This Ramadan, relief, hope bump against violence, uncertainty in new Syria

Sahar Diab had visited Damascus' famed Umayyad Mosque previously. But as the Syrian lawyer went there to pray during her country's first Ramadan after the end of the Assad family's iron-fisted rule, she felt something new, something priceless: A sense of ease.

“The rituals have become much more beautiful,” she said. “Before, we were restricted in what we could say. ... Now, there's freedom.”

As Diab spoke recently, however, details were trickling in from outside Damascus about deadly clashes. The bloodshed took on sectarian overtones and devolved into the worst violence since former President Bashar Assad was overthrown in December by armed insurgents led by the Islamist group Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS).

This Ramadan — the Muslim holy month of daily fasting and heightened worship — such are the realities of a Syria undergoing complex transition. Relief, hope and joy at new openings — after 53 years of the Assad dynasty's reign, prolonged civil war and crushing economic woes — intermingle with uncertainty, fear by some, and a particularly bloody and worrisome wave of violence.

Some are feeling empowered, others vulnerable.

“We're not afraid of anything,” Diab said. She wants her country to be rebuilt and to get rid of the Assad-era “corruption and bribery”.

At the Umayyad Mosque, the rituals were age-old: A woman fingering a prayer bead and kissing a copy of the Quran; the faithful standing shoulder-to-shoulder and prostrating in prayer. The sermon, by contrast, was fiery in delivery and new in message.

The speaker, often interrupted by loud chants of “God is great”, railed against Assad and hailed the uprising against him. “Our revolution is not a sectarian revolution even though we'd been slaughtered by the sword of sectarianism,” he said.

This Ramadan, Syrians marked the 14th anniversary of the start of their country's civil war. The conflict began as one of several popular uprisings against Arab dictators before Assad crushed what started as largely peaceful protests, and a civil war erupted.

It became increasingly fought along sectarian lines, drawing in foreign powers and fighters. Assad, who had ruled over a majority Sunni population, belongs to the minority Alawite sect and had drawn from Alawite ranks for military and security positions, fuelling resentment. That, Alawites say now, shouldn't mean collective blame for his actions.

Many Syrians speak of omnipresent fear under Assad, often citing the Arabic saying, “the walls have ears”, reflecting that speaking up even privately didn't feel safe. They talk of hardships, injustices and brutality. “They would harass us,” said Ahmed Saad Aldeen, who came to the Umayyad Mosque from the city of Homs. “You go out ... and you don't know whether you'll return home or not.”

Now, Damascus streets are bedecked with the new three-starred flag, not long ago a symbol of Assad's opponents. One billboard has the faces of former presidents Bashar and Hafez Assad partly cut off; in their place, “The Freedom” is scribbled in Arabic.

Haidar Haidar, who owns a sweets shop, said he was touched that new security force members gave him water and dates to break the fast. He said his business was doing well this Ramadan, and ingredients have become more available.

Still, challenges — economic, geopolitical and otherwise — abound.

Many dream of a new Syria, but exactly how that would look remains uncertain.