Outside Raqa, displaced Syrians brace for winter in tents
As dust whips up around them, families from Syria's Raqa ready their tents for the coming winter, still homeless a year after the IS group was expelled from their city.
Tens of thousands fled their homes in and around Raqa in the months that led up to US-backed forces ousting the terrorists from the northern city in October 2017.
One year on, most returned, but thousands of others from destroyed homes remain at a camp for the displaced in Ain Issa, around 50km north of the ravaged city.
Thousands of people whose homes in Raqa were destroyed remain at a camp for the displaced in Ain Issa, a year after the IS group was expelled from their city. (Photo: AFP/Delil Souleiman)
Families still reside in flimsy white tents, often with brightly coloured laundry slung out to dry on their guy ropes.
"We have no means to rebuild our home. If we did, we wouldn't have stayed here," said Batul Sbaka, sitting inside a tent with two children on her lap.
The 32-year-old mother said she returned to see her home in Raqa after she had heard the terrorists had been evicted.
"When I saw my house, I screamed. We used to have two rooms and a kitchen. It was all destroyed," she said.
"At least here we have bread and water - and a tent for shelter," said Sbaka, a black scarf dotted with pink flowers wrapped around her face.
Around the tent where she lives, the camp's inhabitants have been preparing as best they can for the coming winter months and life under canvas.
'NOWHERE TO GO'
Armed with a shovel, a woman was digging a small trench around a tent in a bid to prevent expected rain water from trickling in.
A young man fixed the family tent back into position after it had been hit by a dust storm.
Syria's civil war has killed more than 360,000 people and displaced millions since it started in 2011. (Photo: AFP/Delil Souleiman)
Around 80 per cent of Raqa city lies in ruins today, Amnesty International says, much of it due to air strikes by the US-led coalition.
Outside another tent, Mashhur al-Maajun was sitting in a wheelchair, while his wife rested on a blanket on the ground.
"We lost our home. We have nowhere to go," said the 73-year-old double amputee, dressed in a long grey robe.
"The camp is the only shelter we have," said the old man, who had also lost his vision because of diabetes.
Her hair wrapped in a headscarf, his wife agreed.
"We don't want to live in this camp, but how are we supposed to live in our destroyed home?" she asked.
Syria's civil war has killed more than 360,000 people and displaced millions since it started in 2011 with the brutal repression of anti-government protests.
Making up the daily routine of life at the Ain Issa camp, women examined vegetables on sale at stalls, while others lined up to fill up plastic jerry cans with water.
On the edge of the camp, children played on swings.
Young boys and girls attended class in a tent turned classroom, while others gathered excitedly to receive pens and notebooks.
Some 150,000 people have returned to Raqa since IS was defeated last year, the United Nations estimates.
But camp manager Jalal al-Ayaf says some 4,000 people from Raqa still live in Ain Issa, alongside thousands more displaced from eastern Syria, and he is worried about the coming months.
"The NGOs don't give us anything any more - no food baskets, no sanitation products," he said.
"Some of the tents are worn out."
Inside the camp, residents complain that food deliveries are few and far between, with month-long delays between distributions, including for rice and cooking oil.
But despite such complaints, some say returning to Raqa is too risky.
IS terrorists sowed landmines around the city as they retreated, a legacy that still maims and kills residents to this day.
And there are near daily attacks on checkpoints and military vehicles, according to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights monitor.
Mustafa Abud, 31, said there was no way he would take his three children back to a city still so unsafe.
"We thought everything would be alright after the city was liberated," said the young man in a black shirt.
"But it's no longer the Raqa we know," said Abud, his short dark hair slicked back with gel.
"We just want to live in safety. And right now, the camp is safer."