HALZOUN, Syria: Huddled inside a tent in rebel-held northwestern Syria, Umm Khaled says she fears her baby will die unless she gets specialist treatment in neighboring Turkiye for a congenital heart defect.
Seriously ill Syrians in the country’s last rebel bastion of Idlib used to be able to access life-saving care across the border.
But the main crossing there for medical visits slammed shut after a deadly earthquake ravaged southern Turkiye on February 6, prompting Ankara to prioritize its domestic needs.
Born just a week before the disaster, baby Islam needs urgent cardiac surgery, unavailable in Syria’s war-scarred Idlib region where the health care system fell into further disarray after the quake.
“I watch my daughter suffer and I can’t do anything about it,” said Umm Khaled, showing only her eyes and hands beneath her black niqab.
The 27-year-old said her baby was losing weight and her condition worsening.
Islam often struggles to breathe, and a doctor has warned that repeated such episodes, which put further strain on her heart, could be deadly without an operation or treatment.
But only cancer patients have been allowed to cross into Turkiye after months of waiting — and only since Monday.
“When she cries, she turns blue and her heart beats very fast,” Umm Khaled said, as her three other young children sat on the ground in their tent in the village of Halzoun.
“I hope they’ll open the crossing soon,” she said, baby Islam squirming in her lap.
Doctors in Idlib refer most heart and cancer patients to Turkiye, where they can receive free treatment under an agreement between local authorities and Ankara.
Burns victims, premature babies and people requiring complicated surgery have also been allowed to cross.
But after the quake ravaged health facilities on the Turkish side of the border, Ankara halted medical visits through the Bab Al-Hawa crossing — the sole access point for patients from Idlib.
The border has remained open for United Nations humanitarian aid, goods and even Syrians visiting relatives in the area.
Firas Al-Ali, diagnosed with a benign tumor near his brain in 2017, has undergone surgery and tests in Turkiye, where he usually gets medication and treatment every three months.
He had been waiting for treatment on February 23, but then the earthquake struck.
“Due to the delay, I’m getting pain in my eyes and my head,” the 35-year-old blacksmith said.
“My treatment is unavailable here and if it is, it is expensive and I can’t afford it.”
Rebel-held Idlib is home to around three million people, many of them displaced from other parts of Syria and dependent on humanitarian aid.
Government-held areas of Syria are off limits to civilians from Idlib. The Syrian side of the Bab Al-Hawa crossing into Turkiye is controlled by the country’s former Al-Qaeda affiliate, Hayat Tahrir Al-Sham.
The Syrian American Medical Society runs the only center in Idlib for cancer patients.
Paediatric oncologist Abdel Razzaq Bakur said the clinic lacked diagnostic equipment and medications, and had been overwhelmed by “numerous patients who urgently need to be admitted in Turkiye.”
The children’s ward alone has admitted 30 patients left untreated by the border closure, he said.
Around 40 more “haven’t been getting chemotherapy and their condition is very bad — some risk dying.”
Some families had tried to get medicine from Turkiye or Lebanon, but prices were often prohibitive, he added.
“Most people can’t cover their basic daily needs, so how are they supposed to secure chemotherapy doses?” he asked.
Yusuf Hajj Yusuf, 60, was scheduled to have chemotherapy in Turkiye the day the quake struck and said a recent scan showed his lung cancer had worsened.
He had asked relatives to help pay for treatment in Idlib but “no longer had the strength” to raise funds.
“I was very happy about the reopening of the crossing,” he said.
“After the earthquake, we cancer patients have suffered a lot. We have all been waiting to return to the Turkish hospitals.”
Syrians lose life-saving care as Turkiye halts medical visits
https://arab.news/zdpwr
Syrians lose life-saving care as Turkiye halts medical visits
- Seriously ill Syrians in the country’s last rebel bastion of Idlib used to be able to access life-saving care across the border
Aleppo Citadel is a witness to the city’s great history and legacy
- Parts of military fortress date back nearly 2 millennia
- Historian Abdullah Hajjar provides an extensive study
DAMASCUS: Towering above the old city, the Aleppo Citadel has stood for centuries as both a military stronghold and symbol of the location’s layered history.
After years of closure, neglect, and damage during the war, the Aleppo Citadel reopened to visitors on Sept. 27 following months of restoration.
The site has been listed as a UNESCO World Heritage landmark since 1986.
Rising around 38 meters above its surroundings, the fortress has played a central role in Aleppo’s political, military, and urban development.
Surrounded by a deep defensive moat, the citadel reflects advanced military engineering.
According to historian Abdullah Hajjar in his book “Archaeological Landmarks of Aleppo,” first published in 2010, the moat was excavated and reinforced during the reign of Ayyubid ruler Al-Zahir Ghazi.
At times it was 22 meters deep and about 30 meters wide, and filled with water to strengthen defenses.
Parts of the citadel date back nearly two millennia.
The lower section of its main entrance originates from the third century A.D., while the upper additions were made in the 15th century. Most of the towers and walls were built or expanded between the 13th and 16th centuries.
The citadel has repeatedly been damaged and rebuilt over the centuries. It was destroyed by the Sassanids in 540 A.D., but later restored.
Inside its walls, the citadel contains mosques, military structures, and residential buildings, offering a rare glimpse into daily life within a medieval fortress.
Among its landmarks are the Ibrahim Al-Khalil Mosque, the Great Mosque, defensive towers, barracks, and several historic houses.
Archaeological excavations have uncovered remains from multiple eras. This includes a ninth-century B.C. temple, Roman and Byzantine sarcophagi, and water cisterns dating to the reign of Byzantine Emperor Justinian, who rebuilt Aleppo’s fortifications in the sixth century against Persian invaders.
The citadel flourished during the Mamluk period, when it was restored by Sultan Baybars after the 1260 Battle of Ain Jalut.
Later inscriptions document victories by Mamluk rulers over Crusader and Mongol forces.
Under Ottoman rule, following the Battle of Marj Dabiq in 1516, the fortress gradually lost its military role and became an administrative and residential site.
The book outlines the various stages of restoration of the Aleppo Citadel over the centuries.
It highlights that Al-Zahir Ghazi, son of Saladdine Ayyubi, excavated the moat, reinforced the entrance with three wrought-iron gates, and built a large mosque within the fortress.
Later, Al-Zahir Baybars restored the citadel after the Mongol invasion, and in 1417, Sultan Al-Mu’ayyad Shaykh repaired its walls following their destruction by Timur in 1401.
The Aleppo Citadel has also survived powerful earthquakes, including a devastating quake in 1138 and another in 1822, each followed by major restoration efforts led by regional rulers of the time.
Beyond the citadel itself, Hajjar’s research documents Aleppo’s wider architectural heritage, including historic bathhouses and caravanserais that once supported the city’s role as a major trade center.
