Amid the rubble of destroyed homes and the eerie silence of villages that once pulsed with life, hundreds of thousands of Syria’s displaced are desperate to return to their homes, now that Assad is gone and after years of war that have irrevocably altered the landmarks and features of their beloved country.
In cities like Aleppo, Idlib, Damascus, and its rural suburbs, the scars of the war are visible everywhere: streets reduced to ruins and once spacious homes now grey mounds of rubble.
For those fortunate enough to return, they may find their homes missing walls, roofs, doors, and windows; for the unfortunate, however, their homes have vanished altogether.
As a result of these overwhelming circumstances, Syria’s internally displaced persons (IDPs) face a bitter dilemma: either they continue living the gruelling life of an IDP in their tattered, threadbare tents or return to their demolished homes, where unexploded mines pose a threat to life and limb, and the basic essentials of life are absent.
Cherished homes reduced to wreckage
One IDP who made the decision to return to her home in the southern countryside of Idlib province is Salma Al Sultan.
She shared her story with The New Arab, explaining that returning home is not simply a choice but a journey fraught with dangers.
She describes the psychological toll of encountering devastation where cherished memories once existed: homes that once served as warm and loving havens are now reduced to ruins, and the walls that once offered protection are now piles of cracked stones, unfit for living.
Salma reflects, “I returned to my village after years of displacement, only to find nothing but wreckage. My home has become a pile of stones, and the streets I played in as a girl are now full of landmines. This isn’t the return I dreamed of.”
She goes on to explain that most of the houses in her village are damaged and need extensive restoration, with many beyond repair due to serious cracks in their remaining walls and the risk of collapse at any moment.
“When I reached my village, I felt I’d made a mistake – this wasn’t the place I’d left. I found nothing but destruction and desolation; even the path to my house was a deathtrap. I felt every step could be my last. I’m living in constant fear – I can’t let my children play in front of the house because I’ve heard of children losing their limbs due to landmines,” she says.
War’s deadly detritus: Unexploded landmines
Unsurprisingly, the threat of unexploded landmines and other ordnance left behind from years of war remains a deadly, silent killer.
As human rights organisations have long reported, Syria is one of the most mine-contaminated countries in the world, leading to the deaths and injuries of thousands of civilians, mostly children and farmers.
Mohammed Al Abd, another IDP who returned to his village in southern Idlib, shared the heartbreaking loss of his son, who was killed by a landmine explosion in their village.
“I was happy to return, but my joy turned to horror when a mine exploded under my little son. We’d thought the yard in front of our house was safe, but I was wrong. It was just one step, and we heard the explosion,” he says, adding, “Nothing can compensate me for his loss.”
He describes the mines as the “spectres” of the war that refuse to leave, posing a serious challenge to anyone trying to return, as they are hidden in fields, on roads, and even inside homes.
Mohammed also adds that many, particularly farmers, have lost their lives or been left permanently disabled by mines, and despite efforts to remove them, their widespread presence and the lack of resources or mine-removal experts make the task nearly impossible.
Recent figures, for example, show that, between 27 November 2024 and 4 January 2025, the Syria Civil Defence (or White Helmets) reported that 32 people had been killed or injured in different areas due to exploding landmines and other unexploded ordnance left by the war in Syria.
In addition to these figures, it has also reported that, between 1 December 2024 and 3 January 2025, mine-removal teams destroyed 822 unexploded munitions — mostly cluster munitions — and identified over 80 sites contaminated with unexploded ordnance left behind by the former regime in various regions of Syria.
‘Totally cut off from everything’
Aside from landmines, returnees face additional challenges in securing basic essentials and services, as the infrastructure of many towns and villages has been decimated. In many areas, there is no electricity, clean water, schools, or functioning hospitals.
Yasser Abu Saleh, an IDP who returned to his town in east Aleppo province, says, “We returned because we could no longer bear the life of displacement. But here we are, living among ruins, without water or electricity. Even buying food is a daily struggle — it’s as though we are totally cut off from everything.”
In saying this, Yasser notes that he returned to the home where he was born, but it was nothing like he had left it — there was no roof, no windows, and all the furniture that hadn’t been looted was blackened and burned.
In his own words, he says he felt like a stranger in his own home, remarking that even the walls seemed to reject him.
“We returned empty-handed — no one helped us. Despite that, I took some wood to cover a section of the roof and tried to fix the door. We want nothing more than to live with dignity, but life here is hard, and we are fighting to survive,” Yasser adds.
He also highlights that, though life is tough and his family is living in a single room with no doors and rain pouring through the roof, he sees it as preferable to the homelessness they endured before returning.
Mother-of-three Hanna Al Basha, who returned after years of forced displacement to her destroyed home in eastern Ghouta, Damascus, shares similar struggles.
“My children haven’t been to school in years. We returned to our town, but the schools are either destroyed or closed due to the lack of teachers. Even food is a problem, as the markets are practically empty, and the prices are so high. I feel like we’ve moved from the suffering of displacement to a new phase of suffering,” she comments.Â
Holding on to hopeÂ
Despite the overwhelming challenges, many IDPs have insisted on returning, driven by a strong yearning to go home and the hope of rebuilding their lives.
Currently, local and international humanitarian organisations are trying to provide assistance, but the need far exceeds their capacity, especially after the recent drop in international funding due to the US decision.
Human rights activist Samer al-Ahmed emphasises the urgency of support, stating, “Return must be safe and dignified, and no one should be forced to return to an environment which isn’t fit to live in. There needs to be real international support for reconstruction, landmine clearance, and the restoration of essential services; otherwise, there will be no meaningful return in the near future.”
He also explains that, in the current reality, stories of resilience are emerging, with men and women working hard to “bring life” back to what remains of their towns and villages.
That said, despite these efforts, the reality remains that returning is extremely risky. There is a desperate need for real support, alongside reconstruction plans, to ensure a safe and secure life for people.
Yet, in spite of the pain and trauma, hope remains alive in the hearts of the displaced, who have lost both their homes and years of their lives.
They hold onto the hope that the future will be kinder than the years of suffering they endured during the war and displacement, but until that future materialises, the search for security continues, caught between the ruins of yesterday and the dreams of tomorrow.
Hadia Al Mansour is a freelance journalist from Syria who has written for Asharq Al-Awsat, Al-Monitor, SyriaUntold and Rising for Freedom Magazine
Article translated from Arabic by Rose Chacko
