In Nayrb, a battered rural town east of Idlib city, Ahmed Al Ahmed’s name has travelled fast, spoken in Syrian homes and in phone calls that cross continents.
The footage from Sydney showing an unarmed man tackling a gunman on a crowded beach landed here not as distant news but as something intensely personal. For a community shaped by war, it felt like a moment of recognition.
“We are proud of Ahmed,” Mohamed Al Ahmed, his cousin, told The National near the family's house. “He left the village and emigrated years ago … but, given all that we have seen [from the former regime] he acted without hesitating”.
Born in 1981 in Nayrb, Mr Al Ahmed grew up in a close-knit agricultural town that would later be heavily bombed by forces loyal to Bashar Al Assad, and emptied by waves of displacement. During the war, it became a front line area and was accused by Damascus of harbouring “terrorists”. Much of the area was flattened, homes reduced to rubble, families scattered across Idlib, Turkey and beyond.
Yet before the war erupted in 2011, Nayrb was defined by ordinary routines. It sits on Idlib’s open plains, surrounded by wheat fields and seasonal crops, its narrow roads linking it to nearby villages and to Idlib city.
“Ahmed used to live with us,” said another of his cousins, Ahmad Al Ahmed, 33. “We walked home together. We spoke the village dialect. We played together. We lived beautiful days.”
Mr Al Ahmed emigrated to Australia in search of work in around 2006, long before Idlib became the centre of Syria’s rebellion. Like many young men from rural areas, he carried with him the expectation that he would one day return. The war erased that possibility. His family home was later destroyed by regime bombing, another address lost in a province where destruction became routine. Today, the house where he grew up still lies in tatters – a scene of desolation all too familiar in Nayrb.
“People scattered,” Mohamed, his cousin, said. “Everyone went wherever they could.”
Idlib itself was transformed. Once marginalised and largely agricultural, it became the main bastion of the rebellion against Assad’s rule, absorbing millions of displaced Syrians from across the country. That experience, the family says, explains what happened on Bondi Beach.
Overnight hero
On Sunday, the father of one was walking along Bondi Beach when he heard gunfire nearby. Fifteen people were killed in the attack, which police say was carried out by a father and son during a Hanukkah event. Amid the chaos, he found himself close to one of the attackers.
“His instinct was to confront the terrorist and take the weapon from him,” Mohamed said.
Mr Al Ahmed wrestled the gunman to the ground and took his weapon. He was shot twice in the process and seriously injured. Video of the moment, which has been widely shared online, shows an unarmed man charging forwards while others fled.
The Australian Prime Minister Anthony Albanese later confirmed that Mr Al Ahmed was the bystander who intervened, saying he took the weapon “at great risk to himself”.
To Australians, he became a hero overnight. A fund-raiser set up in his name raised hundreds of thousands of dollars within hours. In Nayrb, residents told The National they felt a mix of pride and fear – pride in seeing one of their own save civilians, and fear for his health after he risked his life.
Another family member, Muhammad Ahmad Al Ahmed, watched the video from Idlib and struggled to put his emotions into words.
“I am the uncle of Ahmed Al Ahmed, the hero in Australia,” he told The National. “He emigrated to Australia for work. He works in a fruit and vegetable shop there. He is married, has a daughter, and holds Australian citizenship.” His parents, he added, are currently in Australia visiting their son.
“When I saw the video, I witnessed victory,” he said. “It confirmed to me that he is a source of pride, for us, for Syria, for the Arab nation, for Islam and Muslims. It was a heroic act we are proud of.”
A friend of his, Abdul Rahman Muhammad, 30, said Ahmed Al Ahmed was a source of “pride and honour”, because his first instinct was to save innocent lives, regardless of who they were, and where they were from. “This is a humanitarian and heroic act,” he said.
After settling in Australia, Ahmed Al Ahmed gradually built a life. He worked in construction before opening a grocery shop selling fruit and vegetables, a trade that echoed his rural upbringing. Two years ago, he reunited with relatives in Istanbul, visiting with his wife and child, a brief bridge between exile and home.
“He succeeded there,” said his cousin Ahmad. “But he never forgot where he came from.”
