Inside Syria's bombed-out Idlib countryside: Free from Assad but destroyed by 13 years of war

Many in the rebel bastion stood their ground to endure an assault by regime forces in 2019 but eventually fled approaching soldiers

Many Syrians from the countryside south-east of Idlib city voice a similar refrain; for years they were bombed by the Assad regime but they endured and moved on with life, until everything changed in 2019.

That year president Bashar Al Assad's troops were advancing on the rebel-held area, with fear spreading through its rural towns and villages over the fate awaiting regime opponents should the region fall. While Idlib city itself became a refuge of the rebels, the surrounding countryside bears the scars of a front line in the battle.

“The people are used to rebuilding,” said Alaa Sufi, 38, from Ma’arat Al Nu’man, a city about 30km south of Idlib that was levelled. "We would be bombed and remove the rubble then go back.

“The destruction is indescribable. Look, there is not any sign of life ... the criminal Assad regime destroyed everything. But we are happy because the regime is overthrown,” he told The National outside the city's Umayyad Mosque, which is pocketed by bullet marks.

As Mr Al Assad's soldiers moved closer, millions escaped to urban Idlib – north-western Syria's last pocket of rebel resistance – from where the rebels would launch their offensive last month that toppled the Al Assad family's 54-year rule.

The wider Idlib governorate came under repeated bombardment, leaving many towns flattened. A ceasefire from a 2020 agreement between the rebels' largest backer, Turkey, and Mr Al Assad's biggest military supporter, Russia, stemmed the violence somewhat, but reminders of the war remain.

Khaled Shabib, left, with Ahmed Mustafa Shabib, two of the few locals to have returned to the village of Hantoteen, Idlib governorate. Jamie Prentis / The National

Mustafa Ibrahim, another former resident of Ma’arat Al Nu’man, said almost everyone fled the area, with houses now standing empty and stripped of even their bare essentials.

"When the air strikes happened, we would remove the rubble and move on," he told The National. "But eventually we left with only our clothes, nothing else."

The 2020 ceasefire deal led to a stalemate of sorts, even if bombing campaigns were constant from the Assad regime. The area, stripped of everything with even the olive trees cut down, became a no-man's land, populated by neither side.

Hantoteen is a largely anonymous village typical of this predicament. Moulds of earth, broken through for soldiers to hide, hint at it being a frontline village. So, too, do the walls of rocks erected by troops for protection. Vehicles can now pass through the area but not much is left.

Of about 900 families who lived in the village, only three have returned, said Ahmed Mustafa Shabib, 25. He was busy digging foundations for a new home for the owners of a plot of land, who live in Turkey, when he spoke to The National.

Like everyone else, Mr Shabib fled Hantoteen in 2019. But he returned immediately after the fall of Mr Al Assad last month and has been staying at his cousin's house in the village. His cousin was killed in the Assad advance.

“I was full of happiness ... it is better than when you get married,” he said of his return. “We’ve been back since the liberation and haven't left. We couldn’t imagine that we would be back one day but with God's help nothing is impossible.”

In another town, Al Ghadfa, which was taken by the regime in 2019, homes have been raided of everything and even items in the mosque removed.

The remains of the centre of Saraqib, Idlib governorate. Jamie Prentis / The National

On Fridays, prayers are no longer carried out inside the mosque but on a patch of grass opposite, attended by a couple of dozen worshippers outside charred homes, scarred by the war.

Houthayfa Hamoud, 23, recounted a day in December 2019 that would change his life. “I was riding my bike from here. I heard on the wireless device that the air strike was about to hit."

A bombing, believed to have been carried out by Russia, struck a nearby building. “I was injured severely. Many buildings and houses were destroyed," Mr Hamoud said.

He suffered wounds to his chest and leg, and has a gaping scar on his wrist from the attack, which threw him into the air then to the ground, with his motorbike landing on top of him.

“I tried to pull myself up, but I realised the blood was coming out of my mouth," he told The National. "My left lung was damaged. I thought it would be my last moment.

“I shouted for help … suddenly some guys from the neighbourhood took me to the nearest hospital ... I received 11 surgeries.

"But I'm here again. I'm safe.”