5 days ago
Feature: Displaced by division: sectarian rift drives thousands from Syria's Sweida
DARAA/SWEIDA, Syria, July 24 (Xinhua) -- As a fragile coexistence in southern Syria unraveled into chaos, sectarian violence between Druze fighters and Arab Bedouin tribes tears both communities apart, forcing families to flee their homes in search of safety.
Under the blistering sun in the southern village of Nahtah in the countryside of Daraa province, makeshift beds line the dusty classrooms of a shuttered rural school now serving as a shelter for Bedouin families fleeing the violence in the nearby Sweida province, where deadly clashes between Druze fighters, Bedouin tribal militias and authorities' forces claimed the lives of over 1,386 from all sides so far.
Bedouin women in dark robes sit on tattered blankets, their children nestled against them as they try to ward off the stifling summer heat.
"I'm 70, and I've never seen anything like this," said Umm Khaled, a displaced Bedouin woman from the city of Shahba in the countryside of Sweida. "They (Druze fighters) attacked us without warning. We were forced to flee to the outskirts." Her voice trembled as she recalled the chaos.
"We stayed in the open overnight until some of the village elders brought us into the mosque. But even there, the shooting didn't stop. They ordered us to leave. Eventually, they pushed us out, and we ended up in this school."
She glanced around the packed classroom, then added, "We don't know what awaits us. We're here now, but we have no idea where to go next."
According to the governor of Daraa, Anwar al-Zoubi, over 3,700 people -- mostly Arab Sunni Bedouin families -- have been displaced from Sweida to Daraa since the outbreak of violence on July 13.
Most of the displaced fled without warning, as negotiations between the warring sides reached a stage allowing people to leave.
Hazem al-Midani, a resident of Shahba in his 30s, described how quickly the situation spiraled out of control. "There was a ceasefire agreement with the state, and we were given two hours to leave the city," he said. "While we were getting ready, within 10 minutes, they attacked our homes."
On the other side of the conflict, the Druze community in Sweida has suffered immensely from the latest round of unprecedented violence.
Sweida city now resembles a ghost town -- shops ransacked, streets littered with debris, and once-safe neighborhoods transformed into sites of bloodshed and carnage. A province that had largely been spared during Syria's 14-year war is now witnessing one of its darkest chapters.
People there also found themselves forced to flee their homes and seek refuge in schools, those structures that were supposed to host children for building the future of their country.
In the village of Shanira in Sweida's countryside, displaced families sleep on desks and cement floors. Water is scarce, food minimal. Outside, men sit in silence, avoiding eye contact with visitors. Inside, mothers try to calm their children.
Among them is Raed Fawz Eddin, a 40-year-old father of three from Sweida. "Never in our lives did we think we'd go through something like this -- to be displaced from our homes, from our town, to be wronged, to be killed," he said.
His ordeal deepened when armed Bedouin men confronted him. "They put a gun to my head, demanding to know where the men were hiding, or they'd kill us," he recalled. "My mother begged them and cried so much just so they would let me go."
His mother, Umm Bassam, now in her 80s, broke down in tears. "Three days without food or anything to eat," she said. "They came in, threatening us, asking for weapons, but we had none. They made us kneel on the ground. Look at me -- I'm a woman of this age."
From the outskirts of Kanaker, another displaced Druze civilian, Qasem Diab, described the harrowing assault on his neighborhood.
"The armed men attacked the area and came very close to my house... They threw us on the ground and pointed guns at our heads. If it hadn't been for my mother, my wife, and my kids pleading, I don't know what would have happened to me. They kicked us out of our homes and burned them right in front of our eyes."
His journey was no easier than his trauma. "The journey was exhausting. We slept on rooftops, in schools... Eventually, we made it here. We hope this village remains safe... There are no homes to go to, no food, no water, no clothing. We were displaced with nothing but what we wore."
For Qasem, the pain runs deeper than displacement. "It's a shame for Syrians to fight each other. What's happening is a great tragedy. We've always loved each other. From east to west, from north to south -- we've always been one people."
As humanitarian organizations begin assessing needs on the ground, the long-term fate of these families remains unclear. Many say they will not return to Sweida without clear guarantees for safety and accountability. The ceasefire may have silenced the guns, but the wounds of division, loss, and exile will take much longer to heal.
According to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, the death toll from the recent violence in Sweida is likely to rise due to ongoing verification efforts and reports of missing persons. A tense calm has largely prevailed since Monday under a U.S.-brokered ceasefire, though sporadic violations and threats of renewed conflict persist.
