‘Welcome to Free Syria’: jubilant Damascus residents grapple with uncertainty

Syrian border checkpoint with Lebanon abandoned

People arrive to celebrate the fall of the Syrian government in Damascus. AP

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There were celebrations in Damascus on Sunday as crowds stormed President Bashar Al Assad's palace, hours after rebels entered the capital and announced his departure from the country.

The dramatic collapse of his regime marked the end of decades of Assad family rule. However, there is uncertainty over what comes next as the city tries to cope with chaos following the upheaval.

Hundreds of Syrians poured into the streets waving Syria's opposition flag and honking car horns. Others, wary of events, locked themselves indoors, awaiting clarity on what lay ahead.

As night fell, the atmosphere was one of cautious quiet, with a curfew imposed by the rebel forces taking effect.

“It's historic. It's unbelievable,” said Hasan Maknieh, a resident of the old neighbourhood of Bab Touma.

Military uniforms were abandoned on some streets, while checkpoints were deserted. Prisons and properties linked to the Assad family rule were stormed, including the presidential palace. Crowds also targeted the Iranian embassy, tearing down posters of IRGC commanders and Lebanese Hezbollah leaders.

Despite their victory, Syria’s rebel forces face a daunting task of filling the political vacuum and preventing fragmentation along sectarian and ethnic lines. Foreign officials and members of the former opposition have urged for unity and stability.

“We woke up to a new Syria,” Turkish Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan told reporters in Doha. “The opposition should now unite.”

The fall of Damascus ended the five-decade rule of the Assad family over majority-Sunni Syria. As the rebels gained ground, Mr Assad's core Alawite supporters retreated to the coastal regions, while Kurdish militias expanded their hold in the east.

The rebels, led by Hayat Tahrir Al Sham, an Al Qaeda offshoot linked to Turkey, have placed the civil administration under the supervision of the last prime minister who served under Mr Al Assad.

Hayat Tahrir leader Ahmad Al Shara, alias Abu Muhammad Al Jawlani, recently dropped his nom de guerre to project an image of moderation. His organisation, however, is designated as a terrorist group by the US and Europe.

In Damascus, the scent of celebratory gunfire hung heavily in the air. Abandoned military fatigues littered the streets, particularly in the area known as Security Square, once the hub of the nation’s main security branches.

Small groups of armed rebel fighters roamed the streets, mostly chatting and acquainting themselves with their new surroundings. No checkpoints had been established, and The National observed cars moving freely, despite the imposed curfew.

At the Umayyad Mosque area, which also houses Syria’s state television headquarters, armed men had established a base. They appeared firmly stationed there, firing near-constant bursts of celebratory gunfire into the air.

Farhan Babili, 20, a former conscript in the army, shared his experience with The National. “We were on the front lines in Idlib at first. Around 400 soldiers were taken prisoner. We knew about the offensive through opposition Telegram channels, but the leadership did nothing. We were pushed back to Damascus, and that was where it all ended.

“We were then stationed near Al Abbasiyeen on the western side of the city. Our officers gave us orders to surrender, assuring us we wouldn’t be harmed. We immediately removed our uniforms – if the officers themselves told us to surrender, those uniforms clearly meant nothing. The opposition fighters offered us clemency, and we accepted.”

On the road from Beirut to Damascus, the atmosphere was electric. People cheered passing cars, waving the Syrian revolution flag alongside the Palestinian one. Children with faces painted in Syrian flag colours flashed V-signs for victory, while the border itself bore the marks of rebellion.

The Syrian checkpoint, once heavily controlled, stood abandoned. Portraits of Mr Al Assad were torn down, and posters of him and Russian President Vladimir Putin lay destroyed – symbols of the regime’s collapse. Along the road, remnants of a fleeing army told their story. Empty tanks bore witness to a hasty retreat.

“You see this mountain? It was all military. They all left without a fight,” said Mohamad, a driver from Hama, gesturing towards deserted high ground.

“Welcome to free Syria, at last!” he exclaimed with emotion, his wife echoing his joy. “You are our guests here,” she said. “I can’t believe what’s happening. I think it’s a dream.”

Mohamad summed up the sentiment of many: “After decades of massacres and chemical attacks, we finally have our country back. Everyone’s happy.” His words captured both the relief and the hope of the nation on this day.

At a hotel in the centre, a nearby bombardment soon reminded residents that things had not yet settled down. The windows of the restaurant shook, and plumes of smoke rose from nearby. Israel had just attacked a security centre.

“There's nothing to be afraid of,” said one customer at the hotel. “We were in Aleppo last week and it was the same: things will calm down soon.”