The unsung heroes of Syria’s terrible war

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  Alaa, an ambulance driver, feeds cats in Masaken Hanano in Aleppo. HE buys about $4 of meat everyday to feed about 150 abandoned cats in Masaken Hanano, a neigbourhood in Aleppo that has been abandoned due to the conflict. Hosam Katan / Reuters

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  When the last bakery in Aleppo was destroyed last month in air raids, there were unconfirmed reports the attack also killed the last baker, who had stayed in the city to provide for the people. Karim Al Masri / AFP Photo

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  Residents have fled the ancient Christian town of Maalula, the last place on Earth where Aramaic is spoken, leading to fears the language spoken by Jesus will be lost for ever. Louai Beshara / AFP

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  Syriac Christian Ormia, member of the battalion called the “Female Protection Forces of the Land Between the Two Rivers” fighting the Islamic State group, loads her weapon during a training at their camp in the town of Al Qahtaniyah, near the Syrian-Turkish border. Delil Souleiman / AFP Photo

While the very worst in mankind brings about hatred, violence and death, the devastating circumstances of war also shine a light on the best of humanity. Amid carnage are those who risk life and limb to help others, be that person or animal.

On August 17, a dazed five-year-old boy sitting inside an ambulance, bloodied and covered in dust, became the latest human face of the Syrian war.

After deadly air raids in Aleppo, Omran Daqneesh was pulled out of the rubble along with his family by members of the 3,000-strong rescue team known as The White Helmets.

Footage of him helped to humanise a war that will soon be ­entering its sixth year.

In a region embroiled in conflict, The White Helmets symbolise glimmers of hope and bravery among the chaos. But they are not the only ones risking all in Syria.

In Aleppo, the children’s air ­defence brigade are collecting and burning tyres to confuse Russian bombers, news website AJ+ reported.

Across Syria, housewives, widows and students are picking up arms to protect their families and homes.

One battalion is called the Female Protection Forces of the Land Between the Two Rivers, referring to the Tigris and the Euphrates.

One 36-year-old member and mother of two said she left her hairdressing job to fight ISIL.

“Thinking about my children makes me stronger and more ­determined in my fight against ISIL,” she told news agency Agence France-Presse. “I’m fighting to protect their future.”

Elsewhere countless Syrian individuals and groups are quietly helping wherever and however they can, risking their lives to save the country’s animals, heritage, crafts and woodwork.

When the last bakery in Aleppo was destroyed last month in air raids, there were unconfirmed reports the attack also killed the last baker, who had stayed in the city to provide for the people.

Until last month, Mohammed Alaa Aljaleel drove a beaten-up ambulance around Aleppo looking for people who needed saving from beneath the rubble.

The former electrician also cares for more than 100 stray cats and kittens, earning himself the title Il Gattaro d’Aleppo (Aleppo’s Cat Man).

“When people left, the cats started coming to me,” he told BBC News. “Some people just left them with me knowing I love cats.”

Last month, after his ambulance was hit in an air raid, he posted that he was safe on his Facebook wall and vowed to keep up his work.

When the war is over, Mr Aljaleel dreams of building a shelter and hospital for his furry friends.

In Aleppo, where there is great difficulty finding food and supplies, Mr Aljaleel finds what he can of rice and meat from the butcher to feed the hungry felines.

He sends photographic updates of some of the pets to the caretakers who fled to Turkey and ­beyond.

“Since all my friends have left, I found new friends in my cats,” he said.

Other Syrian animal lovers have also sprung into action to help and rescue animals, who are often neglected casualties of war.

The Syrian Association for Rescuing Animals (Sara) in Damascus feeds strays and rescue cats and dogs and has also developed educational campaigns for children to teach them to love and not abuse the animals who live on the street.

Animals Syria is another organisation whose members risk their lives to save animals, and who also treat and try to send rescued animals abroad.

“We don’t only rescue, we heal injured strays and offer them new homes when possible,” it said on its Facebook page.

“We have a small modest clinic in Damascus that offers animals all the treatment needed with the minimum equipment we have but with the maximum love we carry in our hearts.”

There are also those trying to preserve Syria’s history and culture, a losing battle on many fronts given that almost all of Syria’s Unesco World Heritage sites have been damaged or destroyed.

That has not stopped a group of scholars, historians, activists and security guards using sandbags and whatever they can find to shield Roman and Byzantine-era mosaics, some of which are 600 years old, from bombs and ­shrapnel.

The members of the ­initiative, a joint effort by people on the ground and an organisation called The Day After – Heritage Protection Initiative (HPI), have been carrying out the dangerous work in places such as the Maarat Mosaic Museum, in Idlib province’s Maarat al Numan.

“We were worried the museum would be targeted, so we managed to raise some money last year and were able to sandbag the museum,” Amr Al Azm, founder and board member of HPI, told Al Jazeera.

Curators and security guards of various museums, including the Aleppo National Museum, were reported to have been sleeping on site to help prevent looting and destruction.

Curator Ammar Kannawi said the world had to do something to help salvage and protect what is left of Aleppo’s and Syria’s cultural heritage.

"What we have is not just for ­Syrians but for the entire human civilisation," he told the Wall Street Journal.

Then there are the carpenters, artists and craftsmen who continue creating their country’s best-known treasures, despite depleted resources and customers.

For 30 years Amin Halaf and his team have produced and sold traditional Syrian handicrafts, including the country’s renowned mother-of-pearl-inlaid furniture and ornate lanterns.

While he had to close his shop in Damascus, he still works with a group of artisans keeping this tradition alive, making the pieces at another location in the city and using an outside network to sell the pieces in Amman, Jordan.

Amin said he estimated that out of 3,000 mother-of-pearl inlayers working in Damascus, only about 10 per cent were left.

The original handmade pieces, once taken for granted and found in souqs across the UAE, are now rare and expensive.

“Even if there is no market,” he said. “I can’t let people down.

“Those carvers, carpenters. I can’t just say, khalas – enough.

“I’m working for them and they need the money. So I think I’m not going to stop.”

Meanwhile, a priest from Syria is trying to keep an ancient language alive through a Facebook page and awareness campaigns.

"Aramaic, which has been transferred from one generation to another for thousands of years through the inhabitants of Maaloula and their collective memory, could die today because the villagers have fled to different destinations as refugees," Monsignor Makarios Wehbi, a priest at Sts Peter and Paul Melkite Catholic Church, in Ottawa, Canada, told the Globe and Mail.

He is from Maaloula, north-east of Damascus and the last place on Earth where the Aramaic language, which Jesus spoke, is still used.

Since the war, Maaloula residents have fled, increasing the risk the language will disappear.

“I haven’t used Aramaic since I fled my village over two years ago, except with my wife and children,” said Jameel, a 45-year-old refugee from Maaloula who is now in Lebanon.

“It will be a very difficult mission for my children and other refugee children of Maaloula to keep it alive for the next generation.”