Coming home
After a siege that lasted eight years, Al-Rastan opened its gates to the returnees forced to leave under the threat of violence.
On the northern border, 20km from both Homs and Hama, Al-Rastan city is located. Coming from Homs, I have vivid memories from the area, from family trips to passing Al-Rastan Dam on the Orontes River, the famous landmark I always read about in school geography books. This visit has altered beautiful childhood memories I had preserved for years.
After the long-lasting clashes ended, the city opened the gates again. I joined the first field mission there with the World Food Programme (WFP). The visit aimed at assessing the dire situation to redesign our general food distribution programme with additional caseloads to cover the alimentary needs after eight years of ongoing fights and thousands of displacements, as it is one of the first cities involved in the armed conflict since the Syrian crisis started.
I was not fully prepared for what I was about to see. Starting with Homs, the city I remember my grandfather telling me about. As he cultivated images of a thriving town inside my head, the reality was an immense shock. Despite watching the news, what I felt on the ground was indescribable.

As winter just started, yellowish-greys took over the horizon, accompanied by sharp wind chills that entered the core of our bones the moment we stepped outside the vehicle. On the way to Al-Rastan, I increasingly saw the destruction, all the marks left by bullets, rockets and mortars, the fragile skeleton of buildings with burnt furniture. But that did not even brace me for what we encountered at our destination.
The convoy stopped after a 30-minute trip, on a cliff of a hill, where for the first moment, I thought it was the middle of nowhere until I heard an old man coming out of a house on the edge of the abyss. It was deserted but he lived there, greeting us with a smile and inviting us for a coffee. Just then, I realized that what it seemed to be a ghost town was almost fully populated with around 19,000 displaced families returned from the onset of 2018.
Walking up the hill, amidst the rubble, people came out of their frameless windows to talk to us, desperately hoping for assistance. Khaled, a 14-year-old boy, followed us all the way up to his house, or what is left of it. “I must work with my father to support our family, that is why I had to miss school” he told me while we marched. Khaled is currently back in school, after missing four years of his education. Currently, he is in the 3rd grade instead of the 7th but still very delighted to be back.

Saffana, his mother, was waiting for us at the doorstep. She left Al-Rastan with her husband and four children when the clashes started. Now returned to their hometown since they cannot bear the costs of both rent and living for much longer in Hama where they were displaced. “It is definitely better to be back home, but it is not the same as we left it. Everything in our house is burnt and looted, we cannot sleep here in this situation” she said looking at the empty door frame.
“At least we need a door and a window to protect us from the bitter cold” she continued.
The family’s house consisted of one room, a kitchen and a bathroom. A stack of burnt concrete blocks forming hollow spaces, except for a mattress, some rusty cutlery, and a blanket. A distressed plastic sheet was covering the window. I felt the frozen breeze coming through even with the warm rays of the sun. Their home was supposed to protect all six of them throughout the harsh winter, yet instead, it is merely sufficient for one person to survive a lovely spring.

Fatima, a four-year-old timid girl, the youngest and only female among her siblings, was always hiding behind her mother’s dress, clinging tightly to it, refusing to answer any of my questions but always smiling and looking at me with a gaze filled with joy.
“It had been almost a year since we last ate meat, Fatima sleeps dreaming of its taste sometimes” her mother answered when I asked about what they usually eat.

Dreadful conditions prevail the district, most of the infrastructure is destroyed with intermittent phone networks, however, no landlines or internet are available. A few hours of electricity a day is provided and minimum access to water every three to four days. That is how the people of Al-Rastan live daily for now.
WFP aims to reach some 75,000 people living in Al-Rastan with life-saving food assistance every month. As returnee flows continue, glimpses of hope accompany them, but often met with despair. Help is needed to support these families re-starting their lives again and to allow children like Fatima and Khaled to at least dream about a future they deserve.
January 2019.
Read more about WFP’s work in Syria.
