Refugees find new way to cross massive crater at Lebanon-Syria border

In the early autumn heat, Zainab Murtada and her family make their way cautiously across a rugged path at the Lebanese-Syrian border. The air is thick with tension, infused with the constant threat of Israeli air strikes, which have turned what once was familiar terrain into a dangerous crossing.

The 38-year-old treads carefully down the sloping side of a crater left behind by an Israeli air strike earlier in October. While she gingerly makes her way down, she clutches her 10-year-old daughter Lia's hand tightly with her right, while her left grips a frayed black rectangular bag.

Ahead of them, her husband Ahmed, 40, balances a medium-sized black bag on his head while guiding his elderly parents—both in their 70s—along the treacherous path. It's a sweltering 38 degrees Celsius, and the sun beats down mercilessly on those fleeing towards safety, their breaths punctuated by fear and anxiety.

"I never expected to visit Syria again under such circumstances," Murtada reflects, her voice barely above a whisper. "There was a time my family and I would visit with joy, but now it has turned into a desperate escape."

Agonising journey

A month ago, the journey from Beirut to Syria took a couple of hours at most. Today, it stretches into a much longer and more agonising trek filled with traffic and obstacles, culminating in the daunting task of crossing through a newly created crater.

To manage the journey, a cabbing system was organically developed. Vehicles transporting fleeing passengers from Lebanon began dropping them at the crater, unable to cross through, and returning empty - a stark contrast to the flows of people who used to traverse this border.

On the other side of the cavity, vehicles have been picking up the pedestrian refugees, shuttling them towards Syria.

At the hole, porters, driven by the urgency of the situation, proffer their assistance, wheeling heavy luggage through crushed stones and debris, often refusing payment from families struggling to make ends meet.

Four metres deep, the crater is a remnant of the recent Israeli bombardments at the border that started on October 4. With each strike, the crater became deeper and wider.

It is located at the Masnaa border crossing, an 8.5 km no-man's land of desolate neutral territory, buffering the distance between the border stations and customs checkpoints at Masnaa, Lebanon, and Jdeidat Yabous, Syria.

This crucial crossing, which is closest to Damascus, is now filled with tales of desperation. What was once a journey typically undertaken by car has now become a trek suited only for walking, hindered by the newly formed crater, all while enduring the relentless heat of the sun.

Murtada's family was displaced once before in late September, fleeing their home in the southern city of Nabatieh to Beirut, only to find themselves forced to leave again.

"What safety are we talking about?" she asks incredulously. "We risk our lives crossing this border, and every moment is filled with the fear of renewed bombing."

Offering a hand

According to UNHCR officials, around 440,000 people have crossed into Syria from Lebanon since hostilities began. It is estimated that 71 percent are Syrians, and 29 percent are Lebanese and other country nationals.

Syria is still reeling from its own dark years of civil war and violence.

But due to Israel's repeated attacks on the border, which surged along with the escalation in violence since mid-September, many families see no choice but to brave the perilous journey on foot.

Muhammad Al-Omran, 26, exemplifies the spirit of selflessness among the porters. He spends long hours carrying belongings for displaced families, many of whom are still grieving the loss of their homes and lives.

"Sometimes I don't even charge if I can see they're having a hard time," he told TRT World. Each day, he helps dozens of families navigate their burdens, even as the fear of bombings weighs heavily on him.

For Murtada's family, hiring porters was a necessity, although they tried to carry what little they could. Other families wait in line to be assisted at the hole, each sharing a similar fate characterised by loss and uncertainty.

More attacks

In this cabbing system that has largely thinned over the past week after a series of air strikes kept many drivers and porters away, a frenzy of hand waves and gestures between porters, drivers, and volunteers is still exchanged across the crater to communicate.

For travellers approaching the crater, it's the first thing they notice along with the echo of the common Arabic phrase, "Thank God for your safety."

Tensions on the border have escalated further this past week, with Israeli air strikes targeting the same areas again, destroying vital roads and complicating any attempts to provide humanitarian assistance.

Drivers such as Muhammad Rajih said their livelihoods hang by a thread, reliant on the safety of routes now marred by conflict.

"During the first week of the war, I did two daily trips from Lebanon to Syria because of the heavy flow. Nowadays, it's only one, from the crater to inside Syria since it's become unsafe," he said.

Thirty-year-old Jaafar Al-Humaini recounted the challenges his family faced while navigating the treacherous terrain of a war-torn region.

"Crossing was incredibly difficult," he said, describing the rubble and rocks that obscured their path. The dangers of the journey weighed heavily on his mind, especially given the presence of his young son, who has yet to celebrate his fourth birthday.

Al-Humaini, who made the journey on October 14, said the main concern was for his five-year-old child and other young ones as they manoeuvred through the hazardous area.

"I was afraid they might slip or fall and get hurt. It was scary," he shared. He vividly recalled a poignant moment when he came across a girl with special needs in a wheelchair, highlighting the sense of community that emerged amid adversity. "We had to carefully carry her across the hole to ensure she was safe," he said.

Al-Humaini took on the role of a reassuring presence for his wife and child, who feared further attacks as they made their way across the dangerous stretch.

Despite the overwhelming circumstances, Al-Humaini noted a moment of kindness amid the chaos. One of the porters who assisted him in carrying their bags refused any payment. "He said, 'Leave it to us, will you?'" Jaafar recalled appreciatively, reflecting on the solidarity that can arise in times of hardship.

The Syrian Red Crescent has also been actively involved, providing essential relief services to those crossing the border. Volunteers assist the displaced, lending a hand to help carry their belongings or offering transportation to safer areas.

As the Murtadas reflect on their journey, they express a deep longing for their homeland, and for normality amidst the chaos. "We were only thinking about escaping the Israeli bombing. The house next to us was completely razed to the ground," Ahmed Murtada said.

Zainab Murtada adds, “We were displaced in body but not in spirit. Our souls remain in the south."

This piece was commissioned in collaboration with Egab.