Saleha al-Abd al-Majid al-Hammoud

Abdul Rahman al-Musleh was my eldest son. I have three daughters older than him. I raised him until he was 15 or 16, when he started doing construction work, and I began to depend financially on him. He had step brothers on his father’s side, but we lived by ourselves in an old house.

 

We were fine until Ramadan of 2014. Abdul Rahman fasted and consistently performed his prayers. Our conditions were stable, and he began thinking about getting married and building a house. He wanted to create a good future for himself and was preoccupied with his work, so he did not join the Free Syrian Army or Jabhat al-Nusra.

 

At that time, Abdul Rahman used to bring news about ISIS. People’s views on them were mixed. When they first emerged in the area, they appeared moderate. However, within a month, they began setting up checkpoints to arrest smokers and those who violated their dress code, and prevented people from working. These restrictions led the men to rise up against ISIS, who responded by cutting off our electricity and water. They continued to arrest people, and imposed taxes on us, which angered residents. This led to the attack on the ISIS base at the Kishkiyya municipality building. 

 

Abdul Rahman was among those who attacked the municipality building as an act of clan solidarity. He was killed during the clashes on July 25, 2014. His friends carried his body to us. It was a dark night, filled with grief. We wailed, lamenting his death.

 

After their initial defeat, ISIS returned and besieged us. The sounds of gunfire echoed around us, but at that point, I felt detached from everything. I was consumed thinking of Abdul Rahman, and fearing for his brothers.

 

After his martyrdom, we buried him and held a funeral for two days. Afterwards, people began leaving Kishkiyya, unsure of where to go to save themselves. We agreed that it was necessary to leave the area and, later, one of my sons managed to secure a vehicle so we could travel to the town of Bahra. There, we stayed in a house under construction, without water or electricity. There were about 100 of us piled on top of each other in that space.

 

Within days, ISIS began conducting raids and arresting some of our relatives. Three or four people were taken from the house where we were staying. We stayed there for approximately one month, but the difficult conditions eventually compelled us to look for a house in Hajin. We found some shops under construction and we stayed there for a while.

 

However, shortly after our arrival, the shop owner came and told us to leave. My husband brought a vehicle and took us to a school in the Hawi area. The doors and windows were broken and the building wasn’t fit to live in, especially with winter approaching. A week later, we left the school and headed back to Bahra, where we stayed near a bakery for about a month. The women went out to gather supplies while the men hid at home, to avoid being arrested by ISIS.

 

Later, we heard that people were beginning to return to the Shaitat towns after registering their names and handing over rifles to ISIS. The people of Gharanj returned first. However, we hesitated to go back, because we were the family of a combatant. Nevertheless, we eventually secured money for a rifle and four magazines and returned home. When we arrived, we found our house looted. Nothing was left – not even our cows. Everything had been stolen from us, including my son’s rifle and motorbike.

 

In the past, Abdul Rahman used to work and reassure me, telling me that he was on my side, and that he would take care of things.