al-Hol camp in eastern Syria, Iraqi and Syrian women shop for groceries, fruits, and even cosmetics. Some also get their phones fixed while vendors sell everything from dresses to Valentine’s Day gifts and perfumes, once banned under ISIS.
According to the UN refugee agency, the camp hosts 43,477 people, mostly Iraqi refugees followed by Syrian displaced persons, and around 6,500 foreign migrants, with women and children forming the majority.
Threats and Killings Persist in Al-Hol Camp
Al-Hol camp is run by the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) and their military branch, the Kurdish People’s Protection Units (YPG). Despite security efforts, violence continues, with attempted mass escapes being stopped by security.
The camp director reported receiving complaints of armed men threatening and robbing organizations operating at Al-Hol during the day.
The Iraqi government has brought back 1,400 families from Al-Hol camp in six groups by the end of 2023. However, many countries refuse to take back their citizens, even in humanitarian cases.
Women Search for Missing Husbands
“I've been in the camp for 6, 7, or maybe 10 years... Honestly, I can't remember. We're tired of waiting,” said Noran, a seventy-year-old Iraqi woman in Al-Hol camp. She, like many others, can’t recall when she arrived, living without much hope.
She came to Syria in mid-2016 when the borders dissolved due to the conflict. Now, she lives with her widowed daughter and granddaughter; her daughter’s husband died in battles in Deir ez-Zor.
Speaking to Asharq Al-Awsat, Noran expressed her readiness to return to Iraq if given the chance because she’s endured enough suffering.
Raghad Rasool, another Iraqi refugee in Al-Hol camp for six years, left her hometown in 2015, unsure of her husband and four brothers’ fate. They were captured after the Baghouz battle five years ago. Raghad longs to see them again.
Rassol sat selling parsley, onions, and mint in the market to support her family of five.
At 54, wrinkles marked her face as she lamented her situation.
“There’s no safety, life is tough, and we know nothing about the prisoners. But seeing my children without a future is the hardest,” she told Asharq Al-Awsat.
Many Iraqi refugee women share Raghad’s pain, not knowing what happened to their husbands or male family members held by coalition forces and the SDF.
Azhar, 32, dressed in black with only her eyes visible, spoke in a low voice to Asharq Al-Awsat, fearing surveillance.
“My husband has been missing for five years. I don't know if he's alive or dead. I have the right to know his fate, but I fear him being taken to Iraq and tried for belonging to the organization (ISIS),” she said.
Azhar, the Iraqi refugee, recounted moving between several Syrian cities to escape ISIS until they ended up in Baghouz.
After the men surrendered, the women and children were taken to Al-Hol camp.
All my family is here, including my parents and 30 relatives with my children, the oldest being 18 and the youngest 10,” she added.
Survivors Speak Out Amidst 150 Murders in Al-Hol Camp
In a guarded section of Al-Hol camp, security forces stand watch, restricting access to only those with written permission. Known as the “safe zone,” it shelters 25 families who escaped ISIS retaliation.
Lina, 23, a displaced Syrian from Al-Safira, shares her ordeal. Married off at 12 to a Tunisian fighter 33 years her senior, she reflects on her mother’s death in childbirth and her stepmother’s pressure to marry quickly.
Moving between ISIS-held areas, Lina settled in Baghouz, where her husband died, leaving her with two children who later succumbed to illness.
“Now I'm alone, hoping for a safer place,” she told Asharq Al-Awsat.
In Al-Hol, threats from pro-ISIS groups haunted Lina, culminating in an assassination attempt that forced her into the safe zone.
Al-Hol has seen over 150 murders, with 36 in 2023 alone.
Dima, 28, from Manbij, shares her fear: “Even in the safe zone, I fear for my life as night falls.”
Her husband, once an ISIS nurse, refused their orders, leading to an assassination attempt on Dima’s life. She’s now sheltered in the safe zone, hoping for safety.



Syria's Military Hospital Where Detainees Were Tortured, Not Treated

Torture survivor Mohammed Najib dreaded being taken by his jailers to a military hospital where he was beaten - AFP
Torture survivor Mohammed Najib dreaded being taken by his jailers to a military hospital where he was beaten - AFP
TT

Syria's Military Hospital Where Detainees Were Tortured, Not Treated

Torture survivor Mohammed Najib dreaded being taken by his jailers to a military hospital where he was beaten - AFP
Torture survivor Mohammed Najib dreaded being taken by his jailers to a military hospital where he was beaten - AFP

Former Syrian detainee Mohammed Najib has suffered for years from torture-induced back pain. Yet he dreaded being taken by his jailers to a military hospital, where he received beatings instead of treatment.

The prison guards forbade him from revealing his condition, only sending him to hospital for his likely tuberculosis symptoms -- widespread in the notorious Saydnaya prison where he was detained.

Doctors at Tishreen Hospital, the largest military health facility in Damascus, never inquired about the hunch on his back -- the result of sustained abuse.
Freed just hours after the fall of Bashar al-Assad, Najib has a tennis ball-sized bulge on his lower back.
The 31-year-old can barely walk, and the pain is unbearable.

But he insisted on showing AFP around a jail in the military hospital compound.

"I hated being brought here," Najib said as he returned with two friends who had shared the same cell with him after they were accused of ties to the armed rebellion that sought Assad's overthrow.

"They hit us all the time, and because I couldn't walk easily, they hit me" even more, he said, referring the guards.

Because he was never allowed to say he had anything more than the tuberculosis symptoms of "diarrhoea and fever", he never received proper treatment.

"I went back and forth for nothing," he said.

Assad fled Syria last month after opposition factions wrested city after city from his control until Damascus fell, ending his family's five-decade rule.

The Assads left behind a harrowing legacy of abuse at detention facilities that were sites of extrajudicial executions, torture and forced disappearances.

Hours after Assad fled, Syrian opposition broke into the notorious Saydnaya prison, freeing thousands, some there since the 1980s.

Since then, Tishreen Hospital has been out of service pending an investigation.

- 'Assisting torture' -

Human rights advocates say Syria's military hospitals, most notably Tishreen, have a record of neglect and ill-treatment.

"Some medical practitioners that were in some of these military hospitals (were) assisting... interrogations and torture, and maybe even withholding treatments to detainees," Hanny Megally of the UN Commission of Inquiry on Syria told AFP.

Former Saydnaya detainees told AFP about the ordeals they went through after they got sick.

It would begin with a routine examination by two of the jail's military doctors.

One of them used to beat prisoners, sometimes to death, four ex-detainees said.

Guards relentlessly beat them from the moment they were pulled from their cells to the hospital jail, then to its main building to meet the doctors, and finally escorted back to prison.

At the hospital's jail, those who were too ill were left to die or even killed, several former detainees said.

Three years ago, Najib and other inmates were tortured using the "tyre" method inside Saydnaya for merely talking to each other.

They were forced into vehicle tyres and beaten with their foreheads against their knees or ankles.

After a first check-up by a military doctor at Saydnaya, Najib was prescribed painkillers for his back pain.

The doctor eventually accepted to transfer him to Tishreen Hospital for tuberculosis symptoms.

Former prisoners said guards looking to minimize their workload would order them to say they suffered from "diarrhoea and fever" so they could transfer everyone to the same department.

- 'Clean him' -

When Omar al-Masri, 39, was taken to the hospital with a torture-induced leg injury, he too told a doctor he had an upset stomach and a fever.

While he was awaiting treatment, a guard ordered him to "clean" a very sick inmate.

Masri wiped the prisoner's face and body, yet when the guard returned, he angrily repeated the same order: "Clean him".

As Masri repeated the task, the sick prisoner soon took his last breath. An agitated Masri called out to the guard who gave him a chilling response: "Well done."

"That is when I learnt that by 'clean him', he meant 'kill him'," he said.

According to a 2023 report by the Association of Detainees and the Missing in Sednaya Prison, security forces at the hospital jail and even medical and administrative staff inflicted physical and psychological violence on detainees.

A civilian doctor told AFP she and other medical staff at Tishreen were under strict orders to keep conversations with prisoners to a minimum.

"We weren't allowed to ask what the prisoner's name was or learn anything about them," she said, requesting anonymity for fear of reprisals.

She said that despite reports about ill treatment at the hospital, she had not witnessed it herself.

But even if a doctor was courageous enough to ask about a prisoner's name, the scared detainee would only give the number assigned to him by the guards.

"They weren't allowed to speak," she said.

After a beating in his Saydnaya cell, Osama Abdul Latif's ribs were broken, but the prison doctors only transferred him to the hospital four months later with a large protrusion on his side.

Abdul Latif and other detainees had to stack the bodies of three fellow inmates into the transfer vehicle and unloaded them at Tishreen hospital.

"I was jailed for five years," Abdul Latif said.

But "250 years wouldn't be enough to talk about all the suffering" he endured.