Syrian General Security personnel iin the Jaramana neighborhood in Damascus, May 2, 2025 (Rizik Alabi/The Media Line)
Writing for New Lines magazine, Omar Al Ghadban describes the instability and fear from sectarian violence for those who return to Syria’s liberated capital Damascus.
He concludes:
This latest experience also compels me to share a message, particularly with my fellow U.N. colleagues working on Syrian matters, and anyone in my network involved in discussions about the country’s future: Syria is not safe for the return of refugees who fled Assad’s brutality. Many fear the violence of extremists who still operate as the country’s new interim government is trying to bring them to heel. My recent experience is just one snapshot of this. Syrians have already persevered through much worse, and I am hopeful that we will persevere still until we achieve the peace and normalcy that humans everywhere deserve. But until then, I am no longer willing to risk life or limb to visit my homeland. No Syrian should be forced to do so.
I feel I should share this. Bear with me if it sounds hard to believe or like a story out of a movie; it is not. It is another story from the daily lives of many Syrians, whether they live back home or in exile.
This account details my most recent visit to Syria in April 2025. Since leaving my hometown of Al Raha in southeastern Syria in 2023 for a position in Lebanon, I occasionally return to Syria, drawn back by the pull of family and friends. I work as an international staff member with the United Nations World Food Programme, stationed in Lebanon. This particular trip was planned during my “rest and recuperation” leave — a period designated for recharging. But for me, it was primarily a chance to reconnect with loved ones left behind in our beloved country, struggling to rise to its feet after a crippling war and decades of dictatorship.
I traveled with my wife, Nawara, and our daughter, Alia, who is just 2 years old. We brought her with us because her grandparents and extended family deeply missed her, and we were also longing to reunite as a family with our loved ones back home. Many friends reassured us that things had been relatively calm in recent weeks, and that we would be safe bringing our baby. In retrospect, even before we arrived, the fragility of the situation in Syria was profound, a tension underscored by the harrowing events that unfolded during our stay. Syria, even after the significant political shifts following the fall of the Assad regime in December 2024, remains a landscape scarred by conflict and uncertainty. The new government seems committed to achieving stability, but the challenges are numerous. Armed factions, many with a jihadist mindset, remain.
On the night of April 28, and into the early hours of the next day, we sought some normalcy when we joined friends at a farm located near Mleiha, at the entrance of Jaramana in rural Damascus. Jaramana, a suburb southeast of the capital, is predominantly home to the Druze religious minority. Since the regime change, this area, like many others, has seen significant changes. Local residents, wary after years of conflict and feeling vulnerable in the new power vacuum, have established their own checkpoints to guard the area’s entrances.
The evening began peacefully. The weather was slightly chilly but pleasant, a welcome respite. The farm, owned by my friend Firas, spans several acres. One entrance sits near a checkpoint manned by Jaramana local groups, and the other sits on the main road leading toward neighboring Mleiha. We were a small group: myself, Nawara, Alia, four friends and our colleague’s dog, Joy. Alia, bless her, fell asleep around 9 p.m., her usual bedtime, leaving the adults to enjoy a quiet evening.
The tranquillity was shattered around 2 a.m. An agitated phone call came through: It was our friend’s father, his voice tight with urgency. “Leave immediately,” he urged. “Tension is high. Calls are circulating to attack Jaramana.” His words punctured the evening’s peace, foretelling violence that perhaps wasn’t entirely unexpected. Days earlier, sectarian tensions had flared after a controversial audio recording circulated online. The recording, featuring a male voice delivering insults to the Prophet Muhammad, was falsely attributed to a local Druze cleric, Sheikh Marwan Kiwan, who later publicly denied any involvement, calling it a fabrication designed to provoke conflict. Despite his denial and investigations by the new government confirming the recording was not his, the damage was done. Extremists began issuing calls for retribution, leading to attacks on Druze individuals, including students in both Homs and Damascus, and escalating the already unstable situation in Jaramana.
