The roads leading into Damascus from its suburbs are littered with abandoned Syrian army vehicles — some so freshly vacant that soldiers’ clothes, blankets, boots and medication were left behind in a hurry.
Crates of guns and munitions were ripped apart and pilfered by young men on motorbikes, excited to get a piece of the regime they said they were only beginning to process had just spectacularly fallen apart.
“I’m 24 years old and for every single one of those years I’ve had [Assad’s] boot on my neck, keeping me down,” said Omar Seif, a waiter at an upscale Damascus restaurant who was taking selfies in front of an abandoned tank on a city street. “But today? I can breathe for the first time.”
“Maybe now, I can start to build the life the regime never wanted us to have,” he said, grabbing a Russian-made gun from an army crate before driving off.
Through 13 years of civil war, Damascus was an Assad stronghold, from where the military and intelligence kept a brutal grip on the country’s citizens. But in the early hours of Sunday, a mixture of fear, euphoria and confusion flooded the capital as residents awoke to the sudden fall of a dictator who survived more than a decade of war but was ousted in a stunning two-week rebel offensive.
Public squares were filled on Sunday with celebration. In Ummayyad Square, the streets were littered with thousands of bullet casings — remnants of celebratory gunfire that broke out early in the morning and continued into the afternoon.
But along with the unbridled joy was chaos, as rebels and everyday Syrians over-ran symbols of the Assad regime. Billboards and posters of former president Bashar al-Assad were ripped apart, shot at, urinated on throughout the city. Some people who spoke to the Financial Times said they were still too timid to join in, saying they were not yet ready to be defiant of Assad’s rule.
The takeover by rebel factions, led by the powerful grouping Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, plunges the country into a new era of uncertainty amid unresolved questions about who will rule, and how.
Residents told the FT that overnight, soldiers shed their military uniforms, dropped their weapons and went home. The security forces’ checkpoints on the road to Damascus were unmanned, and there were unverified reports that rebels had begun knocking on doors to round them up.
Assad’s forces were for years propped up by his foreign backers Russia, Iran and the Iran-linked Lebanese militant group Hizbollah. But the Iranian embassy was also vandalised, and there was no visible sign of Iranian-linked forces anywhere nearby.
People had ripped apart pictures of former top Iranian Revolutionary Guards overseas commander Qassem Soleimani and Hizbollah’s former leader Hassan Nasrallah, killed by the US and Israel respectively. The security guards’ windows were shot up by gunfire.
There was also evidence of looting in parts of the city. On the drive into Damascus from the Lebanese border, the Duty Free Mall — known to be a state-owned source of revenue for the Assad family — was ransacked, dozens of looters leaving behind only several warehouse rooms full of alcohol. Inside the city walls, family homes in upscale neighbourhoods were being looted, and some shops broken into.
People even roamed into the Assad family’s residence, incredulous at the opulence their leaders had lived in, giggling as they methodically packed up everything from designer handbags to ceramic plates from inside the house. “Wow! An elevator inside the apartment!” one girl exclaimed.
Away from the city’s crowded squares, Damascus streets were largely quiet with most shops and restaurants closed and many residents either staying indoors or having already run off. Those walking the streets of the city in the afternoon looked largely stunned, or were rushing home before an HTS-imposed curfew at 4pm.
There were thick plumes of black smoke that rose up and engulfed the city, as Israel bombed the Damascus suburbs of Kafr Souseh, which was near a major regime security complex that was said to also be used by Iran and militias that it backs. There was another air strike on the suburb of Mezzeh, targeting the military airport there.
Rebel factions were already attempting to enforce law and order, imposing a curfew, warning of legal penalties for looting and errant gunfire, taking over ministries and importing police officers amid widespread looting in Damascus.
Throughout the city, including in government ministries, groups of rebels from unknown factions were gathered, as though waiting for instruction. They roamed in disparate convoys of armoured vehicles and jeeps.
Some residents expressed relief that HTS had arrived, saying that while they were wary of their jihadi background, they appeared to want to impose order.
Shafiq Abu Talal, who is originally from Damascus but had been living for years in the HTS stronghold of Idlib in northwestern Syria, planned to return to his city immediately.
“My city was the last city to be free. The feelings are indescribable,” he said. “Events sped up dramatically. The revolution lasted for 13 years and the regime ended in less than 13 days.”
HTS was once affiliated with al-Qaeda and is deemed a terrorist organisation by the US and others, though its head Abu Mohammad al-Jolani has sought to present the Islamist group as a more moderate force in recent years.
In his first appearance since his fighters entered Damascus, Jolani addressed a crowd of supporters at the famed Ummayyad Mosque, saying Assad’s fall was “a victory” for the Islamic world.
Damascus residents are warily watching to see what kind of era their country is now entering, and what role Jolani will play.
“Honestly, his face and his voice reassured me. But let’s see what he does next before we judge him too kindly,” said Abdallah, who owns a phone shop in the old city. “After everything we’ve been through, what we want now is a peaceful transition and a new government that can restore calm.”
