Cripple Aleppo
No more shots are fired in Aleppo but things in the former industrial hub of Syria are in dire straits.
In eastern Aleppo, bodies still lie under the rubble, graveyards are full, people are short of electricity and bread, and some children take classes in mosques because their schools have been ruined by war.
Seven months after the army drove rebels from their stronghold in the Syrian city, the state looks paper thin there, with most services seen by Reuters provided by residents or with help from international aid agencies or local charities.
Aleppo was Syria's most populous city and industrial engine before the war and its recapture delivered President Bashar al-Assad his biggest in a string of battlefield victories.
Its recovery would not just be symbolic of Assad's improving fortunes, but a signal that the Syrian state was capable of revival after years of weakness.
The United Nations says about 200 000 people have returned to east Aleppo after it emptied during the fighting, mostly from temporary accommodation in areas held by the government.
However in al-Kalasa district, which Reuters visited in both early February and mid-July with a government official who was present during some interviews with residents, the city's recovery seemed slow and largely out of state hands.
Electricity came from private generators, water from wells or tanks filled by aid agencies, bread from charities, and basic education and healthcare with help from the United Nations.
The government removed mountains of rubble from main streets after the fighting, and Aleppo's assistant governor told Reuters the state was ultimately responsible for the services provided by aid agencies.
But in Kalasa, retaken in December amid a furious bombardment with help from Russia and Iran, the strongest signs of the state's presence were a concrete checkpoint and a poster of Assad pledging: “We will rebuild”.
After six years of war, his state is in tatters. Large parts of the country remain outside its control. Western sanctions have hobbled the economy. Water and power services are in ruins, road networks wrecked and hundreds of thousands of working-age men remain under arms.
Hard lessons
Eight-year-old Ghassan Batash would have attended the Yarmouk and Sabbagh school but it is unusable. Its walls still carry the logo of Jaish al-Islam, a rebel faction that made the school its base. In the library stands a “hell cannon” or homemade mortar.
In the schoolyard, two big craters show where air strikes targeted rebel fighters, wrecking classrooms.
It left Ghassan, who wants to be a soldier when he grows up and likes playing football in the street, with the choice of walking to school elsewhere or going to the mosque.
But at the Abdulatif school in Firdous district and the Karameh school in Bustan al-Qasr, which run summer programmes supported by the United Nations, the head teachers said class sizes had nearly doubled.
“People are still coming back so we're still taking more students every day,” said Maha Mushaleh, the head of Abdulatif school.
Less than a quarter of east Aleppo's 200 schools are working, said Abdulghani al-Qasab, the assistant governor, adding that the government is working with the United Nations to rehabilitate 100 more.
When Reuters last visited Kalasa, Ayad was clearing rubble by hand from al-Mouassassi street, where his family shared a house with other relatives.
There was no electricity or water and the family relied on paraffin lamps for light and on wood foraged by the children from ruined houses for warmth.
But Ayad, a supporter of Assad, says the situation is much better now than it was in February and he believes the government is responsible for that.
He has found a construction job and he lives with his wife and four small children in her parents' flat in the road behind Mouassassi street.
In his mother Heyam's flat, there is still no door except a plastic sheet, but a cable to the local generator means she has a light bulb, a fan and a television.
She proudly presented a plate of traditional biscuits she had made for the Eid al-Fitr religious festival. “It's the first Eid since the war began that feels like Eid and the first one we've had back in our house, so I wanted to do everything properly,” she said.
The dead are never far away. The cemeteries are so full that there is little space to walk between graves, and some stones are marked by bullets or shrapnel. War dead were often buried in existing graves, their names added to tombstones in black paint.
NAMPA/REUTERS
Seven months after the army drove rebels from their stronghold in the Syrian city, the state looks paper thin there, with most services seen by Reuters provided by residents or with help from international aid agencies or local charities.
Aleppo was Syria's most populous city and industrial engine before the war and its recapture delivered President Bashar al-Assad his biggest in a string of battlefield victories.
Its recovery would not just be symbolic of Assad's improving fortunes, but a signal that the Syrian state was capable of revival after years of weakness.
The United Nations says about 200 000 people have returned to east Aleppo after it emptied during the fighting, mostly from temporary accommodation in areas held by the government.
However in al-Kalasa district, which Reuters visited in both early February and mid-July with a government official who was present during some interviews with residents, the city's recovery seemed slow and largely out of state hands.
Electricity came from private generators, water from wells or tanks filled by aid agencies, bread from charities, and basic education and healthcare with help from the United Nations.
The government removed mountains of rubble from main streets after the fighting, and Aleppo's assistant governor told Reuters the state was ultimately responsible for the services provided by aid agencies.
But in Kalasa, retaken in December amid a furious bombardment with help from Russia and Iran, the strongest signs of the state's presence were a concrete checkpoint and a poster of Assad pledging: “We will rebuild”.
After six years of war, his state is in tatters. Large parts of the country remain outside its control. Western sanctions have hobbled the economy. Water and power services are in ruins, road networks wrecked and hundreds of thousands of working-age men remain under arms.
Hard lessons
Eight-year-old Ghassan Batash would have attended the Yarmouk and Sabbagh school but it is unusable. Its walls still carry the logo of Jaish al-Islam, a rebel faction that made the school its base. In the library stands a “hell cannon” or homemade mortar.
In the schoolyard, two big craters show where air strikes targeted rebel fighters, wrecking classrooms.
It left Ghassan, who wants to be a soldier when he grows up and likes playing football in the street, with the choice of walking to school elsewhere or going to the mosque.
But at the Abdulatif school in Firdous district and the Karameh school in Bustan al-Qasr, which run summer programmes supported by the United Nations, the head teachers said class sizes had nearly doubled.
“People are still coming back so we're still taking more students every day,” said Maha Mushaleh, the head of Abdulatif school.
Less than a quarter of east Aleppo's 200 schools are working, said Abdulghani al-Qasab, the assistant governor, adding that the government is working with the United Nations to rehabilitate 100 more.
When Reuters last visited Kalasa, Ayad was clearing rubble by hand from al-Mouassassi street, where his family shared a house with other relatives.
There was no electricity or water and the family relied on paraffin lamps for light and on wood foraged by the children from ruined houses for warmth.
But Ayad, a supporter of Assad, says the situation is much better now than it was in February and he believes the government is responsible for that.
He has found a construction job and he lives with his wife and four small children in her parents' flat in the road behind Mouassassi street.
In his mother Heyam's flat, there is still no door except a plastic sheet, but a cable to the local generator means she has a light bulb, a fan and a television.
She proudly presented a plate of traditional biscuits she had made for the Eid al-Fitr religious festival. “It's the first Eid since the war began that feels like Eid and the first one we've had back in our house, so I wanted to do everything properly,” she said.
The dead are never far away. The cemeteries are so full that there is little space to walk between graves, and some stones are marked by bullets or shrapnel. War dead were often buried in existing graves, their names added to tombstones in black paint.
NAMPA/REUTERS
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