Aysha Saleh al-Sultan

 

I met my husband, Asfouk al-Hammad al-Omar, in the Jazira region (east of the Euphrates). We were engaged for a year before deciding to get married. In the early years of our marriage, we both worked to secure our needs. I worked as a harvest laborer while he traveled to Lebanon for work. In his absence, I stayed with my in-laws until we saved enough to build a room for ourselves and our children.

 

After his time in Lebanon, he went to work in Damascus. Our life was going well. However, after the start of the Syrian Revolution, worry and instability increased. After borrowing money to cover the costs, I approached my family and asked them to secure a work visa for him in Saudi Arabia.

 

During those years, I had three children. My oldest son was ten years old at the time. Given the dire circumstances and poor education available, his father secured a residence permit for him in Saudi Arabia. People told us, “Your son is still young. How could you allow him to work as a carpenter?” Nevertheless, he spent two years in Saudi Arabia.

 

In 2014, my husband and son returned to spend Ramadan with us. We had been hearing about ISIS – we hated them from afar but didn’t know much about them. Initially, they set up tents and once or twice organized group iftars (meals to break the fast). However, their behaviour changed, and they started arresting men who didn’t wear their trousers above the ankle (in line with the ISIS dress code). People’s frustration with them increased, and reached its peak when ISIS killed two people in their beds. Young men rose up and expelled them from the village, which led to clashes.

 

ISIS brought weaponry. Our men tried to repel them but failed. They did everything they could. If we women could have fought alongside them, we would have done so. The siege began, and we were unable to leave our homes. We endured so much during that time – bullets fell like rain.

 

After 12 days of siege, ISIS gave us three days to leave. Opinions were divided. Some believed that the threats were real, but others thought they were exaggerated. We stayed in Abu Hamam until the last day of the three day period, until ISIS were within 200 meters of us. That’s when we realized we were in real danger. My husband rented a car. We packed some necessities and clothes before leaving with his mother.

 

My father-in-law had already managed to flee the area. Asfouk didn’t want to flee, even though he was only there for Ramadan. He thought that fleeing would make ISIS suspect that he’d participated in the fighting.

 

We stayed in a school in Bahra. The day after our arrival, ISIS came and arrested my husband – along with 14 others. Initially, since he had not fought against ISIS, we thought he would return safely after interrogation, so I searched for him in Mayadin and Bukamal. Later, a rumor spread that ISIS were going to release 800 people. That gave us hope as we waited.

 

We left the school after it was attacked by an ISIS patrol, and moved into an abandoned house in Bahra. There was a cow in the house, so we had to take it out and clean the place before we could sit inside. Our life was filled with suffering during that period. I continued searching for my husband everywhere.

 

ISIS left four girls and two boys fatherless. My daughters were young – the oldest was barely 10 years old. I bought cigarettes and gave each one packets to sell, so that we could earn 200 Syrian liras to secure our basic necessities (USD 1 was worth around SYP 181.43 in 2014).  However, even cigarette trading was forbidden by ISIS.

 

Later, negotiations began so that people could return to the Shaitat towns. The residents of Gharanij were the first to return. I was in a difficult financial situation, but some kind people donated money so I could buy a rifle and four magazines (to hand over to ISIS as a condition for returning home). When we returned home, we found the house empty. It had been looted by ISIS.

 

I resumed my search for my husband. During that time, new mass graves were constantly being discovered. Eventually, neighbors called me and informed me that they’d found a body they believed was my husband’s. I identified him by his white hat and the perfume bottle he kept in his pocket. He used to wear that perfume on Fridays before going to the mosque. His face was like stone because he’d died four months before his grave was discovered. At that moment, I felt as if I were dying from fear and sorrow.

 

I told my in-laws about the location of his body. They retrieved it and reburied him elsewhere. I don’t know the exact date of his execution, but he was arrested on August 8, 2014. Only close relatives offered condolences because we didn’t dare announce his death.

 

Later on, there was an explosion at our neighbor’s house which damaged the foundations of our home and rendered it unlivable. My family provided funds to build a new room for me and my children to live in.

 

Before his death, Asfouk promised me that we would perform Hajj together. He always treated me well.