Syrian diaspora seeks closure as Assad’s removal offers a chance to rebuild

For the past several weeks, Maryam Kamalmaz has been relentlessly scouring social media and WhatsApp groups, searching for any news about the whereabouts of her father, who disappeared more than seven years ago in Damascus, Syria.

Eight months ago, Maryam, 39, and her family were told by the US government that her father, Syrian-American psychotherapist Majd Kamalmaz, was likely dead as a result of his detention at the hands of the Bashar al-Assad government.

The news, while devastating and difficult to take in, ultimately offered some semblance of closure for Maryam's family, who had for years failed to find any trace of her father's presence.

"Even though there was no body, there was no DNA, there was nothing. It was just word of mouth that [the US] believed he had passed," Maryam told Middle East Eye.

"And of course, it was hard to take that information in, but at the same time, it did give me a form of closure where I could close this chapter of the unknown."

But now she has returned to a state of uncertainty after the Syrian rebels launched an 11-day shock offensive that brought down the decades-long rule of the Assad family on 8 December.

In the early days of the rebel takeover, Maryam had no doubts about her father's death. However, soon she began to see an outpouring of videos and testimonies from other Syrian families who thought their loved ones had been killed while under detention, only to find then that they were actually alive.

She told MEE that she has heard of cases where families had been given the death certificates of their relatives, but they were found inside prisons after Assad's downfall.

"It's such a confusing state that it renewed our hope in a weird way. It did renew our hope," she said.

"I started getting phone calls from everywhere telling me, Maryam, don't give up. Keep looking for your dad. You have to keep trying."

Ultimately, her search has landed her back to where she started, and she still doesn't know whether her father is alive or dead. The lack of not knowing his fate keeps her up at night.

Many Syrians living in the United States share a situation similar to that of the Kamalmaz family. It highlights the complex emotional state of the Syrian diaspora following the fall of Assad.

Those who left Syria and spent the past few years adjusting to the reality of never returning and having that connection to their homes severed are now confronted with joyous celebrations mixed with cautious optimism and uncertainty about what the future holds.

"It definitely was a very emotional time of highs and lows, excitement that Syria was finally free and that this dictator was silent out of the country and people could live in peace. But yet we're seeing these horrific images, horrific situations, of people that are coming out of these prisons," Maryam said.

Maryam says she's "frantically" looking through pictures, videos, and lists of names to try to find any information about her father, forcing her to take time off work to focus on it. 

"It's just back to square one, where at this point, I don't believe he survived."

Syrians who opposed the Assad government and those who fled the civil war are rejoicing over the downfall of Assad while having to navigate the happiness they feel, coupled with anxiety, as they search for any leads on their missing loved ones.

Family is 'all that matters'

Danny Samin's father, 69-year-old Jamil Samin, owned an HVAC company in Homs that he ran for years before he was forcibly disappeared in 2013. In the weeks following the rebel takeover and the freeing of Assad's prisons, Danny has yet to find any information on his father's whereabouts.

The disappearance of his father had caused Danny to write off the notion of ever stepping foot back on Syrian soil.

"If you ask any of my family or friends, I had honestly written Syria off for myself. For me, it's more about what happened to my dad. It was a psychological issue more than anything else," Danny said.

"In terms of sentimentalism to Syria, my family is home. So as long as the rest of my family is here - my dad was taken away - the US became immediately my home. As long as my family is safe, that's eventually, to me, all that matters."

But Danny, who left Syria in 2012 to study and now lives in the US with the rest of his family, changed his perspective when Assad was overthrown and is now thinking about visiting Syria and his old home in Homs.

"We're all super happy that the country is free and people are free again. But in terms of my dad, we're just trying to verify the information that we've received," he said.

'I thought I was dead'

The Syrian civil war began in 2011 with mass anti-government demonstrations that were met with a brutal crackdown by Assad's forces, spurring a decade-long conflict that resulted in the deaths of half of a million Syrians and the displacement of millions more.

Yasemin al-Nahhas was a pharmacist in Aleppo at the beginning of the civil war. She took on work as a nurse at a field hospital in the city between 2012 and 2014, telling MEE that she wanted to do her part to help the Syrian rebels against the Assad government.

This was also where she met her future husband, who was a doctor there.

'I said to myself, I will not see Syria anymore in the future'

- Yasemin al-Nahhas

"In 2013, in the part of Aleppo where I lived in the hospital, it was like the most dangerous city in the world. There was bombing in a crazy way and a lot of people were killed every day."

By 2014, Nahhas decided it was no longer possible to live in Syria, and she and her now husband moved to Turkey. In 2019, she and her family, which included a daughter, moved to the US, where her husband is pursuing a PhD.

Leaving Syria was heartbreaking for Nahhas. She has spent the last few years in a state of dejection, going so far as avoiding the subject of Syria in conversations with her loved ones.

"At that point, I said to myself, I will not see Syria anymore in the future," she told MEE.

Nada al-Asaad was only six when the civil war broke out. She and her family are from Daraa, the city that sparked the Syrian uprising, and she remembered when government forces first entered her house to question her family.

"The first thing that I can remember is when they first got into our house," she told MEE.

"I was so scared. I hid behind my mom."

She noted that one of the members of Assad's forces apologised to Asaad's father as he searched their home, and they were polite and respectful.

But that was at the very beginning of the conflict, Asaad said, and soon bombs began falling on her city.

"I remember that time we didn't have a basement in our house, so as soon as they started, like shooting and bombing all over the place, our neighbours called us over to come to their house because they had a basement," she said.

One night during Ramadan, her family left for their neighbour's basement before iftar time, and an hour later, another house nearby was struck by a rocket, knocking out the area's electricity.

"I thought at that moment, I thought I was dead. I thought I was dead because I only heard people scream and it was really dark in the basement."

The next morning, the family had a long discussion about leaving the country. Asaad's mother didn't want to leave at first, but ultimately the family decided to get out of the country. They made the dangerous journey into neighbouring Jordan, where they spent nearly a month in the Zaatari refugee camp before they were able to rent a residence elsewhere.

In 2016, they made it to the United States, where they ended up in Louisville, Kentucky.

Now 18 years old, Asaad is studying to become a dentist.

'I can't wait to go back'

While the fall of the Assad government has been a cause of celebration for millions of Syrians, the country is currently faced with a complex political and economic situation.

The main rebel group that led the offensive against Assad, Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, was once linked to al-Qaeda and also previously stood side-by-side with the Islamic State group before splitting ways and battling against them and other Syrian armed groups.

HTS and its leader, Ahmed al-Sharaa, already have experience in governing the rebel-held northwestern province of Idlib since 2017. But running an entire country with a plurality of minorities is another task altogether, and Sharaa has already announced that elections won't take place for another four years. Drafting a constitution would meanwhile take three years, he said.

'We're gonna go back as lawyers, doctors, business managers, so we're all going to be able to rebuild Syria'

- Nada al-Asaad

The country is still under US sanctions, with the economy shrinking by 85 percent between 2011 and 2023.

Since the rebel takeover, Israel has invaded parts of the country and launched air strikes on key military infrastructure, while pro-Assad loyalists have launched attacks on forces aligned with the new caretaker government.

"How many days will it be before people start fighting each other?" said Nahhas.

"I hope we can go to democracy, more freedom to be able to choose what the people want."

Still, many Syrians are hopeful the country is headed in the right direction, and they have plans to return to help rebuild Syria.

Asaad, who is studying to become a dentist, says she plans to return to Daraa after she completes her studies and wants to open up a dentistry there. She says she's not alone, as so many Syrians who left now have higher degrees and can return to help.

"Almost all the students that left Syria were educated, and they're now in college and a lot of them graduated college. So I feel like we're gonna go back as lawyers, doctors, business managers, so we're all going to be able to rebuild Syria," she said.

But for now, while she completes her schooling, she will settle for a visit to Syria.

"I'm gonna see the people that I haven't been able to see for 12 years now. I can't wait to go back and see my people," Asaad said.

Maryam said she feels like she has renewed pride in her identity as a Syrian. While she is a second-generation Syrian American, she maintained ties to Syria through her relatives and used to travel there as a child.

Since 2019, when she went public about the case of her missing father, the US government told her she should not return to Syria. But the fall of Assad may have closed that chapter for her.

"Now I can say I have an identity. I'm no longer so lost in who I am," she said.