FeaturedCourtney DittmarJanuary 24, 2025Comment

Scrawled on walls of Assad's prisons, graffiti express fears, loves of tormented Syrians

FeaturedCourtney DittmarJanuary 24, 2025Comment

Languishing in a dungeon cell of Syria’s then-ruler Bashar Assad, an unknown prisoner scrawled a verse of Arabic poetry on his cell wall — an expression of pain and love amid his torment.

A graffiti on the wall of a prison cell reads “A year has passed” with each dot signifying a day, in the infamous Palestine Branch detention facility, in Damascus, Syria, Sunday, Jan. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Mosa’ab Elshamy)

“My country, even if it oppresses me, is dear. My people, even if uncharitable to me, are generous,” he wrote. It’s a well-known verse, composed 800 years ago by a poet defying a tyrannical caliph.

A graffiti in Arabic on the wall of a prison cell reads “My country, even if it oppresses me, is dear. My people, even if uncharitable to me, are generous”, in the infamous Palestine Branch detention facility, in Damascus, Syria, Sunday, Jan. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Mosa’ab Elshamy)

As you walk through the cold, dark cells of Assad’s prisons, the graffiti on the walls cry out. They plead to God and yearn for loved ones. Often mysterious, they preserve fragments of what anonymous men were thinking as they faced torture and death.

A graffiti on the wall of a prison cell reads “Mother… Father” in the infamous Palestine Branch detention facility, in Damascus, Syria, Sunday, Jan. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Mosa’ab Elshamy)

“Trust no one, not even your brother,” someone darkly warns on a cell wall in Damascus’ notorious Palestine Branch detention facility.

“Oh Lord, bring relief,” groans another.

A graffiti on the wall of a prison cell reads “The calamity intensified, and when its knots became tighter, it got released while I thought it would never be” and “My faith in Allah saves me.” in the infamous Palestine Branch detention facility, in Damascus, Syria, Sunday, Jan. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Mosa’ab Elshamy)

Since 2011, tens of thousands of Syrians vanished inside the network of prisons and detention facilities run by Assad’s security forces as they tried to crush his opposition. Inmates went for years without contact with the outside world, living in overcrowded, windowless cells where their cellmates died around them. Torture and beatings were inflicted daily. Mass executions were frequent.

A graffiti on the wall of a prison cell in the infamous Palestine Branch detention facility, in Damascus, Syria, Sunday, Jan. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Mosa’ab Elshamy)

Most inmates would have fully expected to die. They had no reason to believe anyone would ever see the messages they scratched into the walls except future prisoners.

One wrote a single word in Arabic, “ashtaqtilak” — “I miss you” — a love letter that could never be sent to a beloved whose name only the writer need know.

A graffiti in Arabic on the wall of a prison cell reads “Oh Lord, bring relief” in the infamous Palestine Branch detention facility, in Damascus, Syria, Sunday, Jan. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Mosa’ab Elshamy)

More than a month after the prisons were opened by insurgents who ousted Assad in December, The Associated Press toured several facilities to view the graffiti left behind. Nothing can be known about the men who drew and wrote them. Only a few bear names, and few are dated. It’s impossible to know who of them lived or died.

Some walls have layers of graffiti on top of each other, marking generations of suffering.

A graffiti the wall of a prison cell in the infamous Palestine Branch detention facility, in Damascus, Syria, Sunday, Jan. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Mosa’ab Elshamy)

“Don’t be sad, mother. This is my fate,” reads one, dated Jan. 1, 2024. Underneath it are traces of an older text, so faded that only a few words are legible: ”… except for you” — a hint of longing for a loved one.

A graffiti in Arabic on the wall of a prison cell reads “Don’t be sad, mother. This is my fate” in the infamous Palestine Branch detention facility, in Damascus, Syria, Sunday, Jan. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Mosa’ab Elshamy)

Many of the writings and drawings are cries to parents or loved ones. Someone drew a heart broken in two, with “mother” written in one side, “father” in the other.

Some quote poetry. “When you wage your wars, think of those who ask for peace,” reads one, slightly misremembering a verse by Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish.

A graffiti in Arabic on the wall of a prison cell reads “When you wage your wars, think of those who ask for peace,” in the infamous Palestine Branch detention facility, in Damascus, Syria, Sunday, Jan. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Mosa’ab Elshamy)

Many kept calendars, filling walls with grids of numbers. “A year passed,” was one prisoner’s terse summary above a field of 365 dots arranged in rows.

A graffiti in Arabic on the wall of a prison cell reads “This time shall pass” in the infamous Palestine Branch detention facility, in Damascus, Syria, Sunday, Jan. 12, 2025. (AP Photo/Mosa’ab Elshamy)

Some drawings are even playful, like googly-eye cartoon faces or a joint of hashish. Others are flights of fancy whose meaning, if any, was known only to the prisoner. One scene shows a landscape of rolling hills and forests of bare trees, where a pack of wolves howls at the sky and a bird of prey grips a hissing snake in its talons.