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Syria civil war: The untold story of the siege of two small Shia villages - and how the world turned a blind eye

Villages that remained loyal to the Syrian regime have paid a steep price

 

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Syrian rebels attack the headquarters of Assad's regime forces in the villages of Nubul and al-Zahraa in Aleppo, Syria Getty

This is the untold story of the three-and-a-half-year siege of two small Shia Muslim villages in northern Syria. Although their recapture by the Syrian army – and by Iranian Revolutionary Guards and Iraqi Shia militias – caught headlines for a few hours three weeks ago, the world paid no heed to the suffering of these people, their 1,000 “martyrs”, at least half of them civilians, and the 100 children who died of shellfire and starvation. 

 

For these were villages that remained loyal to the Syrian regime and paid the price – and were thus unworthy of our attention, which remained largely fixed on those civilians suffering under siege by government forces elsewhere. 

Nubl and Zahra should be an 18-minute drive off the motorway north-east of Aleppo but the war’s front lines in the sharp-winded north of Syria have cut so deeply into the landscape that to avoid the men of the Jabhat al-Nusra and Isis, you have to drive for two hours along fields and broken country roads and through villages smashed and groined by the Syrian offensive. 

 

Syrian and Iranian flags now hang from telegraph poles outside the damaged village mosques, a powerful symbol of an alliance that brought these people’s years of pain to an end. Among them were at least 100 Sunni Muslim families – perhaps 500 souls – who, way back in 2012 chose to take refuge with their Shia countrymen rather than live under the rules of the Islamists. 

The police commander, Rakan Wanous, kept meticulous records of the siege and deaths in Nubl and Zahra and recorded, with obviously bitter memories, the threatening phone calls he took from the Nusra forces surrounding his two villages. Wanous was also officially in charge of many other towns that had fallen to Nusra. Yes, he said bleakly, the calls came from the neighbouring Sunni village of Mayer. “Once, they told me they were going to come and slaughter us – and slaughter me – and I told them: ‘Well, let’s wait until you get here and see.’ On another occasion, they threatened to shower us with chemical weapons.” 

 

 

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Syrian volunteers aged 50 to 70 in the northern towns of Nubl and Zahra are fighting against forces opposing the Syrian regime

 

Wanous was deeply upset in recalling this. Had some of the calls came from people he knew personally? I asked. “Yes”, he said. “The ones who threatened me often were from my own police force. They came from my own policemen – of course, they had my mobile number. Some calls came from sons of my own friends.” Of Wanous’s 15‑man police force, five stayed loyal to him. The other 10 defected to Nusra. 

From the start, Nubl and Zahra were defended by their own pro-regime militiamen, a force perhaps 5,000-strong who were armed with rifles, rocket launchers and a few mortars. Up to 25,000 of the original 100,000 civilian inhabitants managed to flee to Turkey in the early days of the fighting. The rest were trapped in their homes and in the narrow, shell-blasted streets. “We reached a period after a year when we were in despair,” one of the local civil administrators, Ali Balwi, said. “We never expected this to end. Many of the civilians died because their wounds could not be cared for. We ran out of petrol early on. They cut off all electricity.” 

 

The villages’ sole link with the outside world was the mobile phone system that operated throughout the siege so that civilians and militiamen could keep in touch with families and friends in Aleppo. Mohamed Nassif, a 61-year old civil servant, recalled how he had, in desperation, called the UN in New York to plead for help and humanitarian aid for the villages. “I spoke to someone – he was a Palestinian lawyer – at the UN Human Rights office in New York and I asked if there was any way the UN could lift this siege and help us. I asked for humanitarian aid. But they did nothing. I did not hear back from them.” 

 

 

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When the siege began, Wanous said, the Syrian government resupplied the villagers with food, bread, flour and medicine. The helicopters also dropped ammunition. There were three or four flights every day during the first year. “Then at about five o’clock, at dawn, on 30 June 2013, a helicopter came to us with some returning villagers from Aleppo and a staff of seven teachers for our schools who were to hold the school exams here,” Wanous said. “Someone in Mayer fired a rocket at the helicopter and the pilot managed to steer it away from the village and it crashed on the hillside outside in a big explosion. There were 17 on board, including the pilot and extra crewman. Everyone died. The bodies were in bits and all were burnt. That was the last helicopter to fly to us.” The wreckage of the helicopter still lies on the hillside.

But there were Syrian Kurdish villages to the north of Nubl and Zahra and Kurdish fighters from Afrin tried to open a road to the besieged Shia; yet Nusra managed to block them. So the Kurds smuggled food to their Syrian compatriots by night. There are differing accounts of what happened next. Some in the village admitted that food prices became so high that poor people could not afford to eat. The authorities say that at least 50 civilians died of hunger. Fatima Abdullah Younis described how she could not find medicine for her sick mother – or for two wounded cousins who could not be cared for and died of their injuries. “God’s help was great for us and so we were patient,” she said. “But we suffered a lot and paid a heavy price in the blood of our martyrs.” During the siege, Ms Younis learned that her nephew, Mohamed Abdullah, had been killed in Aleppo. She and her husband have lost 38 members of their two families in the war. 

But the war around Nubl and Zahra is far from over. I drove along the route from Bashkoi, which the Syrian and Iranian forces took to reach the villages, and found every house, mosque and farm destroyed, the fields ploughed over, olive trees shredded by the roadside. Big Russian-made tanks and trucks carrying anti-aircraft guns blocked some of the roads – driven in one case by Iraqi Shia militiamen with “Kerbala” written on their vehicle – and just to the east of one laneway a Syrian helicopter appeared out of the clouds and dropped a bomb on the Nusra lines half a mile away with a thunderous explosion and a massive cloud of brown smoke. Ramparts of dark, fresh earth have been erected alongside many roads because snipers from Nusra and Isis still shoot at soldiers and civilians driving out to Aleppo. 

 

There seemed no animosity towards the Iranians – whose battledress is a lighter shade of camouflage than the Syrians and whose weapons and sniper rifles seem in many cases newer and more sophisticated that the old Syrian military Kalashnikovs – and you had to talk to the families in Nubl and Zahra to understand why. Many of them had visited the great Iranian shrines in Najaf and Kerbala and several women, including Fatima Younis, had sent their daughters to Tehran University. One of her daughters had – like other young women from the villages – married an Iranian. “One of my daughters studied English literature, the other Arabic literature. My Iranian son-in-law is a doctor,” Younis said. So, of course, when the Iranians arrived with the Syrians, they were greeted not as strangers but as the countrymen of the villagers’ own brothers-in-law. 

 

“The foreign forces came to us because they felt our suffering,” Younis said. “We appreciated their sacrifices. We are proud of them for helping us. But we are Syrian and we have loyalty for our country. We knew that God would help us.” But what of their Sunni neighbours? One old woman holding a grandchild in her arms said it would be “very difficult” to forgive them, but her younger companion was more generous. “Before the attacks, we were like one family,” she said. “We didn’t expect we would ever have a problem in the future. But we are simple people and we can forgive everybody.” 

 

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A poster in Nubl featuring Vladimir Putin, Bashar al-Assad and the Hezbollah leader Sayed Hassan Nasrallah (Nelofer Pazira)

 

There was no sign of Hezbollah fighters in the villages, although everyone said they accompanied the Syrians and Iranians into the battle. But there was one imperishable sight on the walls: a newly minted poster showing the faces of Vladimir Putin, President Bashar al-Assad and Sayed Hassan Nasrallah, the Lebanese Hezbollah leader. Rarely, if ever, have the forces of Russian Orthodoxy, the Alawite sect and Shia Islam been brought so cogently together. 

The men who defended Nubl and Zahra – they also used a B-9 rocket launcher to shoot at Nusra – at first called themselves the “National Defence Force” and then just the “National Defence”. It remains unclear whether they were partly made up of pro-government militias – although such units scarcely existed in this region at the start of the war. The police commander, Rakan Wanous, is an Alawite – or, as journalists always remind readers, the Shia sect to which Assad belongs. Indeed, he is the only Alawite in the area.

 

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Pisao je AP o tim selima pre cetiri godine:

 

In Syria, Sunni rebels besiege Shiite villages

 

BEYANON, Syria (AP) — Anyone who tries to slip out of the Shiite villages of Zahraa and Nubl is risking his life. Sunni rebel snipers stand ready to gun down anyone who dares. Roads are blocked with barricades and checkpoints.
 
For more than three months, Syria's rebels have imposed a smothering siege on the villages, home to around 35,000 people, maintaining they are a den of pro-regime gunmen responsible for killing and kidnapping Sunnis from nearby towns.
 
The bitterness and reprisals between neighbors illustrate how the civil war has torn apart the longtime coexistence among ethnic and religious groups in Syria. And it points to the perils of sectarian divisions that lie ahead for the nation of 21 million as the war worsens.
 
Zahraa and Nubl make up a small pocket of Shiites, mostly regime loyalists, in this overwhelmingly Sunni region in the northern countryside of Aleppo province. The siege has its roots in months of tensions since the Sunni-led revolt against President Bashar Assad began in March 2011. Sunnis in the area say pro-regime gunmen, known as Shabiha, operated from the two villages, attacking nearby towns as they rose up against Assad.
 
The violence fueled a cycle of tit-for-tat killings and kidnappings and tore apart the social fabric between the sects.
 
Then in July, rebels overwhelmed most of Aleppo province, driving out government forces and taking control of the region's towns and villages. The tables were turned: Many Assad loyalists fled to Zahraa and Nubl for refuge, and the rebels clamped down their siege, seeking revenge.
 
Perhaps more than anyone, Bashar al-Hajji feels the impact of the rift. A native of Beyanon, a Sunni village of 5,000 across the main north-south highway from Zahraa and Nubl, he's the only Sunni in town who's married to a Shiite. His wife of five years is from Zahraa.
 
"I am caught between the two sides," said al-Hajji, a 28-year-old mechanic who is not just Sunni but follows the sect's most conservative school, Salafism.
 
His wife's family shuns him and is persistently telling her to leave him and come home to Zahraa.
 
"They know that I am a Salafi, and they think it is permitted for me to kill Shiites," said al-Hajji, sitting in the yard of the family's home in Beyanon.
 
"Well, if this is the case, I don't have to go far to kill one," he said, nodding toward his house.
 
Al-Hajji limps from a gunshot wound he suffered in February, when a gang of Shiites from Zahraa beat and kidnapped him.
 
"Only when my family and others kidnapped about 20 of their own and threatened to kill them was I released," he said. He showed a photograph taken after his release, his face bruised and a deep cut across his cheek.
 
He pointed to a neighborhood of Zahraa in the distance and said it had been home to pro-regime snipers and machine gun nests that shot at "everything that moves" in Beyanon.
 
"They killed and wounded so many of us, we had to block the road," he said.
 
A friend, Khaled Mohammed Saraj, a 29-year-old carpenter, was kidnapped by Shiites in July while driving near Zahraa at 6 a.m.
 
"They kept me in an underground room for six days," recounted the father of two. Three others were also held there, he said, though their captors did not abuse them. They were eventually released in a prisoner exchange.
 
Now dirt mounds — and in some cases slabs of limestone — block the roads leading into Zahraa and Nubl. Rebels have set up checkpoints, and snipers are positioned in empty buildings. Zahraa has its own snipers, on a hill overlooking the road, and they open fire on anyone they see trying to get into the village, fearful of rebel attacks. The barricades were the closest The Associated Press was able to get to the two villages.
 
In the distance, Syria's national flag — now the symbol of Assad's regime — was flying from a water tower in Zahraa, unlike the rebel flags raised in Sunni towns. The Shiites in Zahraa and Nubl are coping with the siege by relying on supplies from a friendly Kurdish village on the other side. But they cannot venture further than that for fear of being killed or kidnapped. Government helicopters land there twice a day, bringing in supplies.
 
For Beyanon and a cluster of nearby Sunni villages — Hayan, Retan, Haritan and Mayer — the feud means they can no longer go into the two larger Shiite villages, or have access to their restaurants, better-stocked grocery stores, mechanics and doctors. The two villages have the area's only high school, along with a vocational institute.
 
"Our villages are poor. Zahraa and Nubl are rich and have so much that we don't have," said al-Hajji, one of six siblings born to a retired military man with 30 years of service in the air force as an aircraft mechanic.
 
The tears in the social fabric are nationwide. Syria's multiple sects, religions and ethnicities long coexisted — not always completely in tune, but usually more harmoniously than in neighboring Lebanon. The country is predominantly Sunni Muslim, while Shiites make up a tiny proportion, less than 5 percent, though exact numbers are not known.
 
The most serious split is between Sunnis and Alawites, an offshoot sect of Shiism that makes up about 15 percent of the population and dominates Assad's regime. Assad and his family are Alawites and elevated their community to top military and government positions.
 
Like the Alawites, Syria's small Shiite community has largely sided with Assad's regime, as has the small Christian minority, which fears the rise of Sunni fundamentalists if Assad falls.
 
"Syria has sustained sectarian scars that will simply take a long time to heal," said Loai Hussein, an opposition political activist. "There has been a great deal of polarization, some of which is encouraged by neighboring countries."
 
There have been countless cases of tit-for-tat slayings between Sunnis and Alawites or Shiites across much of the country. In the main cities, mixed Alawite-Sunni neighborhoods are fast disappearing, as residents of one sect are driven out by the other or flee to areas where their community is the majority.
 
In neighboring Idlib province, which has been the scene of heavy fighting, a Shiite leader from the village of Kifaraya said his son-in-law was kidnapped seven months ago by Sunnis.
 
"I hope it is all part of the war and that it will go away when it is over and we can live together again in peace," said Abu Abdullah Hassaneh. "I am not pointing an accusing finger at anyone. It is haram (religiously prohibited) to do so."
 
In a wider context, Syria's sectarian fault lines reflect a divide in the region. Shiite powerhouses Iran and Hezbollah have backed Syria, while Sunni Egypt, Saudi Arabia and their smaller Arab allies have aided the rebels and called on Assad to step down. Syria's rebels accuse Hezbollah guerrillas and Iraqi Shiite hard-liners of fighting alongside Assad's forces, though they offer no proof.
 
While Syrian opposition politicians in exile speak of inclusion and equality in a post-Assad Syria, the Sunni rebels on the ground bitterly talk of the need to exact retribution against Alawites they say victimized them for decades.
 
Al-Hajji and fighters of the rebel Free Syrian Army insist they will lift the siege on Zahraa and Nubl if the government forces and Shabiha surrender.
 
But their desire for vengeance shows through. They say the Shiite villagers are doing more than providing sanctuary for the regime loyalists and accuse them of taking part in kidnappings and sniping at Sunnis.
 
Al-Hajji's wife's brother was wounded in a recent firefight with Sunnis, he said, but her family said nothing of his injury. They are also evasive when she asks them about conditions in the two villages.
 
Al-Hajji's 62-year-old father, Abdou al-Hajji, adopts a conciliatory tone when speaking about the divides. He notes how Sunnis "embraced" Shiites who fled Lebanon during Hezbollah's war with Israel in 2006.
 
"We have long lived in peace alongside the Shiites," the elder al-Hajji said. "We shared joy in weddings and grief in funerals."

 

 

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ovo sto se dogodilo na glavnom putu za snabdevanje za snage koje se bore u ime asada u alepu i okolini (presecen je put vec cetvrti dan) je ono sto cemo od IS-a gledati ubuduce kada se kalifat svede na manju meru.

to ce biti polugerila koja ce povremeno raditi bas ovakve stvari - presecati komunikacije, pljackati, osvajati neka manja i isturena vojna uporista ili manja mesta i drzati ih par dana.

prednost takvih formacija bice njihova mogucnost brze transformacije, a mana ce biti vecita, san o kalifatu bice nedostizniji nego ikad. sredstvo (teror) ce ostati konstanta u svakom slucaju.

 

ps. za sada ne treba niposto povlaciti paralelu sa talibanima jer su razlike ipak znatne i idu na stetu IS-a.

Edited by Bane5
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То свакако јесте проблем за владине снаге, међутим такав начин герилског рата није лак ни за ИД.

Прво што су главне снаге ИД страни добровољци. Они не могу тако лако да се прикрију у становништву.

Основно средство за рад таквих група, Тојотини пикапови, није лако сакрити у дворишту.

Некакав класичан герилски рат тог типа није изводљив.

 

Могу да раде изненадне нападе на слаба места противника, као што су сад успели, али то је већ сад све теже. Због дужег рата свако село има своје браниоце, и потребно је да нападну са већим снагама. Веће снаге је теже сакрити.

 

Герилски рат ће бити лакше изводљив ако некад дође до заузимања Идлиба и околине, тамо је бољи терен, становништво не воли Асада, могу да дејствују из својих места.

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ovo sto se dogodilo na glavnom putu za snabdevanje za snage koje se bore u ime asada u alepu i okolini (presecen je put vec cetvrti dan) je ono sto cemo od IS-a gledati ubuduce kada se kalifat svede na manju meru.

to ce biti polugerila koja ce povremeno raditi bas ovakve stvari - presecati komunikacije, pljackati, osvajati neka manja i isturena vojna uporista ili manja mesta i drzati ih par dana.

prednost takvih formacija bice njihova mogucnost brze transformacije, a mana ce biti vecita, san o kalifatu bice nedostizniji nego ikad. sredstvo (teror) ce ostati konstanta u svakom slucaju.

 

ps. za sada ne treba niposto povlaciti paralelu sa talibanima jer su razlike ipak znatne i idu na stetu IS-a.

Ocistili su kompletnu zadapdnu obalu jezera i vratili strateski(tranzitni) bitan grad Khanasser , mislim da ce ofanziva ici sve do sledeceg jezera "Asad " kako bi takticki totalno onesposobili Isis u toj severnoj regiji ...

Zanimljivo da Turci grade naki zid na granici sa Sirijom, odnosno do dela teritorije koja je po kurdskom kontrolom ...

 

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Edited by Geo
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