Families as they tried to escape from Baghouz, the last Syrian town under the control of the Islamic State to fall. The IS leaders escaped, leaving behind almost 25,000 of their followers. Credit: Jewan Abdi/ IPS

By Jewan Abdi
HASSAKE, Syria, Mar 27 2024 (IPS)

Rozena, a 31-year-old woman from Guyana, says she travelled to Turkey in 2015 to join an NGO which helped Syrian refugees. That’s all she’ll reveal when asked how and why she ended up living in the so-called Islamic State for four years.

IPS spoke to her inside the small tent where she has spent the last five years with her two children at Roj camp. At 780 km northeast of Damascus, it holds around 3,000 individuals with alleged links to the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (IS).

“If we don't help these children, I cannot imagine how their lives will be in the future. And this is not only the Kurdish administration’s responsibility”

Natascha Rée Mikkelsen

This transnational Jihadist group managed to set up an unrecognised quasi-state. By the end of 2015, the self-proclaimed caliphate ruled an area with an estimated population of 12 million people living under an extreme interpretation of Islamic Law.

After an intense conflict mainly with Kurdish forces backed by Washington, IS lost control of all its Middle Eastern territories in the Spring of 2019. Rozana and her two children were then captured in Baghouz, the last village under the Islamists´ rule to fall.

Since then, a tent where a few toys and books are stored in a separate corner has been the closest thing to a home for her and her children.

“This is no childhood for them,” says Rozena. “They’re missing the most basic things: from fresh air to clean water, not to mention a proper school…”

Some, however, have managed to escape from the camp since it was established. “I know people who have paid up to 15,000 USD but I don’t have such an amount. My only chance to leave this place with my two kids is to be repatriated”, says Rozena.

But Guyana is one of the countries that refuses to repatriate its nationals. Rozana says she’s tried “absolutely everything” with her government, but that there’s been no reaction so far. “My kids are certainly not a threat, and neither am I,” she insists.

She also fears that they might get radicalised inside the camp. “Half of the people here still stick to IS’s radical ideology. I can teach my kids the best I can, but they will learn other things from playing with other kids,” explains the captive.

Children born in the Islamic caliphate somewhere in the Syrian desert. Most of them remain in precarious prison camps in northeastern Syria. Credit: Jewan Abdi / IPS

Radicalisation

Although some Syrian citizens have been taken to court in Syria’s northeast for alleged links with IS, the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (AANES) lacks international recognition and, hence, is unable to try foreign individuals.

Figures shared with IPS by the AANES point to over 31,000 children from families once linked with IS still under their custody. Many are born out of forced marriages or rape. Most of them languish in Al Hol camp, in the outskirts of Hassake.

At 655 Km northeast of Damascus, it’s a vast area for thousands of makeshift tents battered by the relentless rains during winter and burning sunshine during summer.

In conversation with IPS, Al Hol camp director Jihan Hanan says there are people from 50 different nationalities. But the kids pose a major source of concern.

“We have only two schools for them, but not all the children are attending these centres, especially the ones from 12 to 18 years old. They´re the most vulnerable here in the camp and many radicalised women trying to brainwash them,” explains Hanan.

She also points to “deadly attacks” in the past. “We had to conduct special security operations. Today the attacks are limited to thefts and threats, and they target NGOs too,” adds the official.

According to her, IS sleeping cells inside the camp are posing a major threat. “They are the most dangerous groups, and they are always approaching the children to recruit them,” she warns.

The foreigners’ section of the Al Hol camp. Women and children wait to go to the hospital, shop or receive help. The Kurdish administration separated foreign Islamic State families from Syrians and Iraqis. Credit: Jewan Abdi / IPS

A taste of home

Repatriation to their countries of origin is seemingly the only way out for many. US State Department sources point to more than 3,500 repatriated to 14 countries as of 2023.

A 2022 study conducted by Human Rights Watch gathering the experiences of more than 100 children revealed that most of them are attending school, with many excelling in their studies. 82 percent of survey respondents described the child’s emotional and psychological well-being as “very good” or “quite good.”

“Notwithstanding the ordeals they survived both under IS and subsequently in captivity in the northeast Syrian camps, many are reintegrating successfully in their new communities,” concludes the report.

Sweden is one of the countries that has repatriated most of their citizens in 2022. But policies changed after the arrival to power of a new government allied with the far right, in September 2022.

Aerial view of the Al Hol camp, in northeastern Syria, 655 kilometres from Damascus. It hosts more than 50,000 people, of which almost 30,000 are children of dozens of different nationalities. Credit: Jewan Abdi / IPS

“These people chose to go there to join IS, one of the cruellest terrorist organisations we have seen, so there’s no obligation on the part of Sweden and the Swedish government to act for these people to come home,” the Swedish foreign affair minister Tobias Billström said in an interview with Swedish TV4 on March 13.

But not everyone agrees. Repatriate The Children is a Swedish NGO working and advocating to send children home. “It’s a purely political decision to leave these children there and not repatriate them,” RTC co-founder and spokesperson Natascha Rée Mikkelsen tells IPS over the phone from Copenhagen.

“They have already experienced things that no child should see, like war, unsafety, no proper education or no access to proper health care. By leaving them stranded in this environment, the risk of being part of IS ideology remains high,” adds the human rights advocate.

“If we don’t help these children, I cannot imagine how their lives will be in the future. And this is not only the Kurdish administration’s responsibility,” stresses Mikkelsen, who also labels the constant Turkish airstrikes as “one of the region’s main destabilising factors.”

The AANES has repeatedly stated that they lack the resources to cater for these thousands of families. Top United Nations officials have also called on governments to repatriate their nationals from the camps.

“Every country should take care of their citizens, especially the women and the children,” Abdulkarim Omar, the representative of the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria to Europe, tells IPS over the phone from Brussels.

“We believe it is going to be a long process, that’s why we urge the countries to help us, especially with their citizens,” adds the Kurdish official, who also highlights the need to improve the conditions of alleged IS prisoners under Kurdish custody.

When asked about the possibility of the outside world ignoring the problem, Omar is blunt: “If no action is taken in the short term, we are soon to face a whole new generation of terrorists that will be a threat to all the world.”

An oil production field near Rumilan, in Syria´s northeast, shortly after being hit by Turkish drones. Oil is one of the main sources of income for the entire Kurdish region. Credit: Jewan Abdi/IPS

By Jewan Abdi and Arkan Sloo
QAMISHLI, Syria, Feb 29 2024 (IPS)

The Ramsys, a farming couple from northeast Syria, never thought they’d spend almost all their savings on solar panels. “We’ve paid 1,700 USD. We simply couldn’t cope with darkness and being disconnected from the outside world,” Najma Ramsy tells IPS from her residence in Keshka, a small Kurdish village 70 km east of Qamishli.

Ramsy admits she still needs to familiarise herself with the new device, mirroring the sky from the house roof. It’s also a reminder of an ongoing threat.

Those in the region already facing a severe water crisis, now also bear the brunt of increased bombardment, exacerbating their struggle to get essential water supplies

Human Rights Watch
“It’s devastating. The Turks are shelling us almost daily. I will never forget how our house trembled when the oil pump station nearby was hit,” she recalls.

Although under-reported in the international media, bombing raids have been common currency in this region over the last few years.

A report released last January by the Rojava Information Centre —an independent and volunteer-staffed organisation— points to a “periodic airstrikes campaign” conducted by Turkey against civilian infrastructures in Syria’s northeast. Moreover, hundreds of civilians have been killed.

The RIC says the bombing campaign started when Ankara launched a cross-border attack against the Syrian Kurdish region of Serekaniye in 2019, giving air support to Islamist militias on the ground.

After the Istanbul attack on 13 November 2022 which killed six and wounded dozens, Turkish airstrikes and bombing intensified in the region. Ankara blamed the Kurds for the attack. Both the Kurdish Workers Party (PKK) and the predominantly Kurdish Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) denied any involvement in it.

However, the bombing continued, and even gained momentum.

In October 2023, electricity, gas, and oil facilities were hit by airstrikes, causing extensive infrastructure and economic damage and worsening the already fragile humanitarian situation in Northeast Syria.

Najma Ramsy stands next to the newly installed solar panel on the roof of her house. The family spent a month in the dark after the power plant was attacked by a Turkish airstrike. Credit: Arkan Sloo/IPS

One month later, Turkey conducted new airstrikes following operations of the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) against Turkish military bases in the mountains of the Iraqi Kurdistan Region, where several Turkish soldiers were killed.

In retaliation, medical facilities, construction material factories, industrial sites and agricultural complexes which included grain silos and mills were targeted in Syria´s northeast.

“For the last five months, we had no access to clean water, and our only source of electricity is to subscribe to community generators. We can only afford 3 hours of electricity every day,” 50-year-old Gulsin Malla told IPS from her residence on the outskirts of the city of Qamishli, 700 km northeast of Damascus.

Unlike the Ramsys, Malla hasn’t got the money needed for a solar panel. “It would be like three year’s worth of salary, you know?” she explains. Besides, gas has also become too expensive.

In mid-January, at least seven employees were seriously injured in an attack on the Suwadiyah gas extraction plant, 85 kilometres southeast of Qamishli. The infrastructure which serves almost one million people has been constantly targeted by Turkish attacks in the last twelve months.

“We have been cooking on wood. We haven’t had any gas for over a month,” explains Malla. The gas shortage, she adds, has increased its price tenfold.

“Add to the list the difficulties to get medical supplies and you´ll understand why we say it’s like a `slow death´ for us,” she says.

A day at the market in downtown Qamishli. The airstrike campaign targeting civilian infrastructures is pushing many to leave the region. Credit: Jewan Abdi/IPS

Jihadist threat

A Human Rights Watch report published last October confirmed that Turkish drone strikes on Kurdish-held areas of northeast Syria had damaged critical infrastructure and resulted in water and electricity disruption for millions of people.

“Those in the region already facing a severe water crisis, now also bear the brunt of increased bombardment, exacerbating their struggle to get essential water supplies. Turkey should urgently stop targeting critical infrastructure necessary for residents’ rights and well-being, including power and water stations,” HRW stressed.

IPS spoke to Kurdish Red Crescent officials who pointed to “war crimes”. They described the situation as “unbearable” and accused Turkey of “vandalising” the region. “The loss of vital infrastructures is leading to an increase in displacement from the region. Many are trying to find their way out, especially to Europe,” KRC officials disclosed.

But Ankara has a completely different approach.

In a televised address following a Cabinet meeting on January 16, Turkey’s president, Recep Tayyip Erdogan vowed to “widen military operations against groups linked to Kurdish militants in Iraq and Syria”. Turkish officials have repeatedly claimed the airstrike campaign is targeting Kurdish “terror groups.”

“Those claims by Ankara have no credibility,” YPG (“People’s Protection Units”) —the main Syrian-Kurdish armed contingent— media officer, Siyamend Ali, told IPS from his office in downtown Qamishli.

“Most of the casualties were plain civilians, and most of the targets were civilian infrastructures. Nearly two million have been left without electricity, not to mention water and healthcare,” added the official.

He also warned about other risks.

”By targeting our infrastructures they’re suffocating our people, but they’re also giving oxygen to IS to increase their activities again,” he stressed.

The Kurds in Syria have been the main allies of the international coalition led by the United States in the war against IS. Over 10,000 Kurdish fighters were killed.

Massive destruction at the Suwadiyah oil, gas and electricity plant in northeastern Syria. The only station supplying cooking gas to the entire region has been hit by Turkish airstrikes at least four times in the past two years. Credit: RIC

In a phone conversation with IPS, Abdulkarim Omar, the representative of the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria to Europe claimed that Ankara’s main goal is “to destabilize the Kurdish region and change its demography.”

The Brussels-based Kurdish official also highlighted that two Syrian-Kurdish districts — Afrin and Serekaniye— are still under occupation by Turkey-backed Islamist groups in 2018 and 2019 respectively.

“Ours is not only a Kurdish administration as there are also Arabs, Syriacs, Armenians and Chechens living among us. We cater for nearly five million people in northeast Syria. One million of them are Syrian war internally displaced people,” Karim recalled.

The threats are seemingly piling up for all of them.

Fahad Fatta, a 43-year-old businessman from Qamishli, thought about moving with his wife and their three kids to a small farm they own close to the Turkish border. But they don’t dare go there any more after they were shot at from Turkish territory.

“The security situation is worsening by the day. We’re always worried about our three children, especially when they are away at school or playing outside with their friends,” Fatta tells IPS from his flat in Qamishli.

That police security checkpoints have moved from their positions on the main road due to the airstrikes is far from reassuring. IS is still active, and Fatta fears the Jihadists might take advantage of the security gap.

“We have neither electricity nor gas at home” he says. “We can barely afford a few amperes of the community generator but I’m afraid these could be the least of our concerns.”

Mosul refugees just arrived at the newly set up camp in Khazar. Credit: Jewan Abdi/IPS

By Jewan Abdi
KHAZAR, Iraq, Jun 15 2014 (IPS)

“People with long beards and dressed like Afghans broke into our neighbourhood after they had bombed it. We were lucky to escape from that nightmare,” Aum Ahmad, a46-year-old woman from Mosul – 400 km northwest of Baghdad – told IPS from the recently set up Khazar refugee camp, 25 km east of the besieged city.

“The fighters spoke classic Arabic to each other so it was obvious to everyone that they were from outside Iraq,” she added, while striving to organise her belongings inside the blue tent she and her family will have to share with fellow refugees.

They are just a few among the 500,000 that, according to the U.N. Refugee Agency (UNHCR), have left Mosul in recent days after the city was taken over by Sunni insurgents on June 10.

An estimated 300,000 of them [refugees from Mosul] are reportedly seeking shelter in the Iraqi Kurdistan Region, the closest thing to a state of their own the Kurds have ever had, and which has remained almost untouched by the on-going violence in the rest of the country.An estimated 300,000 of them [refugees from Mosul] are reportedly seeking shelter in the Iraqi Kurdistan Region, the closest thing to a state of their own the Kurds have ever had, and which has remained almost untouched by the on-going violence in the rest of the country.

However, only those with family members or sponsors who can provide accommodation are allowed to enter Erbil, the administrative capital of Iraqi Kurdistan, 390 km north of Baghdad.

Samia Hamoud,a 48-year-old mother of eight children, was not lucky enough to be among the latter. She says she will stay in the camp because she is worried about her children´s safety.

“My street was full of bodies but nobody could retrieve them back because of the snipers,” recalls Hamoud, who said that she lost her husband in the shelling of Nabi Yunus district, on the eastern bank of the Tigris river which bisects the city.

Many sources are giving full credit for the fall of Mosul to the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS), a Jihadi group formerly linked to Al Qaeda that is today claiming territory in both countries.

However, Hamoud described the assailants as ”Sunni militiamen in plain civilian clothes.”

“They were well organised. On our way out, they were manning checkpoints and checking people´s passports and IDs through laptops with an internet access. I guess they were looking for men who had any relation with the Iraqi security forces,” she added.

Hamoud´s testimony does not bear out the theory that gives full credit to ISIS for the victory in Mosul.

The governor of the city, Atheel al Nujaifi, also escaped when militants attacked Mosul. Speaking from Erbil, he told IPS that there are also groups “other than ISIS” behind the attack and that a “Sunni-armed group should be set up to fight the extremists.”

“The Iraqi Sunnis were the first victims of Al Qaeda-linked groups just after the invasion in 2003,” underlined the senior official, who hopes for a decentralised Iraq.

Alongside other cities in Western Iraq, Mosul also hosted massive demonstrations from December 2012 until March 2013. Iraq´s Sunni population is variously estimated to be between 20 and 40 percent of Iraq’s population of 32 million. They have been complaining of increasing marginalisation by the predominantly Shia political leaders.

Ghanim Alabed was one of the most visible faces of the protests in Mosul. The 40-year-old accountant had moved to Erbil in April after the demonstrations dragged the west of the country into unprecedented chaos since the peak of sectarian violence between 2006 and 2008.

“The fall of Mosul is the victory of the revolution,” Alabed told IPS Saturday from his residence in Erbil. “It has been thanks to a joint operation by Islamic groups such as Ansar al-Sunna, the Mujahideen Army, but also the Army of the Men of the Naqshbandi Order (JRTN), a group set up in 2006 after the execution of Saddam Hussein, and allegedly commanded by Izzat Ibrahim al Duri, a top military commander and a vice president in the Hussein government. In fact, Mosul was the country´s last stronghold for the Baath party of Iraq´s ousted ruler Saddam Hussein.

Alabed ensured that many of the refugees who had left Mosul are now back, and that roadside blocks across the city have been removed so that locals can move “freely and unmolested.”

“They are celebrating victory back home after getting rid of Maliki´s occupation forces,” said Alabed, adding that he is planning to go back to his native Mosul “in the forthcoming days.”

Many analysts still wonder how a city of two million could fall just in a few hours. Local Sunni insurgent groups had never shown such power since the country´s invasion. On the other hand, ISIS fighters have struggled in vain to take over much smaller Kurdish villages in northeast Syria for over two years.

Salem, a former soldier who did not want to disclose his full name, shared his own experience:

“We were betrayed by our own captains and commanders. When we realised they had all left, we changed our uniforms for plains clothes and followed suit,” the 35-year-old told IPS while he queued in Erbil for a flight ticket to Baghdad.

Salem had served in Mosul for over three years and, as most of the soldiers deployed in Iraq´s predominantly Sunni west, he is also Shiite. He said he could not figure out whether the attackers were ISIS fighters or local Sunni militants.

“Why should I bother to defend a community that hates us?” added the former soldier from Samawa – 260 km southeast of Baghdad. “In fact, I reckon many people in Mosul are very happy about all this.”

Igor Urizar teaches Syrian refugees to ski on the slopes of Iraqi Kurdistan. Credit: Nuzha Ezzat/IPS.

By Jewan Abdi
PENJWIN, Iraqi Kurdistan, Feb 16 2014 (IPS)

No one here has heard of the Sochi Winter Olympics. But the snow conditions are perfect in these Kurdish mountains of Iraq and 11-year-old Syrian refugee Hassan Khishman is thrilled to glide on skis for the first time.

“It’s brought back the good times with friends in Syria,” the Syrian Kurd boy tells IPS after sliding down a tiny slope.

Located on the Iranian border around 300 km northeast of Baghdad, the mountain village Penjwin was known as a major hub of refugees fleeing Saddam Hussein’s campaigns. Smugglers’ caravans still cross these rugged border valleys with all sorts of goods packed on mule backs. Mines continue to pose a major concern."I only hope that they will be able to do this again, or any other activity that helps bring back their childhood - even if it is just for a few hours.”

But the area where locals have been skiing has been carefully chosen to avoid cruel surprises. War is becoming a distant memory for these highlanders. For some children like Hassan, the slopes have thrown up a happy surprise.

The youngsters have been brought here from refugee camps at the initiative of ski instructor Igor Urizar – a Spaniard who set up Iraq’s first ski school here – to help them escape the bitter memory of war.

“We fled Syria because of the war. There were many among us who died, and the food became very expensive,” says Hassan who left his native town Hasakah and crossed the border almost a year ago.

He now lives in the Arbad refugee camp in Suleymania province, 260 km northeast of Baghdad. It is one of six refugee settlements in the Kurdish autonomous region.

According to the UN, over 200,000 Syrian refugees have taken shelter in Iraq’s stable northern region. Huddled in tents, they’re all facing one of the coldest winters ever recorded in the region.

Helin Kaseer is three years older than Hassan and could identify those who forced her family to flee Girke Lege, a Kurdish village.

“We left Syria eight months ago because of the growing presence of Islamists in our area. There was a lot of fighting and several of my friends were kidnapped, so we couldn’t go to school,” explains the girl.

For her, too, the chance to ski has come as a “huge surprise”. She wishes there were more opportunities because “many more children from the camp wanted to come, but did not get the chance.”

Urizar, the man who initiated the skiing opportunity for the children, explains why the other children had to be left out.

“We have just enough equipment for a few dozen. Besides, getting the necessary permission for them to leave the camp for just one day has been a real nightmare,” says 38-year-old Uzirar, who planted the seeds of skiing in a place as improbable as Iraq.

Before his first visit to Penjwin in 2010, Urizar was a ski instructor in the northern Spanish region Navarra where every year about 5,000 schoolchildren enjoy a week of skiing in the Pyrenees.

With the support of the Tigris Association, a Basque-Kurdish NGO, his dream to export this project to the Kurdish mountains seems to be on the right track.

Local villagers as well as government officials are thrilled with Iraq’s first ski school here, and the second set up in Ranya, 430 km northeast of Baghdad.

Falah Salah, the Tigris local coordinator, ensures that the skiing project continues with the personal backing of Hero Khan, the wife of Iraqi President Jalal Talabani, for the second consecutive year.

Salah is planning to run for the Iraqi parliament in elections in April, so he’s passing on the baton to Khalid Mohamad Qadir, head of Penwjin’s Youth Centre.

“Three years ago, Tigris invited us to the Pyrenees to check the possibilities of cross-country skiing as part of sustainable development,” explains Qadir, as he tries to manage a bunch of anxious children waiting for their turn.

“Over the past two years, the Roncal Valley Ski School has trained young Kurds who are now teaching a growing number of visitors in our area. Most of them are Kurdish but we have recently had people from France and Holland too,” he says.

After putting on his boots over three pairs of socks, Mohamed Ibrahim is ready. The 13-year-old native of Tirbespiye, 600 km northeast of Damascus, smiles but says that nothing can help him forget what he witnessed in Syria.

“The jihadists began to harass and kill us in our area. There was no food, no oil. So we left just at the first opportunity to escape. I’ve never been so scared in my life,” he tells IPS.

As the children jump on a bus back to the camp, just before the sun sets behind the snow-capped peaks, Urizar seems relaxed. It has been a hectic and stressful week due to bureaucratic hurdles and rain forecast which, thankfully, proved wrong.

“I cannot help thinking that these kids will have to sleep in those tents again,” says Urizar, drying the skis before putting them away.

“I only hope that they will be able to do this again, or any other activity that helps bring back their childhood – even if it is just for a few hours.”