At al-Turba Square in Darayya, a suburb southwest of Damascus, Najoud, 35, stands gazing at the city she left 13 years ago, as if trying to reconcile what she sees today with the image she has carried in her memory since 2012.
Open shops, vendors’ voices filling the air, a flower pot on the balcony of a half-destroyed building, and a grocery store reopening its doors after years of closure, scenes she says capture her emotions in that moment. “When I stand here, I feel like the city is rising from beneath the rubble,” she said.
On October 15, 2025, Najoud returned to Darayya after leaving for Lebanon at the end of 2012. She believes the fall of the former regime removed the main reason that had forced her to leave. She and her family had been waiting for what she described as “the right moment” to return.
Yet nostalgia was not the only motive. She describes the years of displacement in Lebanon as heavy, both psychologically and economically. The family lived under temporary residency permits, constant fear of being pursued, rising rents and electricity costs, and repeated harassment.
“We used to hear: Go back to your country, what are you still doing here? You’ve eaten our livelihoods,” she recalled, referring to anti-foreigner rhetoric that echoed around her.
Her husband worked long hours and was sometimes not paid. Her brothers worked for months without salaries.“Employers would tell us, ‘You have nothing with us.’ We couldn’t claim our rights,” she said.
When her family returned to Darayya before her, she felt her sense of estrangement deepen, prompting her to follow them immediately. Staying away from the city, she said, was no longer bearable.
Memory and Shock
Najoud remembers the last scene she saw in Darayya in 2012. Although she expected destruction, she says, “Knowing is one thing, seeing is another.”
“I entered the city and couldn’t grasp the scale of the destruction. Maybe 80 percent is damaged. That was my first real shock,” she said.
Streets have changed, and some buildings have gained an extra floor or two, yet shelling marks remain visible in many neighborhoods, reflecting the scale of urban devastation.
What pained her further were comments from some who stayed behind: “You didn’t suffer like we did. Gas cylinders were delivered to your homes while we waited two or three months to get one.”
Najoud responds that exile, too, was harsh, just “with different flavors,” describing displacement as an experience no less difficult, even if its conditions differed.
A Heavy Crossing
Umm Wasim, 60, returned to Syria through the Bab al-Hawa crossing in September 2025. She describes the journey as marked by confusion and long waits, “crowding, darkness,” insufficient lighting, and delays in receiving luggage, all while standing beside her ill husband.
“When I entered Syrian land, I smelled something that revives the heart,” she said, before adding, “but then I didn’t smell it again,” reflecting mixed feelings of joy and shock.
From Aleppo to Darayya, the road stretched before her through scenes of ruin. “As far as the eye can see, an entire country in ruins,” she said.
To this day, she has not walked through Darayya’s streets, choosing instead to see them from inside a car. She says she cannot bear the direct confrontation with the destruction.
Return as a New Test
Saeed, 30, returned to Darayya in August 2025 after spending ten years in Turkey. He knew about the destruction and limited job opportunities from relatives and social media, yet the weight of exile pushed him to return.
“The main reason we left is gone. I said I have to go back,” he said. “I saw on social media that things are gradually improving. I said let me go see my family.”
His parents were also eager to meet his nine-year-old son, whom they had never seen, adding a deeply personal dimension to the decision.
Like many returnees, nostalgia, hardship in exile, rising anti-foreigner discourse, and shrinking job prospects all played a role. Yet return did not mean stability, but the beginning of a new test.
Najoud found no habitable home. Her brother-in-law’s house is destroyed, and her in-laws’ home is severely damaged. For four months, she has been staying with her sister-in-law, relying on batteries and solar panels for electricity. “We have to rebuild from scratch,” she said.
Umm Wasim says her brother spent about 15 million Syrian pounds just to remove rubble. He had to sell land and gold and borrow money to rehabilitate his house. “Renovation is harder than buying a new home,” she said.
Rents are also high. A relative rented an apartment for 200 dollars, paying six months in advance, an added financial burden for returnees.
Income Gap and Strained Services
In Lebanon, Najoud earned between 350 and 400 dollars per month as a teacher. In Darayya, she was offered 70 dollars. “I was shocked,” she said.
She delayed working due to exhaustion from relocation and paperwork. She re-enrolled at university to complete accounting courses, registered her son in school, and revisited her old school and streets that have changed beyond recognition.
Saeed worked long hours in a clothing shop, from morning until night. “The salary is acceptable, but the hours are long,” he said. He later quit and searched for another job, reaching a point of despair. “I started regretting coming back, but I told myself it’s just a phase.”
He eventually found a better opportunity. He encourages those with capital to return, but warns against coming back without a clear source of income. “Anyone who returns without work will become a burden,” he said.
Water reaches some neighborhoods once every three days. Electricity depends on batteries and amperage systems. Internet service is slow and expensive. Najoud notes that diesel fuel has become more available and bread is secured after new bakeries opened.
As for medicine, Umm Wasim says it is more expensive and less available than in Turkey, with variations between pharmacies. “Every two days you have to buy again,” she said, adding that changes in medication formulas negatively affected her husband’s health before he adapted.
“The Spirit Has Returned”… But
Despite the challenges, Saeed believes social life in Darayya has regained part of its former nature. “Here, social life is still like it was before the war. In Turkey, our circle was small. Here, people know each other,” he said.
Najoud points to the support of neighbors, explaining that one neighbor provides them with water from his private well when needed. Umm Wasim says she missed her neighborhood and neighbors more than the house itself, but adds, “Something has changed.”
Not Everyone Returns
While some returnees describe al-Turba Square as a “beehive,” others watch from afar.
Hussam, 38, has not decided to return. “Return requires resources and a place to go back to. There’s no housing, and education is struggling,” he said, citing obligations abroad and what he calls “psychological barriers.”
He hears two narratives from inside Darayya, one about improvement, another warning, “Don’t come back.” He believes some circulating images are “too rosy” and that the decision depends on each family’s circumstances.
For him, return is an equation involving housing, education, income, and healthcare. If these elements are secured, the decision becomes possible.
Umm Ahmad, 66, has not returned either. Her house is destroyed and her husband needs continuous treatment. “My health and living conditions don’t allow it,” she said. She hears about overcrowded schools, high rents, limited job opportunities, and weak healthcare services. The city, she believes, needs “a sea of money” to stand on its feet again.
A City Between Two Decisions
As evening approaches, some balconies in partially rehabilitated buildings light up. Signs of life gradually return, yet the decision to return remains under constant test.
In Darayya today, nostalgia alone is not enough. Housing, income, education, and healthcare now precede emotion. Those who secure part of this equation take the risk of return, others wait.
The city will not return to what it was before the war, but neither does it remain frozen in its harshest years. It stands in a transitional space between a heavy memory and an unsettled reality.
For many, return is neither triumph nor defeat, but a long attempt to turn belonging into the practical ability to live.
Return to Darayya: “I smelled something that warmed my heart,” then faced the rubble Enab Baladi.
Hence then, the article about return to darayya i smelled something that warmed my heart then faced the rubble was published today ( ) and is available on ُEnabbaladi ( Syria ) The editorial team at PressBee has edited and verified it, and it may have been modified, fully republished, or quoted. You can read and follow the updates of this news or article from its original source.
Read More Details
Finally We wish PressBee provided you with enough information of ( Return to Darayya: “I smelled something that warmed my heart,” then faced the rubble )
Also on site :