As the first Ramadan begins in a Syria free of the Assad dynasty’s 54-year stranglehold on power, one group will not be celebrating their new-found freedom in this holy month of fasting.
In Quneitra, 60km southwest of Damascus, Ramadan decorations are nowhere to be seen. There are no flags, lanterns, or streaming lights in the shape of crescent moons and stars hanging in the balconies or shop windows. There are no heaps of nuts and dried fruit at the grocers, nor queues of shoppers waiting to stock up to prepare for iftar feasts.
“Although decorations are an acquired custom, people here have adopted it in recent years to express joy at the arrival of Ramadan, but the poor financial conditions made it difficult this year,” says Sheikh Mohammed Al-Doumani, Imam of Hafsa Mosque in Khan Arnabah, Quneitra’s capital.
But the dire economic conditions are the least of the concerns of some 35,000 residents of 17 villages thrown into the limelight when Israeli forces occupied part of the 400-square-kilometre UN-patrolled buffer zone between Syria and Israel.
When resistance fighters led by Syria’s interim president Ahmed Al-Sharaa toppled Bashar al-Assad in a lightning offensive early December 2024, Israel advanced its military under the pretext of protecting its borders from armed Hezbollah fighters and Iranian militias.
Israel’s move violated the 1974 disengagement agreement with Syria, expanding its control over the territory, most of which has been occupied since 1967.
On Sunday, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu called for the “demilitarisation” of southern Syria, saying Israel “will not allow the new Syrian army to move into territory south of Damascus” just as the new leadership attempts to consolidate control through a national dialogue.
Earlier this month, The Washington Post reported that the Israeli army is constructing a series of permanent military settlements in several Syrian villages under its occupation, further entrenching its control over the region.
Destruction, fear and poverty
The Israeli incursion, which reached Yarmouk Valley in Daraa, approximately 110km south of the Syrian capital, damaged vital water, electricity and telecommunications infrastructure, upending the idyllic lives of the villagers with blockades, checkpoints and ad hoc curfews.
“They also massacred nature reserves in Jabata Al-Khashab,” one shepherd who preferred to remain anonymous, tells The New Arab, adding that Israeli soldiers cut down 200-year-old trees and threatened shepherds at gunpoint to block their access to grazing land.
“In Kudna,” he continued, “they destroyed almost two thousand hectares of eucalyptus, almond, and pine trees.”
Wissam Al-Younis, the owner of the Al-Younis grocery store chain, tells The New Arab that he no longer stocks the store up as he used to in the past.
“I cut down because clients who had purchasing power like members of the disbanded army and police, went back to their original home towns,” he says.
Abu Hani, a wholesale dealer and one of the elders of Ofania village, says he too had to cut down on supplies, adding that because the Israeli military destroyed the roads, and deploys armored patrols across the newly occupied areas, residents of neighboring villages are both afraid and unable to travel to buy their needs.
“Arbitrary curfews are also imposed, sometimes from as early as 5 pm to 6 am the next day,” he adds.
Mohammed Al-Tahan agrees that the situation is catastrophic, especially in the village of Kudna, where he is from.
The 30-year-old unmarried farmer who is the sole breadwinner of his household of five siblings and mother, says that the Israeli incursion has besieged the region.
“It’s as if we went back in time over 1440 years during the time of Prophet Muhammad and his companions,” Al-Tahan tells The New Arab.
“It’s embarrassing because sometimes we only have yogurt, olives and makdous which used to be a side dish, but is now the main meal”
Because the roads were destroyed, Kudna is now cut off from the capital of Quneitra, he explains. The only daily transportation service available to Khan Arnabah is one small bus that leaves in the morning and returns at noon.
“Only the wealthy who own a car can use alternative routes to go to Jasim city in Daraa Governorate to buy household necessities. Those who can’t, must manage with what is available in the three small village grocery stores,” he says.
“The water shortage is a whole other crisis,” says Al-Tahan.
Israel’s destruction of water pipelines has forced each household to buy a weekly supply at a cost of approximately SYP150,000, adding an extra burden which did not exist before the occupation, he says.
Um Zeid, mother of four, who prefers not to mention her first name, is a retired English teacher from Khan Arnabah.
“It’s customary to stock up for Ramadan,” she tells The New Arab. “We would store meat, chicken, rice, and special Ramadan treats, but this year, with little cash, we live day-to-day.”
Um Zeid’s husband is also a retired teacher, and between them their monthly pension is SYP 400,000 (about USD 30-40) which “doesn’t go far,” she says.
The family have not only given up on small luxuries like new decorative juice glasses, but also on basics like proteins, dairy products, cheese, and oil.
Even country folk who raise sheep and cattle like Um Maysaa from Taranja village, which was stormed by Israeli soldiers early February, struggle to get other supplies.
“In the summer we stock up on labneh and cheese because we own livestock, but we can’t secure the rest of our needs like oil, vegetables, rice, and other household essentials necessary all year, let alone Ramadan,” Um Maysaa told The New Arab.
Ramadan – the month of generosity
“During Ramadan, no one sleeps on an empty stomach and no one is left behind,” 70-year-old Um Fayez tells The New Arab.
She explains the age-old Syrian tradition of “al-sakbeh” whereby each household would send a plate of food to the neighbors.
“I never cooked in a small pot,” she says, “the food I made was enough for the entire neighborhood. But today, I think a thousand times before inviting my children to iftar, and even then, we must share the cost to bring the family together for a Ramadan meal.”
Everyone is struggling to survive, she says. “It’s embarrassing because sometimes we only have yogurt, olives and makdous [oil-cured aubergine] which used to be a side dish, but is now the main meal.”
The “al-ashiyeh” tradition may also become a thing of the past, says an elder from Kudna village.
As charity in memory of the souls of the dead, each family would slaughter what they can afford of livestock, cook it, invite relatives and neighbors to iftar, and distribute food across the rest of the village.
“This communal tradition is under threat today,” says the elder. “The generous don’t have the means, and those who have the means aren’t generous.”
Abu Hani, the elder from Ofania, adds that the presence of the Israeli enemy is an obstacle to these gatherings.
“Soldiers patrol the villages day and night, putting everyone in danger, as we don’t know when they will storm the next home, or impose a curfew,” says Abu Hani.
No security, no supplies
Even though Quneitra’s residents were already destitute before the fall of Assad, the Israeli occupation dealt the final blow, especially since the region is almost entirely cut off from the rest of the country.
In a meeting of Quneitra’s elders with a delegation from the Red Crescent at the Quneitra cultural center on Sunday, the elders complained about the bread shortages as no supplies have entered the region for weeks. Even ambulances are barred from entering the village by occupation soldiers, who pose a constant threat against freedom of movement.
“Unemployment, a failed harvest and lack of pastures for livestock have caused a crisis,” says one of the elders, adding that the Israeli restrictions and arbitrary attacks on private homes under the pretext of weeding out armed fighters, forecasts a muted Ramadan.
Despite their dire need, residents have reportedly rejected any aid from the Israeli occupation forces, stating that they would not accept assistance from an entity that occupies their land.
“The Israelis stop bread from entering the village according to their mood,” said an elder from Kudna, noting that at one point the village was under siege for three days.
“We had no means of survival other than what we had stocked in the summer… so how would we survive Ramadan when we must even buy water?” he says.
“But it is not only bodies that will suffer this Ramadan,” says Mohammed Al-Doumani, Imam of Hafsa Mosque. “If the Israelis are restricting the arrival of vital aid supplies, will they allow nightly communal tarawih prayers?”
Al-Tahan is also sceptical.
“All rituals and customs are subject to the soldiers’ mood. In the past, families and neighbours used to gather until right before dawn, can we do that this Ramadan?” he asks. “Fear dominates our villages and homes.”
In the meantime, Um Zeid, determined to capture the joy of the holy month which she eagerly anticipates each year, says she will recycle old pieces of fabric and cardboard containers to make Ramadan decorations.
“I will find a way to bring the spirit of Ramadan to my home,” she says.
Hoda Matar is an independent journalist in Syria’s Quneitra
The article is published in collaboration with Egab
