Author: simitrulon

At a small grocery store in Derik, Syria, one dusty case of Sariyer soda water sits underneath a shelf. “The self-administration [of North and East Syria] gave us time to finish selling the Turkish products we had in stock, like this one,” said the store’s owner. “After this, we will not be ordering more.”

When Turkey launched attacks on Northeastern Syria in October 2019, ultimately killing hundreds and displacing hundreds of thousands, a campaign asking locals to boycott Turkish goods immediately followed.

The sprawling al Hol camp in Hasakah, Syria is a grim sight in the dead of winter. Aylu*, a YPJ member (women’s protection units, a group of female fighters in Northeastern Syria), is one of the camp’s administrators. “The situation hasn’t changed much since you were here last,” she said.

On The Investigative Journal’s last visit to the camp in November, Aylu told us that the attacks launched by Turkey and the Turkish-backed so-called Syrian National Army the month before had forced more than half of al Hol’s security personnel to move to the frontlines to repel enemy advances.

When Turkey began bombing his village in Serê-Kaniyê in October, Jamil Khabat, his wife, and their young songs fled their home. “This is the third time I’ve had to leave my home because of Turkish attacks,” he said. “The last time, Turkey opened the border crossing and let [the militants] in.”

Khabat and his family are one of 50-60 staying at a school in Hasakah. Most of the families, like Khabat’s, are from Serê-Kaniyê. The desks removed from the classrooms lie in a massive pile in front of the school’s entrance.

The PKK sent their driver to get my cameraman and I from our Erbil hotel late in the afternoon. It was dark by the time we reached the Qandil Mountains. We were taken to a house in a village and told to wait, eventually receiving word that we wouldn’t be meeting our PKK contact until the following morning.

And so, when Zagros Hiwa, spokesman of the PKK, walked into the house unexpectedly about an hour later, I was in pajamas and my cameraman was in a pair of long underwear.

The center of Kobani, Syria is bustling, but the mood is grim. Shoppers and shop owners chat in hushed tones, trading the latest news and rumors they’ve heard about the increasingly tense and complex situation in the region. A banner hangs across one of the main streets, asking locals to stop buying Turkish products. It’s part of a larger boycott launched following the withdrawal of US forces from Northeast Syria and subsequent attacks on several cities in the area by Turkey and Turkish-backed Syrian National army factions. To date, Turkey’s Operation “Peace Spring” has killed more than 150 civilians and displaced hundreds of thousands.

Mohamed starts to reminisce about the life he left behind. “I used to go to the beach with my brother, I used to love the beach, that was the kind of fun young people like,” he said, anxiously picking at his nails. “I only left Tunisia once before this. We went to do Umrah in Mecca [an Islamic pilgrimage to Mecca, Saudi Arabia]. I was 14. That’s the only reason I had a passport.”