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The smell of paint lingers in the air, a wall still tacky from its application. In the Palestinian neighbourhood of Yarmouk near Syria's capital Damascus, a graffiti mural shows a man wearing a keffiyeh around his neck, holding a decapitated, blood-covered child in his arms.
The caption reads: "The Massacre of Rafah", in reference to a deadly Israeli attack in May that killed dozens in the Rafah camp, where many of Gaza’s displaced population have sought refuge - a powerful reminder of the compassion of Palestinian refugees in Syria for Gazans’ suffering.
The graffiti was finished just before the ceasefire between Hamas and Israel was announced on Wednesday, Mohamed Khaled, 30, a butcher of Palestinian origin whose shop is next to the mural, said. The truce, which is expected to take effect on January 19, is set to end 15 months of a devastating war in which more than 46,700 Palestinians have died in Israeli bombings in response to an attack by the militant group Hamas on southern Israel in which 1,200 people were killed and 240 taken hostage.
“The ceasefire has stopped the blood from flowing. When you see children dying, tens of thousands of people dying, it’s impossible not to be emotionally impacted,” Mr Khaled said.
Like most refugees in the camp, he is a descendant of Palestinians who fled during the Nakba (the "catastrophe" in Arabic), which refers to the forced displacement of Palestinians after the creation of Israel in 1948. Mr Khaled has never been to Palestine, but it remains part of his identity. “I’m optimistic for both my countries, Syria and Palestine,” he said.
Both the end of Bashar Al Assad’s brutal rule after a stunning offensive led by rebel groups in December, and the Gaza ceasefire, have brought unprecedented hope for Palestinians in Syria. “Now, I am happy,” Rabih Abou Hmeideh, 45, another resident of Yarmouk said. “We’re still unemployed and lack everything but at least now it’s with joy,” he added with a smile.
Many in the camps still have family in Palestine. Several posters of fighters from the Palestinian Islamic Jihad who were killed in Gaza have been plastered on the walls by their relatives.
But celebration after the announcement remains subdued in the camp, once the largest Palestinian refugee camp in the Middle East and home to over 150,000 Palestinians, but now mostly deserted after years of sieges and heavy bombing as control of the area changed hands in brutal fashion. Demonstrations of joy were limited to some celebratory gunfire.
Residents explain that this is because the multiple and opposing Palestinian factions in Syria, which usually lead big events, have been muted by Syria’s new leadership, led by the rebel group Hayat Tahrir Al Sham (HTS). Relations between Palestinian factions in Syria and the regime have historically been complicated.
Hamas mended its ties with Mr Al Assad in recent years, after initially siding with the Syrian opposition’s revolution, while other Palestinian factions supported the regime. “Palestinian factions have been disorganised since the fall of the regime, because we don’t know how HTS will treat them,” said Mr Khaled.
While Palestinian refugees in Syria rejoiced at the Gaza ceasefire, Israel has ramped up its assaults on Syria since the downfall of the regime, seizing large areas of southern Syria, bombing weapon depots, and, on Wednesday, killing three people in a drone attack on a military convoy belonging to the new Syrian authorities.
Besieged enclaves
In the devastated Yarmouk camp, residents say their empathy for the suffering of Gazans is deepened by their own experiences of war. Yarmouk, like Gaza, was turned into a prison after the camp fell to rebel forces in 2012, with no escape, no food and no hope.
The merciless siege imposed by the Syrian government trapped thousands of civilians and caused widespread starvation, which Amnesty International said at the time was used by Syrian forces “as a weapon of war”. Reports said that besieged civilians had no choice but to eat cats and dogs.
“There’s no difference between the suffering in Gaza and Syria. I suffered just like the people there. But at least in Gaza, the people knew who their enemies were,” said Taufiq Youssef Falah, 60, a Palestinian refugee who stayed through the sieges.
To him, Bashar Al Assad's vocal support for the Palestinian cause was deceptive, as evidenced by the suffering of Palestinian refugees in Yarmouk. “Bashar Al Assad claimed they were part of the resistance axis, but that was never the case.”
The so-called Axis of Resistance is a coalition led by Iran, which included Syria's former regime, along with other groups such as Hamas and Hezbollah in Lebanon, to oppose Israel and the United-States. Mr Falah said he was arrested by the government forces because he looked like a fighter. “I wasn’t with anyone”. Two of his brothers died of starvation.
In 2015, ISIS fighters took control of the camp, which was then recaptured by the Syrian forces in 2018. More than six years later, it feels as if the fighting only stopped yesterday. Bomb-shattered buildings and mostly empty streets offer scenes of desolation.
Some of the camp’s former residents have returned for the first time in years, after 13 years of civil war ended with Mr Al Assad's fall. The entrance, tightly controlled under the regime, is now easily accessible. Years have passed, but trauma lingers.
“I lived through the siege, I lived through the siege,” a woman repeated, with obvious emotion. She said she wanted to speak under the pseudonym Laila, as she remains afraid to talk about what happened.
“The whole street was filled with snipers. It was full of snipers. We wouldn’t dare go outside. It lasted for years with no food; I remember now,” she said.
Throughout the years, the siege was sometimes interrupted to allow the delivery of food and aid. Laila remembered harrowing scenes. “We walked, pressed close to each other, searching for those aid boxes”. Her voice and demeanour grew increasingly agitated as the memories resurfaced.
“Listen to me. Once, a woman dropped her box, and the snipers fired at her. She died. People ran to grab the food; the box was covered in her blood. We called it the box of death,” she said. “Now I remember: death, death, death. We called it the street of death, not the street of Yarmouk. And the boxes we received were the boxes of death”.
Laila said she was on her way to check for aid distribution, but that she did not find any: years later, she is still relying on aid boxes. “We came out of the siege dead inside. I feel I’m 100 years old, we're exhausted,” she said.
