Lubna Rabad walked through the flat wastelands, which once housed her neighbor.
The only building to leave was a mosque, scrawled its exterior walls from when rebels entrusted control of the region to the Syrian regime during the country's brutal civil war.
Currently, many former residents of the capital's Qaboun district are about to return Damascus (like her husband, Daaas and her eight-year-old son). After the sudden end of 13 years of war with the expulsion of President Bashar al-Assad in December, the frozen frontlines dividing the country melted overnight.
“We were waiting for the moment to come back,” said Rabbard.
Their home is still standing, but they are stripped of pipes, sinking, and even electrical outlets by soldiers whose neighbors say they have been squatting with his family for years. Still, Rubad is lucky more than many others who have returned to find anything other than the tile rub.
The Syrian conflict forced over 13 million people to flee what the UN called one of the world's biggest displacement crisis. More than 6 million Syrians have left the country, and about 7 million people have been evacuated within Syria, including Rabad and her family.
In an interview in January, Syrian interim president Ahmed Arshara said he is confident that millions of Syrians will return from overseas within two years. However, the war continued for a long time, and people established new lives from their homelands.
It is not clear how many people have returned so far. Many have come back and have seen what happened in their homes and homes, but the decision to return forever is not easy, especially if there is nothing to come back. Many others have been watching what happens in Syria and have opted to stay for the time being, including camps in Turkey and Jordan, which have not yet been empty.
An estimated 328,000 homes in Syria have been destroyed or severely damaged, with 600,000 to 1 million homes being moderately or lightly damaged, according to a 2022 UN report. The analysis took place before a catastrophic earthquake struck parts of northwest Syria in 2023, causing more building collapse and damage to others.
The government's Housing Ministry did not answer questions about whether or how it was planned to help rebuild the country. The government has tackled many challenges since Al Assad's downfall, from security gaps to chaotic economies and invasions of parts of Israel's southern Syria.
And the recent unrest of hundreds left in the country's coastal regions – war monitors show that many of the civilians killed by forces alongside the government are elevating the illusion of flashy violence.
Even those who return home, joy is dulled by the damage already done. People have to search to find keys in long hidden homes.
The day after Al-Assad was expelled in early December, Rabad wasted no time riding with a friend from Idlib, northwest of Syria, returning to the neighborhood where he escaped in 2017.
Recently, Labaad installed a lock on the front door of his family's home, which for several weeks was held in place with long metal wires passing through the keyhole. The soldiers who lived in their apartment stripped everything from their apartment on the third floor, except for the blue letters that glowed on the wall, and read “Ahmad.” Labaads thinks that might be the name of the soldier's son.
“If you have the money, you can fix it right away,” Rabad said. “But we don't.”
Labaad was working day when they lived at Idlib. Back in their hometown, he began working for the new government and security. However, he and his fellow security guards have not yet received their pay.
On the nearby street, 50-year-old Khulood Al-Sagheer returned with his daughter and granddaughter to see the condition of their home. They found only one wall standing.
“I will set up my tent here and sleep,” said Al Sagier, vowing to rebuild. “The important thing is that I'll go back home.”
Others chose to live in the home no matter how much they were damaged. For several months, 54-year-old Samir Jaloo slept on a thin mattress and two blankets in the corner of the only unharmed room in the apartment of his late brother in the Yarmouk Camp area of Damascus. Next to his makeshift bed is a small wood stove and gas kettle.
The windows are still broken, but he repaired two gap holes in the wall. The wall has a bullet hole. He slowly repairs, removes the tiles and debris, and is about to build a new wall so that his wife and five children can join him.
The partially destroyed apartment is located on the second floor of his family's four-storey building at Yarmuk camp, as it began as a camp for Palestinian refugees who fled during the war in 1948 surrounding the establishment of Israel. The Syrian War left the buildings to only floor and half.
Around the neighborhood is a sea of grey buildings that have no floors, roofs and walls. Most houses have been looted a long time ago, and the only thing that appears to remain in every exposed room is the grayer tile ble.
“This is the house I married. My children were born here,” Jard said of the building, with his clothes covered in dust and cement spots. “I have good memories here. My dad lived with me. My mother lived with me.”
Standing nearby was his cousin Agad Jaroux, 41, a bearded aviation technician with trim salt and pepper, visited from Sweden, where he and his family had resettled a few days ago. He held his head towards the sky. “This sun is worth everything in Europe,” he said.
His former neighbor, who now lives in Canada, recently called him and told him he was planning to return. Also two other neighbors, one fled to Lebanon, and the other fled within Syria.
Now, Mr. Jaruto is hoping to return.
“If I don't come back, if others don't come back, who is going to rebuild this country?” he asked.
