Anti-Assad Syrians lead protests against prison torture by rebel group

 

 'Despite the dangers of dissent, people in northwestern Syria have been taking to the streets in recent weeks to protest an armed group formed out of an al-Qaeda breakaway faction.

 The protests against Hay’et Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), which controls a large portion of Idlib province, began on February 25 in Sarmada, near the Syria-Turkey border.

 Prompted by the treatment of prisoners by the group’s security arm, the General Security Service (GSS), protesters carry banners calling HTS prisons “slaughterhouses”. Protests with hundreds of participants have now taken place across Idlib.

 In Binnish, 29-year-old Mohammed Ali Basha spent the night before an anti-HTS protest last week preparing flags and banners with his friends.

 The activist painted three red stars on the green, white and black backdrop of the Syrian opposition’s flag. A large banner being prepared displays the message Basha and his fellow protesters want to put across: that the Syrian revolution – which began in 2011 – is not just against the country’s President Bashar al-Assad, but against all “tyrants”.

 “All of them means all of them,” it says, a slogan long adopted by members of the Syrian opposition to indicate their opposition to autocrats of all persuasions. And for Basha, that includes HTS and its leader, Abu Mohamad al-Jolani.

 “Our protests against HTS resemble our early demonstrations against Bashar al-Assad and his régime because in both cases we have taken to the streets to denounce injustice and preserve our dignity and freedom,” Basha said. “Over the past few years, I have noticed the injustice practised against the people of the liberated areas [not controlled by al-Assad], and how the security branches affiliated with HTS have begun to commit the same criminal acts committed by al-Assad’s security forces, such as killing under torture and arbitrary detention.”



 Ahmad Alhakim said he knows all too well what can happen in an HTS prison. His brother, Abdulqadir, was tortured to death in one, he said.

 Abdulqadir, 27, a father of three and a fighter in the Jaish al-Ahrar opposition group, was arrested by HTS last year on charges of dealing with foreign powers.

 “They abducted my brother for 10 months without us being able to know his whereabouts, any information about him, or even appoint a lawyer to pursue his case,” Alhakim said.

 In mid-February, Alhakim was told by a released detainee that Abdulqadir had died after being tortured in prison. His death was confirmed to Jaish al-Ahrar by HTS on February 22.

 “We demanded that the General Security Service hand over my brother’s body, but they told us that they buried him and gave us the address of the burial place,” Alhakim said, describing it as a large trench where many bodies were buried – a mass grave. “There were many graves without names, only numbered.”



 It was Abdulqadir’s death that sparked the protest movement, which quickly spread to Idlib’s main towns.

 In Binnish the next day, Basha and his fellow activists took their banners and flags and headed to the town centre to join the few dozen people who had gathered.

 Much of the anger was directed towards the HTS leader al-Jolani, with protesters calling for his removal in areas controlled by HTS and its affiliated Salvation Government, and its replacement by an elected body.

 “The era of slavery and tyranny ended with the start of the Syrian revolution in 2011, and the Syrian people, after paying dearly to gain their freedom and dignity, will not allow it to be taken away from them,” Basha said.

 It is a brave stance to take. Idlib province largely remains under the control of Syrian opposition fighters, dominated by HTS after it gradually forced out other opposition factions and monopolised governance of the region.

 HTS – designated a “terrorist” group by the European Union, Turkey and the United States – formed in 2017 as an alliance of several factions opposed to al-Assad in the country’s ongoing war. The principal force in the alliance was Jabhat Fateh al-Sham, formerly an affiliate of al-Qaeda known as the Nusra Front.

 HTS has attempted to rebrand itself over the years, severing ties with al-Qaeda and portraying itself as a more moderate group with local aims, with al-Jolani even going as far as to give an interview to US media outlet PBS.

 It became the most powerful rebel group in northwestern Syria but opposition to its rule is increasing, with activists deeming it vital to break the silence over the group’s violence and grip on security.

 At an event in Idlib city, 30-year-old activist Abdulrahman, who did not wish to give his full name, reiterated the movement’s demands.

 “We want the release of all prisoners of conscience, the disclosure of the fate of those missing in the prisons, and dissolving and restructuring the General Security Service,” he said.

 As an initial response to the protests, HTS held meetings – chaired by al-Jolani – between ministers in the Salvation Government and community elites and village elders who presented the protesters’ demands and received promises to fulfil them.

 “The protests … in the streets against Hay’et Tahrir al-Sham and the Salvation Government are natural and we do not view them in any other context,” said the HTS media office. “We’re confident that those who work make mistakes and all protests aim to correct these mistakes that have recently transpired.”

 HTS said the protesters’ demands were complex and resolving them would require some time. For example, it said, wider participation in the group’s leadership Shura Council would take time to recruit community representatives from different areas.

 Anti-HTS protests have continued in Idlib despite these attempted assurances. However, as of yet, there have been no confirmed reports of protesters being detained by HTS.



 On July 16 of last year, the GSS announced that it had dismantled a spy cell working for Russia, the Syrian government and the US, leading to the arrest of several security personnel and leaders within its ranks, notably Abu Maria al-Qahtani – a Shura Council member considered al-Jolani’s number two.

 He was acquitted and released earlier this month along with other security personnel, although it is unclear whether he continues to hold a leadership role.

 “The popular movement today in Idlib is partly due to internal disagreements within Hay’et Tahrir al-Sham, meaning that conflicting parties within the organisation incite their supporters to participate in these protests,” Wael Alwan, a Syrian affairs specialist at the Jusoor Center for Studies, said.

 “The second part of the movement consists of people who are taking advantage of the opportunity, whether they are social extensions of previous factions that the organisation has targeted, or they are people who have been greatly affected by the General Security Service and the organisation’s security grip,” Alwan said.

 Alwan said that HTS has to placate the popular movement by accommodating its demands as well as making and implementing promises, because putting the protests down by force is not an option, as that would only escalate protests and opposition.

 “Perhaps HTS is betting on reconsolidating itself and regaining its centrality and its ability to solve internal problems, and then it may consider returning to … harsh security,” Alwan said.

 But ultimately, for activists organising against HTS, their protests are a risk. The group is not known for its tolerance towards dissent, and many fear that it will eventually crack down on the demonstrations.

 For Basha, that is still not enough to deter him.

 “Since I joined the first protest against HTS, I knew that I might be arrested or even killed, but when I saw that the number of protesters was increasing with each passing day, nothing frightened me anymore,” he said.

 “My family are the ones who encourage me to always defend the truth and not remain silent against injustice committed by any party – no matter the cost.” '

As the revolution in Syria enters its 14th year, free Syrians are waiting for the spark to reignite

 

 

    Dr Amira Abo el-Fetouh:

 'The Syrian revolution has just entered its fourteenth year. The Arab Spring revolutions swept across the Arab world and broke out in Syria on 15 March, 2011. Had it not been for Russia’s intervention, the Syrian dictator Bashar Al-Assad would have been overthrown. He preferred Syria to fall into the clutches of the Russian occupation than for himself to join the tyrants Hosni Mubarak, Muammar Gaddafi and Ali Abdullah Saleh in Egypt, Libya and Yemen respectively.

 Assad was not the only regional dictator fearing for his position; all the Arab kings and princes trembled with him. They all feared that the demand for freedom, dignity and democracy would inspire their own people, and they too would be overthrown. Some of them have now allied themselves with the Zionist enemy. The occupation state of Israel was also disturbed by the revolutions in neighbouring states, whose rulers guarded its borders. That is why the UAE became the epicentre of the counter-revolutions against the Arab Spring. The hope-filled Spring turned into violent autumn, especially in Syria, Libya and Yemen, terrorising protesters and those even thinking about demands for freedom, dignity and democracy.

 Saudi Arabia and the UAE stood against the will of the people and supported the tyrannical rulers, even in Syria, which has witnessed the greatest Arab revolution ever. Never in history has a nation made the sacrifices that the Syrian people have made when everyone teamed up against them. The hyenas of the world mauled Syria’s wounded body, cut off what they could for themselves, and fled with their spoils, leaving Syria drowning in its people’s blood.

 The Syrian revolution was abandoned by those who called themselves “friends of Syria” but instead took their share of the spoils. The Syrians should have stuck by their initial claim: “We have no one but you, O Allah” and not hand themselves over to countries that claimed to support them and supported them with money and weapons until it was clear that they were prisoners of their own fortune and forced to carry out their “friends’” orders. Such countries betrayed Syria and stopped their support, giving priority to regional interests.



 I have said since the beginning of the Arab Spring that the problem of the Arab revolutions was the lack of credible Arab leadership possessing the means and characteristics that would allow it to rally the masses in managing the revolutions, ensuring their success and creating a new, fairer governance system. These revolutions had no legitimate father figure, so everyone claimed that they were that person, leading to damaging infighting.

 The Syrian revolution began in Daraa in south-west Syria, when a number of boys wrote revolutionary slogans, heard when being chanted elsewhere, on the walls of their schools. The Assad régime went crazy; its security forces attacked Daraa and arrested the boys, all of whom were under 13 years old, and tortured them. They were electrocuted and beaten with electric cables; their fingers were cut off, as were their genitals to break their spirit of manhood and strength. The régime forgot that maleness and masculinity are two different things. Fourteen years after being exiled from Daraa, those boys are strong men defending Idlib, the only liberated area of Syrian land, against the oppression of the régime and the Russian occupation.

 When the boys’ families went to the security services to ask about their children, they were insulted, humiliated and thrown out. “Forget about them and have other children,” they were told, “and if you’re unable to, the security will take over the task.”



 The parents were shocked by this response, so they demonstrated against the security forces, and were joined by hundreds of people. Then thousands. The régime responded with live fire, killing dozens. Daraa rose up en masse against the Assad régime, demanding its overthrow. The régime responded to this by besieging the city, but people from neighbouring towns and villages broke the siege.

 Hundreds were arrested, including Hamza Al-Khatib, 13. His body was eventually handed over to his family, and it had clear evidence of torture and the bullets he had been shot with. His neck was broken, and his body was mutilated, with his genitals cut off. Photographs were circulated on the Internet and shocked millions of Syrians. Many took to the streets in massive demonstrations, in solidarity with this child who was betrayed. The demonstrations spread from the capital, Damascus, to Aleppo, Homs, Hama and other Syrian cities. Hamza Al-Khatib became the icon of the Syrian revolution that toppled statues of the murderer Bashar Al-Assad and his father. The people tore up their pictures, trampled on them and burned them.

 The security forces were unable to disperse the demonstrations despite firing volley after volley of bullets at the crowds. That’s when the army went in with its tanks and armoured vehicles. Thousands of martyrs fell. The initially peaceful protests turned into an armed revolution to defend the people of Syria.



 The régime “planted” weapons in front of homes, on the streets, and in cafes to incriminate people, and they released convicted Islamists from prison in order to transform the nature of the revolution. Suddenly, the uprising turned into a “war on terrorism”; those leading the demonstrations were described as “terrorists”; and countries stood in sympathy with the murderous Assad régime.

 Nothing grabs the attention and support of the West than the dog-whistle allegation of “terrorism”. The régime initially sought help from Hezbollah militias and some Shia militias in Iraq and Afghanistan in its war against its own people. When that wasn’t enough, the Quds Force of Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps, led by Qasem Soleimani, entered Syria and burned and destroyed entire villages, killed thousands of Syrians, and displaced thousands of Sunni Muslims. Soleimani basically turned the revolution into a Sunni-Shia war, but was unable to suppress it. It was the Russian intervention that turned the tide in Assad’s favour, with its aircraft and missiles implementing a scorched earth policy that it had used in Chechnya. The régime used chemical weapons against the Syrian people and dropped barrel bombs on their heads.

 Eventually, the liberated cities began to fall one after another. The régime which had once controlled just 20 per cent of Syria now controlled about 80 per cent. The revolution was confined to Idlib, and revolutionaries from other cities flocked there after international interventions, understandings and agreements between Russia and Turkiye. However, Idlib has not yet been spared from the crimes of Bashar’s militias and the ongoing Russian raids despite such agreements.

 More than two million Syrians have been martyred, and 10 million have been displaced, many from their homeland altogether.

 The Syrian revolution exposed the treachery and betrayal of those closest to it, but the story is not complete; no ending has been written yet. Revolutions, like wars, have many twists and turns until the decisive hour strikes and the curtain falls. Do not be deceived by the butcher Assad remaining president. The flame of the revolution is burning in the conscience of every free Syrian, waiting for the moment for it to reignite on the ground.'

‘Authorities fear us’: Syrian women activists vow to continue revolting no matter the consequences

 ' “We’ve broken the barrier of fear… we’re not afraid anymore,” Syrian women activists say, as they reflect on the past 13 years of ongoing oppression in their homeland.

 Since 15 March 2011, Syrians have been living under the brutal bombardment of the Assad régime, which cracked down on peaceful pro-democracy protestors and continues to threaten those who dare to stand against it.

 The war has resulted in the displacement of over 13 million Syrians, the detention of tens of thousands of civilians, and over 500,000 deaths, the majority of which are at the hands of the Syrian régime and its Russian ally.



 Despite the immense losses suffered, women across the country have courageously assumed the roles of changemakers, advocates and leaders, as they work to rebuild their communities, advocate for peace and demand freedom for their people.

 “A lot of women have assumed positions of responsibility. Today, I don’t just carry the weight of my own responsibilities, I make important decisions and bear their consequences,” Zahra, an activist, teacher and social worker from Raqqa, said.

 During the war, the teacher felt called to create an empowering safe space and support system for women, following traumatic experiences they had endured during the ongoing war.

 So, she co-founded For Feminism, an organisation based in her hometown Raqqa, dedicated to supporting women and enhancing their skills, to enable them to contribute to their communities, “feel their value” and “believe they can make a difference.”

 “We’d hold sessions for women to share and let their feelings out. We aimed to talk about all women’s issues, including laws, our protection, and rights.”



 Zahra faced “difficult decisions” when deciding which responsibilities to assume. ISIS took over her hometown Raqqa from 2013 to 2017, and some women from the city married extremist fighters during the time, “due to difficult life circumstances”, as “many were forced against their will,” Zahra said.

 Upon their release from ISIS-controlled camps – which they left without their missing, or deceased, husbands – Zahra knew that the “vulnerable” women would “no longer be accepted by society.”

 She decided to extend her work to them, by hosting wellbeing sessions for psychological support, despite knowing many within her community would reject such an idea.

 “It was a difficult decision, of course, society didn’t accept ISIS and wouldn’t accept [the women who married them]… but women have been the largest victims of oppression during the war… and desperately need help… including those who made big mistakes,” she said.



 ISIS also banned education during their rule over Raqqa, so on top of the already heavy burden of war, Zahra was challenged with the task of home-schooling her children, which she bore the fruits of years later when her daughter entered medical school.

 Zahra’s commitment to activism and social work – which she also practised by teaching in UNICEF schools post ISIS’ domination of Raqqa – has also been mirrored by women alike across the country.



 “The presence of women in activism is very important. A woman conveys voices. She is a mother, a sister, a wife, the family, she is the society to me,” Lubna, an activist from Suweida, said.

 Lubna is deeply involved in local revolutionary activities, as she works alongside activist groups created for women, such as Sayedat Al-Hirak, and mixed activist groups, including Shabab Soriya Al-Ahrar.

 She, too, emphasised that “women have had a huge part to play in protests and activism”, but highlighted that this has not come without its struggles.

 “The Syrian woman has gone through a lot. She suffered oppression from the régime, and from society. The worst types of torture and insults were thrown on women in prisons,” she said.

 “The régime knows the importance of women’s involvement in the revolution, and as a result, they have tried to silence society through women,” Lubna stated.

 The activist says that the forces have weaponised both societal fears surrounding the protection of women and notions of “shame”, playing on conservative attitudes present in the country, in a bid to stop women from protesting.

 Societal fears come from knowing women could be “vulgarly insulted” or even sexually assaulted in prisons if they were arrested following their activism.

 Such instances could result in the woman affected becoming stigmatised by society, where it is highly probable “people would look at her with pity, or that her life would be considered over”, Lubna said.

 As a result, women have often been advised to, or felt that they should, refrain from participating in the revolution “to avoid bringing harm to themselves, or shame to their family”.



 Destigmatising such cases has also been employed within art activism across the country and among the Syrian diaspora.

 Damascene artist Dima Nashawi, who left Syria to live in Lebanon in 2013, utilised her creative talents to illustrate Syrian struggles, “preserve parts of our narrative, and pursue our dream of changing the country”.

 The artist, who also worked in social care with the UNHCR, has created illustrations calling “for the freedom of detainees, the destigmatisation of female detainees” and has written plays focusing on displacement.

 “It became an urgent need to express my feelings in light of the difficult events in my country… and to stand up to narratives that stereotyped the Syrian revolution,” Dima said.

 “Women were targeted, raped, stigmatised, ostracised, killed… female detainees have been rejected by their circles because of stigmas surrounding honour,” she added.



 The artist highlighted the case of Heba Haj Aref – an activist who was found dead in her home in rural Aleppo last month after receiving threats over her work – as just one example of countless violations against Syrian women who are simply demanding freedom.

 “Authorities are afraid of brave women who confront them… they are afraid of her strength, and her ability to create change, so they threaten her or simply kill her,” she says.

 Dima believes the traumatic experiences endured by Syrian women have “caused a shift, redefined women’s personalities and led many to become inspiring influential voices in defending women’s and human rights” within Syria and across the diaspora.



 Despite the pain and trauma Syrian women have patiently endured, many remain set on continuing their fight for freedom and peace, regardless of the consequences, due to their firm belief that their cause will see victory.

 “People might think we’re seeing dreams, but revolutions have always seen pain… continued fight will be what allows us to win, we will continue peacefully for the sake of our peace,” Lubna said with clear confidence and certainty.

 “The amount of time it takes is not important,” she added, emphasising “our cause is a cause of truth and it’s right”.

 “Those who are righteous may face oppression, being killed, being displaced, they may face a lot of pain, but they are the standing on the right side. They aren’t afraid… and for that, they will be victorious.” '

Thirteen Years Later, Syrian War Still Rages

 

 'For families on the frontline, the end is nowhere in sight.

 "The bombing is always ongoing; every hour, every minute, all the time, " says Khaledia Sakahi, a displaced woman. "If it is not on our village, the bombing will be near it. The villages around us are also being bombed.I can't count them all. But the bombing continues, morning and night, and death, as I told you, many people die."

 In Idlib, emergency workers say the death toll in their region is rising.

 "The statistics for the year 2023 were more than 1230 attacks, with more than 170 killed and 300 injured," says Yassin Khader of the Syrian Civil Defence. "In the last half of 2023, there was an intense and continuous attack on the southern areas."

Commanders of rebels who control Idlib say, they are not just planning to defend the area they currently control. "We did not set out to establish a state in Idlib," says Muhammad al-Bakour, a field commander for Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, "and the revolution continues until Assad is held accountable. There is no revolutionary project that stops at Idlib."

 Today, nearly 17 million people in Syria need aid. The most since the war began. Violence, and a lack of basic services like water or electricity, are forcing people to flee their homes again and again.

'As for the rest, such as services, there is nothing available at all," says Khaledia Sakahi. "Everyone is self-reliant. Some people collect firewood, and others do other things, just to survive."

 She says she believes the Syrian war may continue indefinitely, and there is very little hope access to aid will improve.'

 

From Syria to NI: ‘I haven’t seen my son in 13 years... he will be killed if we aren’t reunited’

 

 'Ali’s cat Rocky slinks along the windowsill. Behind him, the window looks out onto a quiet, residential street. Storm Jocelyn’s approach is just starting to move the bushes in the garden.

 He hands me his phone to look at a photograph. A young couple. Three smiling children. The man in the picture is his son Zayan.

 Ali (55) hasn’t seen his son in almost 13 years, and that wait could become interminable soon.

 Both names are pseudonyms, chosen to protect their safety; they are still fearful of reprisals in the Middle East.

  Zayan (29) is facing deportation from Lebanon – where he and his family currently live – back to their native Syria after he was given 28 days’ notice to leave. He has less than three weeks left.

 Thousands of miles away in Northern Ireland, his father is a world away from the horror that began to unfold in his home city of Homs in 2011.



 Inspired by the so-called Arab Spring risings that swept across Middle East, Syrian youths in Daraa scrawled graffiti criticising Bashar al-Assad’s régime on the wall.

 They were arrested, held and tortured, prompting a wave of protest that drew a military backlash.

 "Everything was normal until the revolution started,” Ali said.

 "It was like an earthquake. People got mad, got crazy. I always think that violence affected these people and turned them into monsters, or devils. There was an army checkpoint close to my home. There were clashes and bombing from evening until morning. I moved my family to the town where my wife’s family were, because around my home began to get very dangerous.”

 By 2012, opposition groups had formed rebel brigades to seize cities in the north.

 Lebanon’s Hezbollah would openly deploy fighters in 2013 to supress the uprising, while Iran dispatched military advisors to prop up the al-Assad government.

 As the situation worsened, Ali sent his family to Lebanon, promising he would follow soon, but he would not see his family for another four years.



 Militias surrounded the town and laid siege to it, with only sporadic United Nations aid being allowed in.

 "I never thought I would live the way we lived. Groups of armed people started to defend their families,” said Ali.

 "Every town, guys started to carry guns to defend themselves and their families because they knew that when the régime entered the town, they would rape, steal and kill.

 "People would rather die than face the torturing. You saw pictures of people in prison without eyes, without nails."



 Ali said the cries of hunger from sick, traumatised children continue to haunt him to this day. "We had little food, no medicine. There were 120,000 people in the town. Every few months the UN was entering with some cars of food, but there wasn’t enough,” he said.

 "I did not think I would survive the bombing at night. The shooting, the snipers. The planes. Barrel bombings. For four years, I always felt hungry. I will never forget the weeping of the children and the kids because of the fear and hunger. I still hear them now when I am alone. I can hear their voices and their weeping from the hunger. There are pictures stuck in my mind. A child of six or seven years old licking a photograph of a pizza on a wall. The restaurant was closed, but because of the hunger he was licking this picture. Children were knocking my door and saying they were hungry."



 After four years, the siege was eventually lifted after negotiations between the UN, the al-Assad régime and representatives of the town.

 Ali boarded a UN convoy bound for Idlib, close to the border with Turkey, which he crossed safely two days later. His thoughts turned immediately to his family, but it would be a further three years of agony until he laid eyes on them again.

 Ali struggled to bring his family to Turkey with him, eventually finding some success through the UN and ultimately, the UK Government.

 A third country resettlement was agreed; that country was Northern Ireland. Ali remembers the date clearly.



 "We arrived here on February 7 2019. I left Turkey that morning and my wife and children came after me about two hours later,” he said.

 "I met them at the airport; it was like a dream. When I saw them, I realised then that the most beautiful moments in my life had been lost. I didn’t see my children grow up. My wife was very sick and my other son (Zayan) could not come.”

 That moment is now five years ago.

 Unaware of a new law preventing Syrians from working Lebanon, Zayan was working in a clothing shop, still trying to raise money to support his young family.

 His papers were seized, leaving his future in limbo. The documents were later returned, but along with a 28-day notice to leave Lebanon.



 Ali said the news was akin to a death sentence.

 "I am sure that if the government send them back, the régime will kill them. Most of my family is in opposition [to Assad],” he said.

 "I can’t explain how scared we are. My wife and I are always crying. When anyone from the family sends a message on WhatsApp and it is not received, it is a terrible feeling.

 "We are always worried until he replies on the message. His daughter is seven years old now. When he goes out to buy food she hugs him tight and says: ‘Please father, don’t go anywhere, I am afraid’.



 "Many times I have prayed to God to take me. I can’t stand any more. I just want to see my son and his family in a safe place.” Zayan has completed an initial resettlement interview with the UN, who are aware he has family in the UK.

 Ali is praying he will be called for a second interview before time runs out on his time in Lebanon.

 He wants nothing more than to see the family united in Northern Ireland, somewhere he now calls home.

 "Here, no one calls my son a refugee. Here, they don’t believe we are strangers or unwanted people at all. Here, my family don’t sleep in parks because they haven’t money. Here, my family didn’t go hungry,” he said.

 "Everything I wanted – to see my wife and children happy – is here. The only thing I need now is to see my son before I die, or before my wife dies.'

'We were attacked by missiles, by bombs, simply because we were treating casualties'

 

 ' “Imagine yourself operating on a patient when you are being attacked by barrel bombs and missiles. Your hands are shaking, the hospital is shaking, soil could go in the patient’s wounds while you are operating and then you have to wait a while until the strike stops and carry on.”

 These days, Dr Ayman Alshiekh, 38, is a surgeon in an immaculate, state-of-the-art hospital in Manchester city centre. But only a few years ago, the doctor was facing the unthinkable – trying to save lives in a bloody field hospital in Syria, being hunted by a brutal régime.



 Ayman spent his childhood in his beloved home country of Syria, one of the world’s most ancient centres of culture. Attending primary school, he dreamed of becoming a doctor, understanding from the beginning that he was called to come to the aid of those in need.

 From his primary school days, he excelled in sciences, working hard to get the grades to pursue an education in medicine. Ayman graduated from the University of Aleppo in 2010 and started his training in vascular surgery in Damascus.



 But by 2011, Syria was not a peaceful place to call home anymore. Protests began in March of that year, amid shoots of hope that the country’s authoritarian ruler Bashar al-Assad might be overthrown.

 Ayman was among the young people taking part in what has since become known as the Arab Spring, where protests for a move to democracy spread across the region to the likes of Libya, Egypt, Yemen and Bahrain. But the dictator responded with a campaign of violence and terror against those pleading for a fairer world.

 In the middle of his third year of training, Ayman was forced to abandon his studies. Ayman suddenly found himself at the heart of a revolution and began work as a war surgeon in a field hospital.

 “Our hospitals were always a magnet for attacks. We were attacked by missiles, by bombs, simply because we were treating casualties,” he said.



 “That was considered a crime by the régime. Due to the siege, no medical supplies could get into Aleppo. We had to make do with what we had. When you are a war surgeon in Aleppo, the most important thing is saving lives. Everything else comes second.”

 Ayman pledged that he would use his medical training to help those being hunted by the Syrian government, who were having to go underground for daring to question the régime. Many of them suffered horrific injuries amid brutal reprisals after protesting the government, leading to the creation of secret, makeshift hospitals.

 Despite his lifesaving work, the régime then turned on Ayman. He says: "I was one of the protesters as well, but I actually didn't expect that the government would start shooting at us, firing directly at our chests, towards us.

 I felt that it was my duty to help these demonstrators because they couldn't go to the government hospitals. They would be arrested - and maybe killed - even in hospital, because the government does not respect a hospital as a special place where people should be treated irrespective of political opinions. In Syria, the government attacked them, killed them, tortured them, arrested them. Many of my colleagues and fellow students started to treat patients in underground hospitals, hidden from the security forces of the Assad régime.

 Because of that, some of my colleagues were arrested. Under torture, unfortunately, they named us. Then I became a wanted person for the régime because I was just treating those demonstrators and protesters. I was doing my job.”

 Ayman often felt helpless as he watched people arrive at hospital, unable to be saved. He could do nothing but stand by as ‘security forces came to the hospital and arrested them while they were bleeding’.

 “We finished one man’s operation, and security forces were standing in front of the theatre room,” said the doctor.

 “When we wanted to take him to the ICU after five hours of operation, they took his trolley and then took him away. Where? We don't know. We needed to help keep them away from the eyes of the security forces because it's our duty to care for our people and our patients irrespective of political opinions. When you save others you don't care about your life sometimes, because it's our duty to rescue all people who need us.”



 Aleppo was known around the world for its beautiful heritage sites, which have been razed to the ground in the turmoil of a devastating civil war of attrition. The years wore on and Ayman found joy in a life cursed by conflict on his doorstep – marriage and a family - but that brought new fears.

 “In the first two or three years of the revolution, I didn’t have a family. I put myself more at risk because I was by myself,” Ayman said.

 “In 2015, I had my son, so then I had responsibilities for my family. I stayed in Aleppo and we were under siege by the Syrian military forces, Russian forces and Iranian forces.

 We stayed under siege for almost six months, with daily bombardment from bombs, air strikes, rockets, and no access to any drugs, medication, food at all.

 After that, we were forcibly displaced out of Aleppo. I went to Idlib, another province in Syria, and I worked there in another hospital for almost an additional year.”

 Around 15 months later, he had a daughter. “I started to feel that I couldn’t sacrifice myself, I had a wife and two kids. The Assad gang, with the help of Russian and Iranian forces, were taking areas and I was scared to be under siege again now that I had a family.”



 The doctor managed to get his family asylum in Turkey – while he stayed behind in Syria continuing to save lives.

 “When the barrel bombs started to fall over us in 2014, I was already working in a field hospital and I couldn't concentrate on treating people because I was always thinking about my family. When I moved them to Turkey, I could at least concentrate on my job,” said Ayman.

 After years on the frontline, Ayman faced his options – stay in Syria and be killed by an airstrike on his hospital, or be killed by the régime for helping the opposition. He was forced to flee and, unable to apply for a visa and wait for the result under the constant threat of death, Ayman attempted the dangerous journey as a refugee across Europe.

 Aiming for the UK as a safe haven, he knew the journey would be treacherous, but there were too many stories of refugees being caught and ‘assassinated’ by Syrian authorities on the continent to stay in mainland Europe. Ayman struggled to speak about this part of his story. It’s just too traumatic, he says.

 He arrived at the end of 2018 ‘in the back of a lorry’ with little money and very few possessions.

 “I faced even more danger than I had in Syria, the journey was difficult. I claimed asylum. Six months later, I was granted refugee status, thankfully,” said Ayman.



 After an incredible, terrifying life in Syria and journey to the UK, in his mid-30s, Ayman settled in Manchester. One day in the future, Ayman hopes to return to his homeland. He said: “I want to help my people there and help rebuild our health system from everything I have learned here.” '