Today on State of the World, a long walk home to northern Gaza. And in Syria, people remain euphoric despite the challenges a month after the fall of the al-Assad regime.
You're listening to State of the World from NPR, the day's most vital international stories, up close where they're happening. It's Tuesday, January 28th. I'm Christine Arismath. We'll check in with Syrians to hear how they're grappling with the daunting tasks of rebuilding an economy and a government. But first, to Gaza.
Thousands of Palestinians are returning to northern Gaza this week. As part of the ceasefire deal with Hamas, the Israeli military has unblocked roads leading north and let people return. Many fled in the early days of the war and have not been back in more than 15 months. One of those going home is NPR's producer in Gaza, Anas Baba. Anas walked back to his city, sending voice memos along the way.
Here's NPR's Kat Lansdorf with more. Anas starts his day early. It's almost 5.30 a.m. Drones, Israeli drones are the sky. He's sporting a freshly trimmed beard. He got a barber friend to clean him up before the journey. Because I'm feeling like today is my wedding. And I'm finally returning back. And I wanted to look as best as possible. As the sun is rising, he starts the walk with thousands of others.
It's a scene of joy. Everyone is just like saying hi to everyone. They are walking with an energy. Even you can see the elderly are walking like they are young. Everywhere around him are scenes of celebration. People are chanting. Some of them, they use drums and instruments as celebration. Allah is the greatest.
The walk takes hours, but that energy persists. Now I'm getting closer to the outskirts of Gaza City. I'm feeling that there is like shiver all over my body, electricity that's just like gives me more energy to keep going, to keep walking. I'm sorry that my voice is truly like thrilled, but...
I'm extremely happy. I'm grateful. As he goes, people who have been in the north throughout the war start to meet people coming from the south. It's truly unbelievable. Including this moment. My dear, how can I leave you all my life?
A mother that she met finally, her own son that she was leaving him in Gaza City. She's in tears. He stops to interview the mom, Wafaa Ibrahim Al-Aryir. Wow, she says. I left a boy behind and now I find him a young man. Anas keeps walking. The main road he's walking is along the sea and he takes a deep breath. I truly miss
The Mediterranean sea air, especially the Gaza Mediterranean. Most of the people here keep saying the same thing. Now we can breathe again. And then... Finally, I entered Gaza City. But it's a sobering reality, even amongst the celebration. Nothing is still the same. I can't find any landmark. I don't know exactly what to do here, what to say. There is not much to express. There is not much to describe here.
Rappels everywhere. Destruction everywhere. But you can feel the positive energy. They are trying to hold up. They are trying to carry on. It's not the same anymore. That's NPR's Anas Baba returning home to North Gaza and NPR's Kat Lonsdorf in Tel Aviv. Now to Syria, where a little over a month ago, the regime of the al-Assad family fell to opposition fighters. Euphoria followed in the wake of decades of repression.
But what's everyday life like now for Syrians? And what challenges lie ahead? NPR's Jane Araf has the story from Damascus. One of the ways to gauge life in this new Syria is at this traffic island. It's midday and jam-packed.
New cars imported after the fall of the regime, jockeying for space with vehicles that would normally be in a museum. In the midst of this, a man with a Boy Scout scarf and a whistle tries to bring order to the chaos. My name is Amjad Mohtesed. I am a volunteer with the Boy Scout of Syria. We are trying to help as much as we can here in Syria. Mohtesed has a shop nearby selling machine engines.
Most police disappeared when the regime was toppled, so he volunteered to help. He waves through an emergency vehicle. The oncoming traffic actually stops for him. As you can see, where we are standing now is a very difficult area, so it's
It's getting better and better now. Mahtesed, 43, says Syrians were trapped before between regime repression and international sanctions that isolated Syria's people as well as its leaders. I used to say to my friends,
Now in these gritty streets, he says his depression has lifted. He feels like he's walking on air. How are you? Good, thank you. Lilaya Oshimori, who's 27, is delighted to meet a foreigner. He's from a region near the Iraqi border, and he's come to check out the capital. Under the old regime, it was dangerous to talk to strangers. You never knew who they were.
Prisons were full of Syrians arrested off the street for no reason. Before, if I talked to this person or that person, they'd say, we're terrorists. They wouldn't investigate. They would just arrest people and take them to prison. He says Syrians want to build a new country, a new life. He says the biggest problem now is the high prices. There are no jobs and no aid organizations helping people.
Government workers haven't been paid in two months. And agencies and other countries promise to help. But they're trying to rewind a decade of trade sanctions imposed on the Assad regime. Syria is rich in resources. It's people-industrious. Across the street, painters on scaffolding work on a new luxury hotel. Upscale restaurants are full, to those who can afford it. But more than a decade of war and sanctions have left so many Syrians destitute.
On the outskirts of Damascus, the Harista neighborhood is mostly damaged buildings and collapsed homes from fighting during Syria's civil war. But on the corner where we're standing, a tiny shop has become a busy neighborhood hub. There are new kinds of imported candy behind a glass shelf.
and boxes of fresh fruit and vegetables. Abu Alaa Sada, a shop worker, says before no one could afford to buy fruit here because the regime controlled imports and prices. An apple would not enter our homes, he says. We didn't know the taste of bananas. Prices have dropped dramatically now, but people here are still desperately poor.
A little girl holds up a small yellow apple and asks the price. Assata weighs it on his digital scale. "Two thousand pounds," he tells her, "about twenty cents." She puts it back. She doesn't have the money. Back in central Damascus, there are still daily celebrations. People worry about the economy, but also about what happens after dark, when there's a shortage of police and militia fighters roam the streets.
Freedom, though, that they still have in abundance. And they are still reveling in it. Jaina Raff, NPR News, Damascus. That's the state of the world from NPR. Thanks for listening. This message comes from Charles Schwab. When it comes to managing your wealth, Schwab gives you more choices, like full-service wealth management and advice when you need it. You can also invest on your own and trade on Thinkorswim. Visit Schwab.com to learn more.
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