Having long dreamt of a free homeland, Syrians who had to live abroad for years talk to Al Majalla about the land they left, their conflicting emotions about coming home, and their hopes for Syria
Shortly after Syria erupted into civil war in 2011, and ever since, the country has become a byword for refugees, displacement, and exile. Millions of Syrians had to leave their homes and, in many cases, their country to escape brutality. It formed a huge diaspora—a people connected by pain but disconnected from their place of birth.
On 8 December, when the rule of the Assad family finally finished, the meaning of the word ‘Syrian’ shifted. It took on a new dimension. Suddenly, it meant that millions could now return home. In the days and weeks that followed, many did so.
Al Majalla spoke to some who had spent extended periods abroad—for some, decades—to understand how they felt about coming home.
‘I want to get to know Syria’
The night of 8 December 2024 shattered all of Ahmad’s plans. Aged 26, he had been preparing to pack his bags and emigrate for the third time, set to travel to Germany. He first escaped Syria for Lebanon, where he spent nine years, followed by four years in the United Arab Emirates. He spent most of that time living in fear.
“I received the news of al-Assad’s fall with overwhelming joy,” he recalled. “I was convinced I would never return to my country. I had already begun preparing to leave (the UAE) in early-2025. What happened changed everything. I will finally settle in my homeland.”
A native of Daraa, Ahmad was arrested at the age of 14 after appearing in a video alongside members of the Free Syrian Army. He spent six months in the notorious Sednaya Prison and was only released after his family paid “a ransom”. His mother sent him in a car to the Lebanese border just hours after his release. She did not want him to become just another statistic, lost in the shadows.
Syrians celebrate as they return to Damascus via Lebanon's Masnaa border crossing east of Beirut on December 8, 2024, following the fall of the Syrian capital to anti-government fighters.
“One of the officers showed me mercy, perhaps because I was so young,” he said. “My family didn’t know where I was during that time. I was gripped by the fear of being forgotten. Just a few hours after my release, I found myself in Beirut. I didn’t get to bid farewell to my father properly or embrace my mother enough. I held onto the image of my brother, whom I left behind as a child. Now I return to find him a grown man.”
Ahmad knows little of Syria beyond his hometown, Daraa, and the walls of Sednaya. His simple dream now is to discover Syria and get to know it. “My wish is to visit Old Damascus, swim in the sea of Latakia, and roam around Homs,” he said.
"I know nothing about my country's landmarks except for the town of Izra and the bars of Sednaya Prison. Imagine, I know Lebanon and Dubai like the back of my hand, but I am completely ignorant of Syria."
He views the transitional government with optimism, inspired by its promises, and is planning to import used cars from Europe, leveraging his experience in this field gained during his time in the UAE. This would have been unthinkable under al-Assad's rule, he says, because nepotism was rife.
"I am hopeful about this new phase," says Ahmad. "From the first day of the regime's fall, people began to notice improvements in living conditions. Prices dropped, fuel became available. Any government, as long as it is not led by al-Assad, will be far better."
My family didn't know where I was. I was gripped by the fear of being forgotten.
Ahmad, a native of Daraa
'No more cult of the leader'
It took Jaber an entire week for the news of al-Assad's fall to finally sink in, so deeply had the notion of 'Assad forever' been drilled into the collective Syrian psyche.
Speaking from his hometown of Homs, the 35-year-old said: "It pained me to realise how deeply the regime's grip on our minds had been. I couldn't bring myself to believe it had truly fallen. It took days to accept that its rule was over and would not return. Initially, I dismissed the news as a political manoeuvre."
Jaber has lived outside Syria for nearly 10 years and says what gives him the most hope is the collapse of the "cult of personality" system, the idea that a nation's fate is tied to a single individual—its sole representative. "Liberation from the obsession with the 'saviour leader' is the most optimistic aspect of this new phase," he said.
"Belief in the homeland, not the individual, is what will let Syria rise without repeating past mistakes. What's important is that the nation isn't tied to the name of a leader, politician, or president. Changing the mindset is more important than changing the people."
Jaber plans to return to Syria within six months once the country's direction becomes evident. "The coming months are critical for my decision to return," he said. "I'll be among the first to go back if the economic and living conditions improve and the country opens up. I'm tired of exile and loneliness."
He said he hopes to establish his own electronics business without being burdened by heavy taxes and extortion. "If taxes are reduced, Syria's economy will thrive. Everyone dreams of having their own business. This would encourage expatriates to return and invest in their homeland after so many years of being away."
People visit the immigration and passport centre as they cross into Syria from Turkey through the Kassab crossing on December 27, 2024.
'Still no trace of my friends'
Likewise, Anas was also stunned upon hearing the news of al-Assad's fall. After so many years of failed attempts to topple the regime, he had lost hope. His hometown of Deir ez-Zor in the east, on the banks of the Euphrates, had taken a battering.
"I left my city because of two oppressions: the first from Islamic State (IS) and the second from al-Assad," the 28-year-old said. Anas said he expected that al-Assad "would cling to control over at least three Syrian provinces… It never crossed my mind that he would flee. I thought this family would rule us for eternity."
Reflecting on the fall of al-Assad and the 'night of breaking the bars' (in reference to the wholesale release of prisoners), Anas said: "It was a mix of immense joy and sorrow, as not all detainees were released. I was waiting to hear news of my friends being freed from Sednaya Prison, but there's still no trace of them."
Today, Anas is considering a return to Syria after eight years in Turkey, but like others, he is wary and says the timing of his return depends on how the country's situation unfolds. "For now, the government is focused on managing institutions. The priority is to stabilise the country and prevent chaos."
Having studied cinema, Anas dreams of participating in Syria's future politics and aspires to write about government performance openly, without the need to hide behind pseudonyms.
"I dream of the freedom to critique, of improving the quality of education and healthcare, fostering political pluralism, and opening the door for active political parties," he says.
People display an independence-era Syrian flag after crossing over into Syria from Turkey through the Kassab crossing on December 27, 2024.
'No more malicious accusations'
For years under the repressive rule of the Ba'ath Party and the Assads, Syrians became acquainted with the idea of 'neat handwriting'—a coded reference to the skill of writing reports of accusations fostered by the Syrian regime among informants. This so-called talent let those with personal grudges get the state to settle scores.
"No more victims of reports now," said Shireen, 40, reflecting on how many died as a result of these often-confected accusations. It was why she left Syria ten years ago.
"I was renewing my passport to join my husband in Kuwait, only to suddenly discover that I was accused of forging my passport based on a malicious 'report'. I didn't know the source of it at the time, but it forced me to flee to Lebanon and later to Sweden."
Shireen is considering settling back in Syria after the presidential elections, which she hopes will be fair and not predetermined as they were during al-Assad's reign.
"I long to return and reunite with my family," she said. "I want my child to sleep safely at night without me fearing he'll wake up the next morning and ask me where his father has disappeared to."
'Relief at no military conscription'
For years, the Alawite sect in Syria was told that the Assad regime was their sole protector and saviour (the Assad family were Alawites). They were likewise told that if the Assads were not there to protect them, it would lead to their annihilation.
This helps to explain why people like Jaafar, 30, who opposed al-Assad's rule, have mixed feelings about his fall. "I can't deny the anxiety and fear I felt about the uncertain future," he said. "We were raised on the idea that the demise of al-Assad meant the demise of the sect. Yet, at the same time, I was curious about the next phase and eager for a new era of comprehensive change."
A girl shows her doll as she waits to cross into Syria from Turkey with her family through the Kassab crossing on December 27, 2024.
Jaafar believes it is too early to predict Syria's future but notes the early signs of improvement in living conditions and the reassurances being given about the safety of religious minorities.
His dreams, particularly after the abolition of mandatory military service, revolve around returning to his hometown of Latakia. After saving money from his years working in Erbil, he hopes to open his own restaurant without facing sectarian harassment.
"There is a sense of relief with the disappearance of the looming threat of military conscription, which was the primary reason I stayed away from my family," he said. "I hope the country will open economically to the world and that Syrians can return to their homes."
'We need investment. I'll help'
Aged 29, Omar was preparing to pay $8,000 to be exempt from mandatory military service in 2025, but events have spared him the expense. It was one of the many ways the regime extorted money from its citizens.
"I felt double the happiness when I heard of al-Assad's fall," he said. "First, because the country is closing a chapter of injustice and tyranny whose time had come to an end. Second, on a personal level, because I won't have to pay a large amount of money, I had painstakingly saved over years of exile."
Omar, who hails from the city of Salamiyah (southeast of Hama and northeast of Homs), supports the decision to abolish mandatory military service, calling it a logical move after 14 years of military depletion in the country.
"The country needs economic openness and Arab and foreign investments," he said. "As for me, I will return to Syria and use my expertise in real estate investments to contribute to rebuilding my homeland."
