When I went into Old Homs just days after Bashar al-Assad’s regime regained it from the rebels in June of 2014, there was not a stray cat in the streets. The historic town was all but abandoned, though a few residents had returned to assess damage to their homes and shops. They could be seen a man or two here, a couple there, this one scratching his head, the other sitting on a plastic chair by the curb staring at what used to be his life before the uprising-turned-war. It appeared as if nothing was moving, except for the dust devils. I covered my nose from whatever stench that hung in the air, some mix of broken concrete and bodies that had long been buried.
Newly arrived refugees must get by on meagre public assistance and scramble to find work in an increasingly fluid employment terrain that seems to favour only those with entrepreneurial impulses.
Syria’s uprising-turned-war is the first to unfold on social media for the whole world to see in real time. While this gives unprecedented power for local, grassroots activists and citizen journalists, it also comes with challenges.
On a sub-level inside one of the Smithsonian’s art galleries in Washington, a man stood entranced by the Golden Hour, a six by eight foot photographic composition of Mecca.
Five years of war have unexpectedly reset gender roles in Syria. With so many men killed or missing, women are finding themselves the main supporters of their families and communities, and are often breaking with tradition and cultural taboos.
Something is different about Greater Washington’s new Islamic center in Lanham, Maryland, which recently opened after several years of construction. It boasts an aquatics hall complete with a swimming pool for doing laps and a traditional Turkish bathhouse with separate sections for men and women. It has outdoor tennis courts, a chess club, and several guest villas inspired by 16th century Ottoman architecture. A female chaplain is already on staff, ready to issue fatwas alongside her male colleagues.
Ismael Mohammed of Egypt recalls the moment he lost his religion. It happened four years ago, at the age of 26, when he heard about the theory of evolution for the first time.
“Quietist” Salafism is newly minted term by Western academics to describe ultraconservative Sunni Muslims who do not engage in direct political action.
