- Par Nafiseh Kohnavard
- Middle East correspondent
Aysha Moarri says goodbye to her daughter
Aysha Moarri, 45, sobbed as she stroked a padded white body bag in the back of a truck.
“How can you leave me behind? You were the only reason I stayed alive… How can I breathe now?”
Her daughter is inside. Beside her are the bodies of five other members of her family.
It’s another cold and bright followingnoon at the opposition-held Bab al-Hawa border crossing between southern Turkey and northwestern Syria.
Families of Syrian refugees who lost loved ones in the earthquake that struck southern Turkey last week are gathered to help repatriate the bodies.
Around us, the heavy smell of death hangs in the air.
Aysha, her husband Nouman and their four-year-old granddaughter Elma are the only survivors of the collapse of the six-storey building in which they lived.
They have lost two daughters, a son and two granddaughters, and are still looking for their son-in-law.
The family fled the war in Syria eight years ago in hope of a fresh start and took refuge in the city of Antakya in southern Turkey. The city is now in ruins and more than half of its buildings are damaged.
The name of each Syrian victim brought to Bab al-Hawa is written in blue pen on the bags, to ensure that they can be identified once they return home.
“Take good care of each other. My dear Shirin, take care of your brother, your sister and my beloved grandchildren…” Aysha sobs, kissing her daughter’s body through the white fabric.
As she begins to walk away, Aysha’s fingers linger on the truck, obviously not wanting to let go.
Two glass pomegranates
Her husband Nouman bursts into tears at the sight of the truck crossing the border.
“Farewell my darlings… You will all be going home… You will be together…” he said, waving a bandaged hand.
That morning, five more trucks arrived at the border, carrying the bodies of Syrians recovered from the rubble. Some are just wrapped in blankets and others in black body bags.
Among the rubble of the family’s apartment in Antakya, two glass grenades lie perfectly intact on a shelf. A painting is always hung above the table. The rest of the room collapsed.
Wearing a fluorescent yellow safety vest, Ali, who was engaged to Viam, Aysha’s youngest daughter, continues to search the rubble in the hope of finding more bodies.
He shows us where he found Viam. They had been lovers for four years, but it was only a week before the earthquake that he persuaded the girl’s father to accept their engagement.
Ali pulled the lifeless body of his fiancée from the rubble of his collapsed building.
“That night we were still texting each other on WhatsApp until late. We mightn’t sleep,” he says.
Around 4 a.m., he received a text from Viam: “Did you wake up? I had a weird nightmare,” she wrote.
They were in the middle of a video call when the earth started shaking.
“I had just told her that she shouldn’t think regarding this bad dream. And then we said to each other that we loved each other. She was sitting on her bed and laughing quietly,” recalls Ali, who tries hard not to not burst into tears.
“I saw her trying to run but her phone was plugged in which slowed her movement. Then the picture froze. The screen went black.”
A physical trainer with combat training experience with the armed opposition in Syria, Ali was able to protect himself by crawling under his bedroom table.
“When the earthquake ended, I ran out. Our whole neighborhood was devastated. I can’t remember how I walked to the street where she (Viam) lived. It took me twice as long because all the roads were blocked,” Ali said.
When he arrived at the block of flats, a makeshift rescue operation organized by neighbors was already underway. He called some friends to join them. Hours pass and no official help arrives.
Ali says he and his friends come from areas of Syria that were frequently shelled by Syrian government forces during the war, so they have already had some search and rescue training and experience.
Syrians must help Syrians, he adds.
Finding Viam
Part of the quake-affected area is under the control of the Syrian government, and other parts, such as Idlib – where the family is from – are administered by opposition groups.
The coordination of aid and relief missions is therefore very complex and involves many substantive negotiations between the armed groups and the countries that support them in the rest of the world.
Ali resents the international community, saying developed countries are fueling conflicts in Syria, and people are suffering.
“The whole world came to help Turkey and thank God Turkey is a strong country, but what regarding Syria? I don’t want to talk regarding politics but from a humanitarian point of view, we don’t We don’t have electricity, drinking water or even houses,” Ali said.
“Our homes have been devastated by the war, and now by the earthquake. Of course, we accept what comes from God. But I should tell the world that enough is enough. Enough.”
After eight days of searching, Ali found the body of his beloved Viam. She was hugging her brother Mohammed when she died.
Nouman, the father of the family, is prevented from following the truck by his future son-in-law Ali.
Today, with a group of 15 fellow Syrians, Ali is trying to find other Syrian families.
A fine dust of concrete covers them. It’s everywhere here – it makes our eyes grainy and our hair gray.
In the first ten days following the quake, more than 2,306 bodies crossed the Syrian border, according to Turkish authorities.
Turkish border police, who can speak only on condition of anonymity, tell us that this operation was massive and difficult to coordinate. Sometimes the rescuers are ready to send the bodies but we are not ready to receive them on the other side of the border – and vice versa.
As we prepare to leave, we see a man cuddling the body of his 25-day-old baby wrapped in a small blanket, asking for help to bring his body home to a part of Idlib province held by the opposition.
The Moarri family finally found the last person they were looking for – the body of their son-in-law – ten days following the earthquake.
I asked Ali why Syrian refugees send the bodies of their families to Syria.
“This is our home. This is where we still hope and believe that one day we will return. We want our loved ones to be there waiting for us.”
