Dream: my friend E. contacts me, panicking. He’s going to prison for marijuana possession. He is very afraid of withdrawal symptoms. Then he’s in a cell. Desperate. He has a neighbor whose anus is positioned in the middle of his back, and who can only shit lying on his side next to a Turkish toilet: “The poor guy. Some people have no luck.” Visit with a kind of social worker. Long endless tirade by E., who talks about his misfortunes. I listen distractedly and begin reading. All of a sudden I realize he’s sobbing furiously. “All this is because I had no father,” he cries. “It’s too hard for a child to grow up without a father.” He stamps his feet, his face screwed up, I look at him finally and realize he’s a little blond boy, lost in his fit of tears and anguish. He looks like my son Emir. I open my arms, he comes, and I hold him against me as he sobs uncontrollably.
Breakfast: omelet, tomatoes, za‘atar, labneh, olives, cheeses.
A young guy enters, we introduce ourselves, and right away he wants to tell a story: he has a friend who did three months in jail because of a dream. He had dreamed that he was leading the President’s motorcade; he told it to some friends, a stoolie denounced him, and he was arrested.
Everyone here has a story, and as soon as they see a foreigner they want to tell it to him.
Imad took a bullet through the left ankle, by ricochet, during an Army attack, in October not long before the ‘Eid al-Adha. The bullet went through the joint, and he couldn’t go to a clinic. He was taken care of by a pharmacist, it didn’t heal well, it still hurts and he limps.
Magnificent sunny day. From the top of the building, a view of the roofs of Baba ‘Amr, many unfinished constructions, but sometimes already partially inhabited as everywhere in Syria. Toward the northeast, beyond the Al-Bassel stadium, some residential towers, one of them still under construction, where Army snipers are hiding. Then the orchards, the immense chemical factory and the lake, invisible. Homs’ center is on the other side, also invisible from here.
10:30 AM. Visit of Haqura with Imad. Deserted indeed beneath the cold sun, not a single inhabitant, the streets empty, dead. Just from time to time an FSA soldier, AK or RPG on his shoulder. On the ground: bullets, casings, mortar splinters, garbage everywhere. Near the FSA HQ from yesterday, the streets are walled off by sandbags. A man has come to his place to get his things. He left four months ago, the children couldn’t bear the shooting.
The outer edge of the neighborhood is totally destroyed. This zone was heavily bombed, especially in November; there are mortar craters everywhere on the ground. Hassan’s house, completely ravaged. I photograph Hassan in front of the ruins, from behind with his baby on his shoulder. Some corners are dangerous, open to sniper fire, we pass quickly hugging the walls. A little further on we enter another destroyed house. On the ground scattered anti-aircraft rounds, the tail of a mortar shell, Russian made, 82 mm. Through a shattered window, we can see an Army post 50 meters away. You have to look furtively, these guys shoot. Abu Yazan, one of the soldiers, holds his pistol cocked. Hassan is still walking his baby.
House. Holes in the walls, staircases. Through one window, you can see the post clearly, a little base in fact, a three-story building with a destroyed truck parked just next to it and balconies covered with sandbags riddled with holes. Here too you have to look quickly, stealthily. The post seems deserted but Abu Yazan is nervous. Behind are the stadium and the residential towers.
Like everywhere in the world, cats have left their paw prints in the concrete.
In an abandoned apartment, fragments of a doll, dishes, an ultrasound scan still in its envelope, made probably in Lebanon.
Another destroyed apartment, burned, riddled with bullet holes. In one completely burned room, a melted TV. On a bed, a cemetery of computers. A man on sentry duty, sitting on an office chair, Kalashnikov in hand, observes the Army positions through a shell hole in the wall.
We pass on the other side of the buildings, toward the frontline but in a corner of the street protected by another building. The façade of the apartments where we just were, above us, are riddled with mortar shell or rocket impacts. On the ground floor, a big abandoned gym, with pink walls and a gray marble floor, the machines covered with plaster, dominated by a long mirror pierced by an explosive round. In one corner, a big punching bag is slowly swinging.
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12:30 PM. Friday demonstration. It begins at the neighborhood mosque. The men pray; in front, dozens of children chant slogans. Activists arrive with flags and posters. At the end of prayer, the men shout the takbir and pour in waves out of the mosque chanting Allahu Akbar! The procession forms quickly and heads toward the main street of Baba ‘Amr. At the intersections, FSA soldiers keep watch; at the end of the avenue there is an Army position. The procession heads up the avenue waving flags, photos of shahids, signs, some slogans are in English (“WE WANT INTERNATIONAL PROTECTION”). Men, young and old, children, even babies with their fathers. But only men: the women watch from balconies or from the sidewalk. The procession passes under the sniper tower, without incident, then in front of a big mosque, the main one of Baba ‘Amr I think, and a school, and finally turns right. More marked FSA presence, there is a post and quite a few armed men. We join the other processions of Baba ‘Amr in the middle of a wide street for a monster demonstration: thousands of men chant the slogans, dance in rows, and shout the takbir; then comes the music, drums too, with dancing in a circle around them, the young people also continue to dance the dhikr in rows, crying out slogans. In the center of the demonstration, a large human oval forms around two activists perched on a ladder with microphones, starting up the slogans. Around them there are drums and the first dancers, signs in English addressed to the Arab League; all along one side the women stay grouped, a wall of white, pale pink, or black scarves. Many of them are carrying babies and heart-shaped balloons. They applaud with enthusiasm, shout, yodel, and also chant slogans. Men wave their shoes. The roofs and balconies are packed. On one of them, activists are filming. All this in a mood of mad, electric exhilaration, the people are hyped up, a level of joyful and desperate energy I have never seen before.
This Friday is dedicated “to the political prisoners.”
Meeting by chance with G., a sympathetic Franco-Syrian gentleman, who is from Insha’at but has lived in Montpellier for fifteen years. He is leaving in two or three days, his wife can’t take it anymore. “If they didn’t shoot at the demonstrators, all of Homs would be out in the streets.” He explains to me that the leader of the demonstration is a university student, in his third year of studying to be an engineer.
The demonstration drummer is a gypsy. Here, as elsewhere, they are often musicians.
I find Ra’id in the street, caught up in an altercation with Abu Hanin, one of the leaders of the Information Bureau. Abu Hanin is berating us for not wanting to work with them; Ra’id explains that we’re going to finish with the FSA first, then we’ll be glad to come see them. G. gets a little involved, translates, comments.
End of the demonstration. The people disperse. Volleys on the main street, just as people are leaving. Women are running. The shots come from the east, from a bridge that leads to the Alawite quarter. The avenue separates Baba ‘Amr from Insha’at. A month ago, crossing this avenue was very risky. But since the other checkpoint to the west was evacuated, three weeks ago, it’s been calmer.
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After the demonstration, we ask Imad if we can meet ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass, one of the main military leaders of Homs. G., the Franco-Syrian gentleman, agrees to accompany us to serve as my translator. We find Tlass at home, on the first try.
2:00 PM. ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass, leader of the Military Council of Baba ‘Amr. Young guy, bearded, in a tracksuit. He receives us in a room on the ground floor of a building, with some AKs in a corner and a flag of the katiba al-Faruk on the wall. He doesn’t want to give an interview: it’s out of principle, their own journalists are enough. He is also paranoid because foreign journalists, according to him, have deformed his statements because of a pro-regime bias. Ra’id tries to convince him, I argue too with the help of G. who has kindly accompanied us. Tlass, politely: “We have doubts about interviews. The situation is tense. We don’t trust foreign journalists.” He doesn’t want to talk about military matters. “Your presence here poses problems for us.”
Imad: “They have internal difficulties specific to them, they don’t want to talk about them.”
Tlass: “The period when we showed things is over. If your peoples haven’t understood for eleven months, there’s no point.” Conclusion: “Bukra, insha’Allah.”28
Disjointed conversation. I try ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass again: Would he at least agree to talk about his own personal journey? Yes, he agrees. He is twenty-six, and comes from Rastan. He was mulazim awwal in the 5th Division, infantry, posted in Dara‘a. His colleagues took part in the repression, but he refused, and around February–March obtained a change of post. He then began to take part in the demonstrations, in civilian clothes, leaving the camp. He mentions several massacres of demonstrators, including one on February 24 in Sanzamin, which he did not witness himself; same for a demonstration in Anchel, end of February, after which he received a call to give blood, for the wounded. These demonstrations were suppressed by the 9th Division, the military mukhabarat, and State Security. ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass was very disturbed by all these wounded, by the difficulties in caring for them, by the massacres. He never believed the regime’s propaganda. “In principle the Army should be neutral. It should protect the people, the Nation. And there, we saw the opposite. The checkpoints shot at people. Dara‘a was devastated. The people try to convince the Army to join them, against the mukhabarat. But it didn’t work. Because the officers gave the order to attack. They’re allies of al-Assad, of the regime. The majority were Alawite. As for the Sunnis, they obey or they go to jail.”
When he first thought about deserting, he wanted to do it in a group. With other officers, he tried to organize the mutiny of two liwas and one katiba29 belonging to the 5th, 9th, and 15th Divisions. But finally the other officers took fright, because of the Air Force, and backed down. So he left alone, with his weapon. “I’m the first officer to have deserted the Syrian Army. Many people have tried to convince me not to do it: ‘How can you do that, how can you even imagine that, deserting?’”
“I deserted in June, in Dara‘a. I did it so as not to shoot at people, and I immediately took up arms. I saw you can’t take down this regime without arms. I came to Rastan, where the Army was attacking, and I founded the Khalid ibn Walid katiba.” Tlass formed the katiba with seven officers and about forty non-commissioned officers. When it was operational, he left it in the hands of other officers and came, around the second week of July, to form the al-Faruk katiba, here in Baba ‘Amr. In August, it in turn was operational.
‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass, here, presents the facts in his manner. The later defection of officers of higher rank than the subordinate officers who had first deserted and formed the first katibas of the Free Army caused strong tensions, with the superior officers claiming that they should now take over command, something the subordinate officers who had been commanding for months accepted with difficulty. ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass had in fact been pushed out of the Khalid ibn Walid katiba for such reasons. An ambitious man, he also attributes to himself a leading role in the al-Faruk katiba, which other interlocutors contest.
The current leader of the Khalid ibn Walid katiba is the ra’id30 Ahmad Bahbuh.
‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass thinks that the number of soldiers would justify al-Faruk being a liwa, but they don’t want to change the name. He thinks the Khalid ibn Walid katiba has over 4,000 or 5,000 men, which would also make it a liwa.
The al-Faruk katiba is responsible for the city of Homs, Telbisi, and the al-Qusayr zone. The Khalid ibn Walid katiba controls Rastan and the villages around it.
The al-Faruk katiba is commanded by a Military Council, but ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass has the final decision.
I ask him a question about his relations with Colonel Riad al-Asa‘ad [the commander of the Free Syrian Army, based in Antioch, Turkey]: “For now, I can’t answer that.”
A freer discussion with Imad. They tell us the story of the Army base we saw this morning, with the burned truck next to it. The FSA had in fact captured the captain in charge of it. But they got along well with him, and they freed him provided he evacuate the position. Which he did, withdrawing to the towers further back. Now he is observing a truce with the FSA.
‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass tells us about the visit of the observers from the Arab League. They came, but on the other side of the big avenue. In the beginning, they didn’t dare cross it, because of the shooting; then, two days later, they crossed over, five or eight of them, without handlers. At that time – it was the first week of the observers’ mission [toward the end of December 2011] – the neighborhood was surrounded, under pressure. The observers came to convince them to negotiate with the Army. The FSA replied: “You’re here to observe and report on what the Army is doing to us!” In fact the observers wanted to negotiate full respect for the agreement [by the Syrian government] in exchange for a retreat of the FSA.
Lunch with ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass. Scrambled eggs, eggs with meat, hummus, tomatoes, za‘atar. The bread is heated by placing it on top of the sobia, or by sticking it on the side.
At one point, G. receives a phone call from his wife, who orders him to come home. He leaves us, apologizing, and it’s once again Ra’id who will finish translating the discussion.
We try to convince ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass to show us the wounded soldiers from yesterday [the ones at Abu Bari’s clinic]. First he talks about an informer, an Alawite shabbiha who gave information on the FSA’s weapons caches. Then we’re told they have a secret prison that they don’t want to show to us. The soldiers are there too.
Me: “It’s important that you show the world that you are decent people, patriots, that you treat wounded enemies well. That you’re not Al-Qa’ida.”
‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass: “If this continues, we’ll become just like Al-Qa‘ida. If the world abandons us, and supports al-Assad, we will attack Israel and other countries, internationalize the conflict, to force the international community to intervene. We’ll declare jihad.” He asserts that these are not his personal views, that the Military Council of Homs has discussed it and that they all agree.
He wants a NATO military intervention. “If there’s no NATO intervention, we’ll call for jihad in the entire Muslim world. Then, groups will come from all over the Muslim world. And it will be war against kufr [impiety], and so it won’t be limited to the Syrian question. Things will be out of our hands. And the struggle against Israel will resume.”
‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass explains that the idea is to put pressure on the West, so that the West will intervene before it becomes a regional war.
It’s a very naïve vision, of course. He thinks that they can force Europe and the United States to intervene. They are all convinced that the United States is keeping al-Assad in power in order to support Israel. They hope to force their hand by threatening to provoke regional chaos.
“We tried everything and nothing works. This Friday we called ‘the Friday before the declaration of jihad.’ It’s been two months since we’ve been trying to delay the call for jihad, but a majority voted in favor. We’re at the service of the people, we have to follow suit.”
At the demonstration, as noted above, they had told me that this Friday had been named for “the political prisoners.” This system of naming the days, especially Fridays, is done on various forums, on Facebook or other websites, on the basis of votes by internet users. Apparently there are competing websites, hence the discrepancy between the two “names” for this Friday. The low number of voters means this is not very representative of the public opinion of Syria in revolt.
‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass insists, referring to the fact that the demonstrators today were crying out: “Labayk, labayk, labayk ya’Allah!” This is a ritual phrase for arriving in Mecca, which means, “God, here I am!” (Labayk means: “We submit to you.”) So this signifies that they’re ready to go to their death, that they’re ready for jihad.
When we leave, ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass accompanies us with a singsong: “God, let us go to jihad.” Big laughter on all sides.
In the street, before we separate, we again ask him the question about his relations with Riad al-Asa‘ad: “The FSA, it’s inside [the country], that’s all.” He means: we don’t have to take orders from the outside. “He and I, we take our orders from the people. If you want to go against them, you’re traitors.” On the question of the declaration of jihad, he doesn’t know Riad’s opinion. They have big communication problems.
Another important point not mentioned during this conversation is the fact that Tlass is a distant relative of Mustafa Tlass, the all-powerful Minister of Defense and right-hand man, for thirty years, of Hafez al-Assad. Even though Tlass has been in retirement since 2006, his extended family, present at every level in the Army, remains one of the most powerful Sunni clans in the country, and the defection of one of its members represents a major step for the regime. The television network Al-Dunya announced the death of ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass on February 9, but the FSA never confirmed it.
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Not many people at nightfall. Freezing cold. Aside from a few avenues, the buildings huddle very close together, barely enough room for two cars to pass each other, no sidewalks. Oppressive feeling when you drive around these streets, like at the bottom of a narrow canyon, weaving between parked cars, motorbikes, and people.
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4:30 PM. Muhammad Abu Sayyef, humanitarian coordinator for Baba ‘Amr. An out-of-work electrical engineer, who volunteered to draw up lists of needy families and coordinate the distribution of aid. Salt-and-pepper beard cut short, fingerless gloves, white wool cap, white and gray tracksuit under a black leather jacket.
He explains: rise of the dollar, 30 per cent; rise in the price of essential goods, 20 per cent, because it’s dangerous to bring them to the neighborhood. Thus total rise of prices: 50 per cent. Previously, the factories delivered their products. Now, wholesalers and semi-wholesalers have to go find them themselves.
Example of a canister of cooking gas. The normal price is 250 Syrian pounds [US $3.47 at the current rate]. That’s still the price in Zahra, Akrama, and Nezha (pro-regime neighborhoods). But there’s no more state distribution in Baba ‘Amr. Private individuals bring the canisters into the neighborhood at their own risk. So the price in Baba ‘Amr varies between 500 and 900 SYP per bottle [between US $6.90 and US $12.40].
A man named ‘Abdelkafi L., a friend of Imad, was recently killed for gas. Ten days ago, he left to get some canisters for resale in a border zone between pro- and anti-regime neighborhoods. There, you can find gas at a higher price than the official price, but less than in Baba ‘Amr, so he could eke out a profit. There were two of them in the car, a little Suzuki van, but in these zones there’s shooting: ‘Abdelkafi was wounded in the leg and arrested; his friend managed to escape. ‘Abdelkafi was taken to the military hospital – the FSA got the information through nurse sympathizers, sent to find out. Three days ago, they received his body, with traces of torture all over it, by electricity etc. On the face of it he was killed at the military hospital. The case is documented, the corpse was shown on Al Jazeera.
When someone is kidnapped or arrested, they pay to find out where he is, and sometimes to recover the body.
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Return to the first clinic. We’re not allowed to enter. Violent shouting match between Ra’id and Abu Bari, the fat bearded pseudo-mujahideen, arrogant and stupid. “I don’t give a flying fuck about ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass! [Yesterday he said the opposite.] He’s a soldier, we’re civilians. I’m so furious I hate everyone!” Imad doesn’t know who put him in charge of the clinic. He’s a former plasterer, without any medical training whatsoever.
It’s Imad who created the second clinic we saw, in the apartment, because he was fed up with the way the first one was managed. He wants a clinic under the control of doctors.
We learn that it’s Abu Bari who set up the first clinic, and he’s the one who had the doctors come. That’s why he can keep control of the place.
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5:30 PM. After the evening demonstration, we are summoned by the Military Council. The guys who came to get us are nervous, and the tension quickly rises. Ra’id is afraid they’re going to erase his photos. As a precaution, I send a text message to Le Monde to warn them. But in fact it’s just to get to know us, a very cordial meeting in a room to the back of a school. Fifteen men are seated against the walls; an officer leads the discussion, someone whom Ra’id has already met during the noon demonstration. His name is Muhannad al-‘Umar. A calm, serious, intelligent man. Imad briefs him on the problem with Abu Bari’s clinic, and Muhannad says he’ll settle it. Then he asks a first question: what does the French government think of the death of Gilles Jacquier? We explain the declarations, more or less suspicious of the regime, of Alain Juppé. Then we ask their opinion. It’s the mukhabarat, they reply. But they don’t think the journalists were targeted: for them, the mukhabarat were targeting the pro-Assad demonstration, so that the journalists would film this massacre and thus give credit to the official argument about terrorism.
Then Ra’id asks for specific permissions: free access to Abu Bari’s clinic, and to the prisoners.
The wounded soldier is apparently a non-commissioned officer in the mukhabarat. They agree for us to see him, and accept that it be one-on-one so we can be assured he isn’t being pressured.
Muhannad al-‘Umar is a civilian who joined the FSA. He takes part in military actions and does logistical support. He is a member of the Majlis al-‘Askari, the Military Council. There aren’t many civilians in the Council, just three members out of a total of twenty-four. The Council heads the entire al-Faruk katiba, over all its zone of operation – Homs, al-Qusayr, etc. Muhannad doesn’t want to say how many men they have. He is already wanted by the mukhabarat, that’s why he has no problem with us taking down or publishing his name. Again he strikes me with his calm, reasonable, sensible, poised bearing.
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Return by car with Imad to the apartment of Hassan’s men. Quick burst of acceleration at an intersection, because of the snipers.
9:45 PM. Seven months ago, Imad tells us, he and his friends burned down a beer shop. The owner was Alawite, he was photographing the demonstrations and the FSA accused him of transmitting information to the mukhabarat.
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28 “Tomorrow, God willing.”
29 A liwa is a brigade, a katiba is a battalion. ‘Abd ar-Razzaq Tlass and his colleagues, then, were planning the mutiny of between 10,000 and 12,000 men.
30 Major.