This article is from the source 'nytimes' and was first published or seen
on .
It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.
BEIRUT, Lebanon — The timing of the cease-fire in Syria, which took effect at sundown on Monday, is fraught with symbolism.
BEIRUT, Lebanon — The timing of the cease-fire in Syria, which took effect on Monday at sundown and was largely holding on Tuesday, is fraught with symbolism.
It coincides with Eid al-Adha, the Muslim Feast of the Sacrifice, which commemorates Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son for God. The tale is central to the Muslim, Christian and Jewish faiths — and a recurring literary metaphor in many cultures for society’s sacrifice of the young in the wars of their elders.
It coincides with Eid al-Adha, the Muslim Feast of the Sacrifice, which commemorates Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his son for God. The tale is central to the Muslim, Christian and Jewish faiths — and a recurring literary metaphor in many cultures for society’s sacrifice of the young in the wars of their elders.
Observant Muslims sacrifice sheep for the holiday, often in public, and many Syrians on Monday expressed mixed feelings at seeing animal blood run down gutters in times of human slaughter.
Observant Muslims sacrifice sheep for the holiday, often in public, and many Syrians expressed mixed feelings at seeing animal blood run down gutters in times of human slaughter.
It is unclear how committed the Syrian combatants are to a complicated, multistage plan that was negotiated over their heads. The ceasefire was largely holding Tuesday, with no civilian deaths reported in attacks overnight.
We are tracking the experiences and observations of people in many parts of Syria as the truce changes, or fails to change, their lives. Read more about the terms of the deal here.
Here are the terms of the deal, negotiated by the United States and Russia: All attacks will stop — except for attacks on the Islamic State and groups linked to Al Qaeda. But the public does not know what Russia and the United States have defined as those groups’ territory, and mistrust runs deep.
Samsam, 26, is an aid worker in the government-held western part of Aleppo, which was once Syria’s largest city. She asked to be identified by only a nickname — it means “sesame” in Arabic — because she was not authorized by the government to speak to foreign reporters. She said in a telephone interview from Aleppo, which is divided between the government in the west and the rebels in the east, that residents found cease-fires frightening. When the truces inevitably breakdown, she said, violence escalates, and the halt in fighting also interrupts war’s predictable routine.
If relative calm lasts for seven days, the United States is to begin coordinating with Russia to target Islamic State and Qaeda forces. In return, Russia is to make sure Syrian government warplanes do not fly over opposition areas.
Dr. Omar Abu Mariam, 30, a neurosurgeon, asked to be identified by only his first name and a nickname, for the safety of his family. He is the only neurosurgeon working in the rebel-held part of eastern Aleppo, where many patients with brain injuries die because doctors lack equipment and the evacuation route to Turkey has lately been cut off by shelling.
Here, in the coming days, we will track the experiences and observations of people in many parts of Syria as the truce changes, or fails to change, their lives.
He often operates around the clock and does not expect the cease-fire deal to change that, he said in a text message.
ALEPPO (western section, government-held territory) — This city, the capital of a province by the same name, was once Syria’s largest city. It has been divided between government- and rebel-held districts since 2012. The government roughly holds the west, and the rebels the east, but the lines are far more complicated, like a kind of spiral front line splitting the city into sections resembling a yin and yang.
For Eid, he went to a friend’s house for dinner. His friend had managed to find a sheep to slaughter, though it was more difficult and expensive to come by than usual, and they ate sheep’s liver and honey-soaked baklava, traditional Eid sweets. On the way back, the city was almost pitch black.
The west is more populous, including many people displaced from opposition-held areas. They come seeking safety from warplanes, which only the government has. But rebel shelling can still be deadly. Western Aleppo has better supplies of food, electricity and medicine than the east, but it has also faced shortages, especially of clean water.
“The streets were empty. Dark,” he said. “No fuel for cars. Few generators.”
Samsam, 26, is an aid worker, who asked to be identified by only a nickname — it means “sesame” in Arabic — because she was not authorized by the government to speak to foreign reporters. Shelling in her neighborhood was intense this summer, but when government troops took back a nearby area that insurgents used to launch projectiles, the danger eased, she said in a telephone interview.
The first evening of the truce passed without a call to the emergency room. But when he got home, he could hear explosions in the distance. Surface-to-surface missiles, he speculated.
She said that people have come to find cease-fires frightening, partly because when they break down, violence escalates, but also simply because they interrupt war’s predictable routine.
The doctor wondered if he would make it through another day without heading back to the operating room. “The cease-fire is a big lie,” he said.
ALEPPO (eastern section, rebel-held territory) — The eastern side of Aleppo has been ravaged by intense airstrikes for years. Hospitals there are hit by government airstrikes frequently; in recent weeks, children have been killed or injured on a daily basis. The area has been under on-and-off sieges during the summer, disrupting access to food, water, fuel and adequate medical care.
Ibrahim Abo Allith, one of the volunteer rescue workers with the White Helmets, also known as the Syria Civil Defense, recounted a tense prelude to the planned cease-fire in Aleppo. According to unconfirmed reports from Mr. Allith and other activists on the ground, there were barrel bomb attacks on Monday in the neighborhood of al-Shokaief in rebel-held eastern Aleppo.
Dr. Omar Abu Mariam, 30, a neurosurgeon, asked to be identified by only his first name and a nickname, for the safety of his family. He is the only neurosurgeon working in rebel-held Aleppo, where many patients with brain injuries die because doctors lack equipment and the evacuation route to Turkey has lately been cut off by shelling.
Dani Qappani, 28, graduated from Damascus University with a degree in English literature in 2011, the first year of the revolt against President Bashar al-Assad’s government. Mr. Qappani became an antigovernment media activist in Moadhamiyeh, a suburb less than two miles from downtown Damascus, the Syrian capital. He uses a pseudonym for his safety to post videos.
Even the less severe cases he treats can be heart-rending, like Khaled, 8 months old, who suffered a skull fracture in a missile strike. He shared the boy’s picture, below, on Friday, hours after the cease-fire was announced, saying doctors did not know where his mother was, “if she made it.”
Mr. Qappani writes poems and notes about politics on Facebook. He is worried about divisions in the Moahdhamiyeh, between those who want to accept reconciliation with the government and others, like him, who do not. Here’s how he described the situation in an online chat:
He often operates round the clock and does not expect the cease-fire deal to change that, he said in a text message.
“It’s a bit better today,” he said on Tuesday in a text message. “I can hear music being played in the Eid square.”
For Eid, he went to a friend’s house for dinner. His friend had managed to find a sheep to slaughter, more difficult and expensive to come by than usual, and they ate sheep’s liver and honey-soaked baklava, traditional Eid sweets. On the way back, the city was almost pitch black, with electricity long gone and generators out of fuel.
Khaled Khalifa, 52, is an author well known for his novel “In Praise of Hatred,” about the Muslim Brotherhood uprising in 1982 and the government’s crackdown. In the dark hours of Monday morning, he posted on his public Facebook page about his plans for Eid in Damascus.
The first evening of the truce passed without a call to the emergency room. But when he got home, he could hear explosions in the distance. Surface-to-surface missiles, he speculated. Residents had reported several attacks on the city by government helicopters, and his colleagues at the hospital said in separate text messages that they could hear artillery bombardment and machine-gun fire from warplanes overhead. The doctor wondered if he would make it through another day without heading back to the operating room.
Ibrahim Abo Allith, one of the volunteer rescue workers with the so-called White Helmets, also known as the Syria Civil Defense, recounted a tense prelude to the planned cease-fire in Aleppo. According to unconfirmed reports from Mr. Allith and other activists on the ground, there were barrel bomb attacks on Monday in the neighborhood of al-Shokaief.
He is married, with one child he hopes someday to raise in safety.
MOADHAMIYEH (Rebel-held territory) — This suburb less than two miles from downtown Damascus has been through the worst of the war: years of siege and starvation, with on-and-off truces with the government of President Bashar al-Assad. It was one of the areas hit with chemical weapons in August 2013. Now, tense negotiations are underway for a surrender under which rebels and civilians would choose either to go government-held areas or be bused to insurgent-held areas in the north.
Dani Qappani, 28, graduated from Damascus University with a degree in English literature in 2011, the first year of the revolt. He became an antigovernment media activist, using a pseudonym for his safety and posting videos like this one.
Mr. Qappani writes poems and notes about politics on Facebook. He is worried about divisions in the town, between those who want to accept reconciliation with the government and others, like him, who do not. Moadhamiyeh has not been bombed in a few months, but the threat is always there. Here’s how he described the situation in an online chat:
He marked the holiday, tersely, with this Facebook post:
And he described his expectations for the cease-fire in a chat:
DAMASCUS (Government-held territory) — In the capital, life is relatively normal – relatively. Occasional rebel shelling from the suburbs has dwindled as the government makes advances and evacuates pockets of fighters who are holding out. Bars and restaurants are open, but there is great economic strain. Checkpoints dot the city, and many men have fled, fearing army conscription.
Khaled Khalifa, 52, is an author well known for his novel “In Praise of Hatred,” about the Muslim Brotherhood uprising in 1982 and the government’s crackdown. In the dark hours of Monday morning, he posted on his public Facebook page about his plans for Eid.
He chatted online about his plans for Eid with the Beirut bureau of The New York Times a short while later:
He chatted online about his plans for Eid with the Beirut bureau of The New York Times a short while later:
BINNISH, Idlib Province (Rebel-held territory) — This northern province was the second to fall out of the government’s control, in early 2015. It is controlled by groups ranging from the Levant Conquest Front, until recently called the Nusra Front and officially affiliated with Al Qaeda, to larger Islamist groups and United States-vetted rebel groups. Idlib has suffered some of the most intense bombing in the government’s Russian-backed air war. Over the weekend, scores of people were killed in an airstrike on a marketplace in the provincial capital.
Elham, 32, has two children and is married to government employee. She woke up to quiet on Tuesday in Damascus, and spoke to a Times reporter, who is identifying her by her first name only for her safety.
Muhammed Najdat Kaddour went there to film the aftermath and interview survivors. He is a 31-year-old with a degree in economics who joined the protests early on, also becoming an antigovernment media activist. In a phone interview on Monday, he described a local Eid celebration (he sent photos, below), his own pessimism about the cease-fire and his distrust of President Assad and President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia:
Muhammed Najdat Kaddour, 31, went to Binnish, in rebel-held territory in Idlib Province, to film the aftermath of an airstrike over the weekend and to interview survivors. In a phone interview on Monday, he described a local Eid celebration (he sent photos, below) and his own pessimism about the cease-fire and his distrust of President Assad and President Vladimir V. Putin of Russia:
Bashar al-Suleiman, 29, taught in a government elementary school in a village north of Raqqa until the Islamic State took over and made the city the de facto capital of its self-declared caliphate. Now he stays home except to shop for groceries. He spoke in a call over the internet.
