
Syria's Druze find bodies in the streets while searching for loved ones after days of clashes
Her mother, father and sister sent videos of their neighbors fleeing as fighters moved in. The explosions from shelling were non-stop, hitting near their house. Her family took shelter in the basement. When she reached them later in a video call, they said her father was missing. He had gone out during a lull to check the situation and never returned.
'Now I only pray. That's all I can do,' she told The Associated Press at the time.
Hours later, they learned he had been shot and killed by a sniper. The woman spoke on condition of anonymity fearing that using her name would put her surviving family and friends at risk.
A ceasefire went into effect late Wednesday, easing days of brutal clashes in Sweida. Now, members of its Druze community who fled or went into hiding are returning to search for loved ones and count their losses. They are finding homes looted and bloodied bodies of civilians in the streets.
'Systemic killings'
The fighting began with tit-for-tat kidnappings and attacks between local Sunni Bedouin tribes and Druze militias in the majority-Druze Sweida province. Government forces that intervened to restore order clashed with the Druze militias, but also in some cases attacked civilians.
At least 600 people — combatants and civilians on both sides — were killed in four days of clashes, according to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, a Britain-based war monitor. It said the dead included more than 80 civilians, mostly Druze, who were rounded up by fighters and collectively shot to death in what the monitor called 'field executions.'
'These are not individual acts but systemic,' the Observatory's director Rami Abdul-Rahman told the AP. 'All the violations are there. You can see from the bodies that are all over the streets in Sweida clearly show they're shot in the head.'
In response, Druze militias have targeted Bedouin families in revenge attacks since the ceasefire was reached. Footage shared on Syrian state media shows Bedouin families putting their belongings in trucks and fleeing with reports of renewed skirmishes in those areas. There was no word on casualties in those attacks.
Most of the Syrian Druze who spoke to the AP requested anonymity, fearing they and their families could be targeted.
The Druze religious sect is an offshoot of Ismailism, a branch of Shiite Islam. More than half of the roughly 1 million Druze worldwide live in Syria. The others live in Lebanon and Israel, including in the Golan Heights, which Israel captured from Syria in the 1967 Mideast War and annexed in 1981.
They largely celebrated the downfall in December of Syrian autocrat Bashar Assad but were divided over interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa's Sunni Islamist rule. The latest violence has left the community more skeptical of Syria's new leadership and doubtful of peaceful coexistence.
Gunned down in the street
One Syrian-American Druze told the AP of his fear as he watched the clashes from the United States and tried to account for his family and friends whom he had seen in a recent trip to his native city Sweida.
Despite internet and communications breakdowns, he tracked down his family. His mother and brother fled because their home was shelled and raided, he said. Their belongings were stole, windows shattered. Their neighbors' house was burned down. Two other neighbors were killed, one by shelling, another by stray bullets, he said.
He also pored over online videos of the fighting, finding a harrowing footage.
It showed gunmen in military uniform forcing a number of men in civilian clothes to kneel in the street in a well-known roundabout in Sweida. The gunmen then spray the men with automatic fire, their bodies dropping to the ground. The footage was seen by the AP.
To his horror, he recognized the men. One was a close family friend — another Syrian-American on a visit to Sweida from the U.S. The others were the friend's brother, father, three uncles and a cousin. Friends he reached told him that government forces had raided the house where they were all staying and took them outside and shot them.
While Damascus vowed to hold perpetrators of civilian killings to account, some rights groups accused Syria's interim government of systematic sectarian violence, similar to that inflicted on the Alawite religious minority in the coastal province of Latakia in the aftermath of Assad's fall as the new government tried to quell a counterinsurgency there.
Footage widely circulated on social media showed some of the carnage. One video shows a living room with several bodies on the floor and bullet holes in the walls and sofa.
In another, there are at least nine bloodied bodies in one room of the home of a family that took in people fleeing the fighting. Portraits of Druze notables are visible, smashed on the floor.
Searching for her husband
Evelyn Azzam, a Druze woman, is searching the Damascus suburb of Jaramana, trying to find out what happened to her husband, Robert Kiwan.
Last week, the 23-year-old Kiwan left home in Jaramana early as he does every day to commute to his job in Sweida.
He got caught up in the chaos when the clashes erupted. Azzam was on the phone with him as government forces questioned him and his coworkers. She heard a gunshot when one of the coworkers raised his voice. She heard her husband trying to appeal to the soldiers.
'He was telling them that they are from the Druze of Sweida, but have nothing to do with the armed groups,' the 20-year-old Azzam said.
Then she heard another gunshot; her husband was shot in the hip. An ambulance took him to a hospital, where she later learned he underwent an operation. But she hasn't heard anything since and doesn't know if he survived.
Back in the U.S., the Syrian-American said he was relieved that his family is safe but the video of his friend's family being gunned down in the street filled him with 'disbelief, betrayal, rage.'
He said his family and friends protested against Assad, celebrated his downfall and wanted to give al-Sharaa's rule a chance. He said he hadn't wanted to believe that the new Syrian army — which emerged from al-Sharaa's insurgent forces — was made up of Islamic militants.
But after the violence in Latakia and now in Sweida, he sees the new army as a 'bunch of militias … with a huge majority being radicals.'
'I can't imagine a world where I would be able to go back and integrate with these monsters,' he said.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


The Hill
7 minutes ago
- The Hill
Released Israeli-Argentinian hostage fights for brother still held by Hamas
KFAR SABA, Israel (AP) — As Israel has announced steps to increase humanitarian aid in Gaza, a former Israeli-Argentinian hostage knows first-hand what that could mean for captives of the Hamas militant group. Iair Horn, who spent a year and a half in captivity, said hostages could tell when more aid was available because they would receive more food. 'When there's less food, then there's also less for the hostages. When there's aid, there's a possibility you might get a cucumber,' said Horn, 46. Hamas militants kidnapped Horn from his home at Kibbutz Nir Oz, along with 250 other people, during the group's cross-border attack on Oct. 7, 2023. He was released Feb. 15 after 498 days in captivity. For most of that time, he was held in an underground cell in a tunnel with several other hostages, including his younger brother Eitan Horn, 38. Since his release, Iair Horn has deferred his own recovery to fight for the release of his brother and the other 50 hostages still being held in Gaza, 20 of whom are still believed to be alive. Negotiations collapse again Hearing that negotiations between Israel and Hamas were once again frozen over the weekend was devastating for his family, Horn said. Since his release, he has made four trips to the U.S., where he has met with President Donald Trump and other American leaders to plead for the hostages. He wasn't sure what to make of a comment Thursday by Trump special envoy Steve Witkoff, who said the U.S. would consider 'alternative options' after recalling its negotiating team from Qatar. 'I'm not a politician, and I'm not getting into those things because I don't understand them. What I understand is very simple: I want my brother back,' Horn said. 'My life is frozen right now. I live in a nightmare that every day they are kidnapping me anew,' he said. Horn, who is single, is currently living with family in Kfar Saba, a city near Tel Aviv. Previously, he worked a variety of jobs in Kibbutz Nir Oz, including in education, maintenance and the kitchen. He also ran the kibbutz pub. Every morning when he opens his eyes, he must think for a few moments to remember where he is, to remember he is no longer a hostage, Horn said. He's gained back some of the weight he lost in captivity, but his list of physical and psychological ailments is long. He does not know where he will live, what he will do in the future, or if he will go back to Nir Oz. The only thing he concentrates on is advocating for his brother's release. 'I never imagined that another half year would pass without seeing my little brother,' he said. Israel's war in Gaza has killed more than 59,700 Palestinians, according to Gaza's Health Ministry. The agency's count doesn't distinguish between militants and civilians, but the ministry says that more than half of the dead are women and children. The U.N. and other international organizations see the ministry, which operates under the Hamas government, as the most reliable source of data on casualties. Brothers were held together Iair Horn is the oldest of three brothers who grew up in Argentina. He moved to Israel at age 20, followed by his middle brother, Amos. Eitan and their parents, long divorced, joined later. On Oct. 7, 2023, Eitan was visiting Iair at his home on Kibbutz Nir Oz when the sirens started, warning of incoming missiles. Soon they received text messages alerting them to the fact that militants had infiltrated the kibbutz. Militants entered Iair's home, where he was hiding in the reinforced safe room with Eitan. Iair attempted to hold the door shut until they began shooting through the door. Then he decided to surrender, worried they might use grenades or stronger weapons. Iair, who was immediately taken into Gaza, didn't know what had happened to his brother until around the 50th day of his captivity, when the militants placed the two brothers together, and Iair realized Eitan had also been kidnapped. Being together, even in their small, barred room, was a stroke of luck, Iair said. 'There's a lot of time with nothing to do, and we talked a lot about our childhoods, about elementary school, about the youth movement, about soccer,' he said. 'We tried to keep our sense of humor. He would ask me, did you brush your teeth? And I'd ask him, did you wash your bellybutton?' 'It was silly things, silly things between siblings that I don't have right now. Many times it happens now that something happens to me on the street that I have to tell him. And I can't, and I'm so sorry,' he said, starting to cry. Captors tell hostages that two will be released For most of the time, the Horn brothers were held with three other hostages. In early February, their captors came to the group of five and said that two would be released. 'For four days, we're looking at each other and wondering if we can decide or influence the decision,' he said. After four days, the captors arrived with a small plate of snacks and a video camera. They announced that Iair and another hostage would be leaving and filmed the emotional interaction between Iair and Eitan. Hamas later released the video on its social media channels, as it has with other videos of the hostages filmed under duress. Their last night together, Eitan and Iair laid side by side in silence. 'There was no conversation because in your head you don't want to have a conversation as if it's your last conversation,' Iair Horn said. When their mother, Ruty Chmiel Strum, learned that Iair was coming out but not Eitan, she said to anyone who would listen, 'Why are you doing this to my sons? They are together and you're separating them?' No one gave her an answer, but Strum clung to hope that Eitan would be released soon. Now she mostly ignores news about the negotiations, tuning out the information to protect herself. She said she raised her three boys 'as a single body,' and their support for each other is unshakable. She clasps Iair's hand as they sit together on the couch in her home and looks forward to the day Eitan returns. 'I will feel the hug of my three sons, enjoying life, each supporting each other,' she said. 'It will happen.'


The Hill
7 minutes ago
- The Hill
As Dubai cracks down on crowded jerry-rigged apartments, migrant workers have nowhere else to go
DUBAI, United Arab Emirates (AP) — Lights flicker, doors hang off their hinges and holes in the walls expose pipes in the apartment building where Hesham, an Egyptian migrant worker, lives in Dubai, an emirate better known for its flashy skyscrapers and penthouses. His two-bedroom rental unit is carved up to house nine other men, and what he calls home is a modified closet just big enough for a mattress. But now the government has ordered the 44-year-old salesman out of even that cramped space, which costs him $270 a month. He's one of the many low-paid foreign laborers caught up in a widespread crackdown by authorities in Dubai over illegal subletting. That includes rooms lined with bunk beds that offer no privacy but are as cheap as a few dollars a night, as well as partitioned apartments like Hesham's, where plywood boards, drywall and plastic shower curtains can turn a flat into a makeshift dormitory for 10 or 20 people. After a blaze at a high-rise in June, Dubai officials launched the campaign over concerns that partitioned apartments represent a major fire risk. Some of those evicted have been left scrambling to stay off the streets, where begging is illegal. Others fear they could be next, uncertain when or where inspectors might show up. 'Now we don't know what we'll do,' said Hesham, who's staying put until his landlord evicts him. Like others living in Dubai's cheapest and most crowded spaces, he spoke to The Associated Press on condition only his first name be used for fear of coming into the crosshairs of authorities enforcing the ban on illegal housing. 'We don't have any other choice,' he said. Dubai Municipality, which oversees the city-state, declined an AP request for an interview. In a statement, it said authorities have conducted inspections across the emirate to curb fire and safety hazards — an effort it said would 'ensure the highest standards of public safety' and lead to 'enhanced quality of life' for tenants. It didn't address where those unable to afford legal housing would live in a city-state that's synonymous with luxury yet outlaws labor unions and guarantees no minimum wage. Dubai boom boosts rents Dubai has seen a boom since the pandemic that shows no signs of stopping. Its population of 3.9 million is projected to grow to 5.8 million by 2040 as more people move into the commercial hub from abroad. Much of Dubai's real estate market caters to wealthy foreign professionals living there long-term. That leaves few affordable options for the majority of workers — migrants on temporary, low-wage contracts, often earning just several hundred dollars a month. Nearly a fifth of homes in Dubai were worth more than $1 million as of last year, property firm Knight Frank said. Developers are racing to build more high-end housing. That continued growth has meant rising rents across the board. Short-term rentals are expected to cost 18% more by the end of this year compared to 2024, according to online rental company Colife. Most migrant workers the AP spoke to said they make just $300 to $550 a month. In lower-income areas, they said, a partitioned apartment space generally rents for $220 to $270 a month, while a single bunk in an undivided room costs half as much. Both can cost less if shared, or more depending on size and location. At any rate, they are far cheaper than the average one-bedroom rental, which real estate firm Engel & Völkers said runs about $1,400 a month. The United Arab Emirates, like other Gulf Arab nations, relies on low-paid workers from Africa and Asia to build, clean, babysit and drive taxi cabs. Only Emirati nationals, who are outnumbered nearly 9 to 1 by residents from foreign countries, are eligible for an array of government benefits, including financial assistance for housing. Large employers, from construction firms and factories to hotels and resorts, are required by law to house workers if they are paid less than $400 a month, much of which they send home to families overseas. However, many migrants are employed informally, making their living arrangements hard to regulate, said Steffen Hertog, an expert on Gulf labor markets at the London School of Economics and Political Science. The crackdown will push up their housing costs, creating 'a lot of stress for people whose life situation is already precarious,' he said. Hassan, a 24-year-old security guard from Uganda, shares a bed in a partitioned apartment with a friend. So far, the government hasn't discovered it, but he has reason to be nervous, he said. 'They can tell you to leave without an option, without anywhere to go.' Fires remain a threat in Dubai Dubai has targeted overcrowded apartments in the past amid a spate of high-rise fires fueled by flammable siding material. The latest round of inspections came after a blaze in June at a 67-story tower in the Dubai Marina neighborhood, where some apartments had been partitioned. More than 3,800 residents were forced to evacuate from the building, which had 532 occupied apartments, according to a police report. That means seven people on average lived in each of these units in the tower of one-, two- and three-bedroom flats. Dozens of homes were left uninhabitable. There were no major injuries in that fire. However, another in 2023 in Dubai's historic Deira neighborhood killed at least 16 people and injured another nine in a unit believed to have been partitioned. Ebony, a 28-year-old odd-job worker from Ghana, was recently forced to leave a partitioned apartment after the authorities found out about it. She lived in a narrow space with a roommate who slept above her on a jerry-built plywood loft bed. 'Sometimes to even stand up,' she said, 'your head is going to hit the plywood.' She's in a new apartment now, a single room that holds 14 others — and sometimes more than 20 as people come and go, sharing beds. With her income of about $400 a month, she said she didn't have another option, and she's afraid of being forced out again.


Hamilton Spectator
8 minutes ago
- Hamilton Spectator
Released Israeli-Argentinian hostage fights for brother still held by Hamas
KFAR SABA, Israel (AP) — As Israel has announced steps to increase humanitarian aid in Gaza, a former Israeli-Argentinian hostage knows first-hand what that could mean for captives of the Hamas militant group. Iair Horn, who spent a year and a half in captivity, said hostages could tell when more aid was available because they would receive more food. 'When there's less food, then there's also less for the hostages. When there's aid, there's a possibility you might get a cucumber,' said Horn, 46. Hamas militants kidnapped Horn from his home at Kibbutz Nir Oz , along with 250 other people , during the group's cross-border attack on Oct. 7, 2023. He was released Feb. 15 after 498 days in captivity. For most of that time, he was held in an underground cell in a tunnel with several other hostages, including his younger brother Eitan Horn, 38. Since his release, Iair Horn has deferred his own recovery to fight for the release of his brother and the other 50 hostages still being held in Gaza, 20 of whom are still believed to be alive. Negotiations collapse again Hearing that negotiations between Israel and Hamas were once again frozen over the weekend was devastating for his family, Horn said. Since his release, he has made four trips to the U.S., where he has met with President Donald Trump and other American leaders to plead for the hostages. He wasn't sure what to make of a comment Thursday by Trump special envoy Steve Witkoff , who said the U.S. would consider 'alternative options' after recalling its negotiating team from Qatar. 'I'm not a politician, and I'm not getting into those things because I don't understand them. What I understand is very simple: I want my brother back,' Horn said. 'My life is frozen right now. I live in a nightmare that every day they are kidnapping me anew,' he said. Horn, who is single, is currently living with family in Kfar Saba, a city near Tel Aviv. Previously, he worked a variety of jobs in Kibbutz Nir Oz, including in education, maintenance and the kitchen. He also ran the kibbutz pub. Every morning when he opens his eyes, he must think for a few moments to remember where he is, to remember he is no longer a hostage, Horn said. He's gained back some of the weight he lost in captivity, but his list of physical and psychological ailments is long. He does not know where he will live, what he will do in the future, or if he will go back to Nir Oz. The only thing he concentrates on is advocating for his brother's release. 'I never imagined that another half year would pass without seeing my little brother,' he said. Israel's war in Gaza has killed more than 59,700 Palestinians, according to Gaza's Health Ministry. The agency's count doesn't distinguish between militants and civilians, but the ministry says that more than half of the dead are women and children. The U.N. and other international organizations see the ministry, which operates under the Hamas government, as the most reliable source of data on casualties. Brothers were held together Iair Horn is the oldest of three brothers who grew up in Argentina. He moved to Israel at age 20, followed by his middle brother, Amos. Eitan and their parents, long divorced, joined later. On Oct. 7, 2023, Eitan was visiting Iair at his home on Kibbutz Nir Oz when the sirens started, warning of incoming missiles. Soon they received text messages alerting them to the fact that militants had infiltrated the kibbutz. Militants entered Iair's home, where he was hiding in the reinforced safe room with Eitan. Iair attempted to hold the door shut until they began shooting through the door. Then he decided to surrender, worried they might use grenades or stronger weapons. Iair, who was immediately taken into Gaza, didn't know what had happened to his brother until around the 50th day of his captivity, when the militants placed the two brothers together, and Iair realized Eitan had also been kidnapped. Being together, even in their small, barred room, was a stroke of luck, Iair said. 'There's a lot of time with nothing to do, and we talked a lot about our childhoods, about elementary school, about the youth movement, about soccer,' he said. 'We tried to keep our sense of humor. He would ask me, did you brush your teeth? And I'd ask him, did you wash your bellybutton?' 'It was silly things, silly things between siblings that I don't have right now. Many times it happens now that something happens to me on the street that I have to tell him. And I can't, and I'm so sorry,' he said, starting to cry. Captors tell hostages that two will be released For most of the time, the Horn brothers were held with three other hostages. In early February, their captors came to the group of five and said that two would be released. 'For four days, we're looking at each other and wondering if we can decide or influence the decision,' he said. After four days, the captors arrived with a small plate of snacks and a video camera. They announced that Iair and another hostage would be leaving and filmed the emotional interaction between Iair and Eitan. Hamas later released the video on its social media channels, as it has with other videos of the hostages filmed under duress. Their last night together, Eitan and Iair laid side by side in silence. 'There was no conversation because in your head you don't want to have a conversation as if it's your last conversation,' Iair Horn said. When their mother, Ruty Chmiel Strum, learned that Iair was coming out but not Eitan, she said to anyone who would listen, 'Why are you doing this to my sons? They are together and you're separating them?' No one gave her an answer, but Strum clung to hope that Eitan would be released soon. Now she mostly ignores news about the negotiations, tuning out the information to protect herself. She said she raised her three boys 'as a single body,' and their support for each other is unshakable. She clasps Iair's hand as they sit together on the couch in her home and looks forward to the day Eitan returns. 'I will feel the hug of my three sons, enjoying life, each supporting each other,' she said. 'It will happen.' Error! Sorry, there was an error processing your request. There was a problem with the recaptcha. Please try again. You may unsubscribe at any time. By signing up, you agree to our terms of use and privacy policy . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google privacy policy and terms of service apply. Want more of the latest from us? Sign up for more at our newsletter page .