On the road to Damascus from Lebanon, Syrians express hope and worry of what's next

Syria-Lebanon border to DAMASCUS, Syria – The road to Damascus tells the story of a new Syria emerging from 54 years of authoritarian rule by one family – the Assads.

At the border crossing between Lebanon and Syria, 57-year-old Hassan Sweileh paces back and forth wondering if he should return to the country he fled from during the civil war.

He wants to go back to search for his son, who was snatched by regime forces 12 years ago. He doesn't know why he was detained. He's only certain that he disappeared into Syria's prison system known for torture and executions.

But going back is complicated. He'd lose his refugee status in Lebanon and the home he once had in Aleppo was destroyed during the war. Returning would mean he'd have to start his life all over again. "They'll take my papers, but I need to find out about my son," he says. "I might die of hunger, but maybe I'll just sleep on the streets there."

As one father contemplated a return to Syria, two sisters packed their bags and quickly got out.

Sisters Aseel, 26, and Aya, 23 – both engineering students – filled their pink and purple roller bags with books and holiday decorations for Christmas. They asked NPR to only use their first names because they're not yet sure what their Christian faith may mean under Syria's new authorities.

They're elated to see Bashar al-Assad's oppressive regime gone, but are afraid of what may replace him.

"I'm afraid there won't be respect for all the sects, the minorities, and religions in Syria," Aseel said. "We don't know what kind of oppression there will be."

Assel and Aya plan to wait and see what happens to Syria from the outside.

They are among thousands of others who are waiting in long lines on the Syrian side of the border, who also want to wait and see what exactly will replace Assad's long rule.

But the road into Syria is relatively empty and signs of the revolution are instantly visible.

On the Syrian side of the border, there's no passport control. Military posts are abandoned, scorched trucks and tanks dot the highway heading into Damascus and military uniforms from Assad's soldiers are strewn along the way. Posters of Assad have been torn down or defaced.

Checkpoints are now mostly run by armed rebels, like Samer Muntashef from Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, or HTS. They are the new authorities in Damascus and were once linked to the Islamic State and Al Qaeda, but eventually broke ties and rebranded as a more moderate group.

Today they say what many Syrians may want to hear – that they will lead a peaceful transition of power and that Syrians, no matter their religion or ethnicity, will be protected under their rule.

At one checkpoint just a few miles into Syria, rebels stop cars and confiscate weapons and illicit items from civilians. On this day, they've collected grenades, bullets, the magazine of a rifle, and a bag of Captagon pills, a powerful amphetamine-type drug that was banned from many countries in the 1980s. The Syrian regime produced and trafficked it to fund its civil war and its survival, essentially turning Syria into a narco state.

Remnants of the past are scattered all around them – hundreds of military ID cards of soldiers who served under Assad's regime are on the ground. Many of the rebels at this checkpoint say they're not interested in seeking revenge; they would rather see Assad's soldiers go to court for serving the regime throughout the 13-year civil war that killed more than half a million people, according to the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights.

But Syrians have already started sharing videos of what they say are apparent revenge killings of top Assad loyalists. NPR has not independently confirmed what's in the videos.

In one, a mob watches as a man is hanged in city dominated by Assad's Alawite sect, showing how anger toward the regime runs deep across Syria's religious lines. In another, a man in uniform is shot in the street.

In Damascus there's a certain calm to the city now. It's almost as if people here are holding their their breath. In a place where people have long said the walls had ears, they're beginning to speak freely and are sharing how they really felt about Assad all these years. An era of oppression is gone.

Syrians are now waiting and wondering what will come to replace it.

Copyright 2024, NPR

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