Obeida, a White Helmet since 2014, commands relief operations from Harem in Syria's northwestern Idlib province. (Courtesy of: Obeida)
It seemed like yet another curse among many.
After more than a decade of bombing by Bashar al-Assad's regime and its Russian ally, the seizure of much of the area by the jihadist group Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), as well as economic and humanitarian crises, Syria’s rebel-held northwest was hit yet again — this time by the earthquake at dawn on Feb. 6.
In areas of northwestern Syria controlled by HTS or Ankara-backed rebels, at least 1,347 people have died, according to a provisional death toll.
Left to their own devices, the White Helmets, a local civil defense group, are still trying to lift survivors from the rubble. Meanwhile, residents have been held hostage for several years by the Syrian government and Russia’s partial blockade of humanitarian convoys into the area.
This week, L'Orient-Le Jour will give the floor to residents of opposition-held northwestern Syria, where 4 million people live, most of them internally displaced by 12 years of conflict.
Today, we hear the testimony of Obeida, who volunteers with the White Helmets in Idlib.
Testimony collected by Noura DOUKHI.
“After all the explosive barrels and missiles dropped by the Syrian regime all over the country, I decided to join the White Helmets in early 2014. I am from the town of Maarat al-Numan (Idlib province). In early 2020, my family and I fled after Assad regime forces and Russia bombed the town and its surroundings. They destroyed schools, hospitals, medical centers, markets … All the inhabitants fled further north.
“This morning [Monday], I woke up in the operations center of the Civil Defense in the region, based in Harem (Idlib province), where I have been since the earthquake hit. As the operations commander, I gathered the whole team. We prepared to rescue anyone trapped under the rubble. During the morning, we cleared the ruins from the streets with heavy vehicles to facilitate the movement of civilians. People are happy to see us by their side.
“Then I went from team to team inspecting the progress of the work, from clearing the roads to examining the cracked buildings. I could see the sadness and pain in the eyes of the survivors, especially those who had taken refuge in the streets after losing their homes. I wish I could give them everything they need. I wondered how the children who no longer had a home would live. And then I thought about my family, whom I have not seen since the earthquake.
“Every day, I think back to when the earthquake happened: to the screams of the women and children under the rubble, to how we were looking for a way to get them out. These scenes will remain in the memory of the survivors as long as they live … and in mine. Images are engraved in my head. Some are beautiful, like the ones where I see the faces of the people we were able to get out alive. But the others are macabre. Three of my colleagues in civil protection died with their families during the earthquake … I remember this man who came to me to tell me that his brother and his children were under the rubble. I hurried to the scene. I crept through the ruins of the house. There I heard the voice of a 12-year-old child. He started to cry and begged me not to abandon him. The building was so cracked. It was about to collapse on us at any moment. We would have found ourselves in the rubble. I looked at it one last time to calculate the time left before it fell. The building was still shaking. But quickly, my colleagues and I decided to do everything we could to save this child and his family. At that moment, I know we risked our lives, but we shrugged it off. Twenty minutes later, we were able to extract the child and his mother alive. The other members of their family did not survive.”
This article was originally published in French in L'Orient-Le Jour.