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Meet the women leading Syria’s fight for survival and recovery

A woman in hijab heads to work as a neonatal nurse at the Al-Amal Maternity Hospital in Aleppo.

“My greatest wish is for everyone to finally have access to the healthcare they need without barriers,” says Samah, 45. She fled violence in her hometown and now works as an incubator nurse at the Neonatal Unit at the Al-Amal hospital in Aleppo. Photo: 4K Productions/CARE

“My greatest wish is for everyone to finally have access to the healthcare they need without barriers,” says Samah, 45. She fled violence in her hometown and now works as an incubator nurse at the Neonatal Unit at the Al-Amal hospital in Aleppo. Photo: 4K Productions/CARE

After years of war, natural disasters, and hardship, Syrians face immense challenges. Women are at the forefront of rebuilding their communities, proving that hope and resilience can light the path to recovery.

For almost fourteen years, Syria has been torn apart by conflict. The devastation is everywhere: bombed-out cities, ruined infrastructure, and shattered lives. Since 2021, a years-long drought has ravaged the country’s agricultural systems, making it hard for families make any income from farming or even to get enough to eat. In 2023, the country was further devastated by two massive earthquakes, which killed nearly 6,000 people and displaced another 600,000.

Yet, despite the grim headlines, there’s a new chapter in Syria’s story.

On Dec. 8, 2024, Turkish-backed opposition forces seized control of Damascus, overthrowing President Bashar al-Assad. But while the political landscape may be changing, the humanitarian crisis in Syria is far from over.

The situation in the country remains highly volatile. More than 16.7 million Syrians—over 70% of the population—depend on international aid. Nearly 12 million have been forced from their homes, seeking safety within Syria or in neighboring countries. Women and children bear the brunt of this crisis in overcrowded camps with uncertain access to food, water, and electricity. The collapse of essential services like healthcare and education leaves women and children particularly vulnerable to both physical dangers and limited future opportunities.

A mother in hijab and face mask prepares her child to go outside in a makeshift refugee camp hosting internally displaced people in Syria.
“We left everything behind, thinking it would be safer,” says Safaa, 32. “But the violence followed us, and we had to flee again and again and again. I want to return to my village, but the obstacles are unimaginable.” Photo: 4K Productions/CARE

Safaa’s daily struggle as a mother

The war has left its scars on the land—and on the hearts of the people. For Safaa*, a mother of four living in a camp near Aleppo, life has been a daily fight for survival since 2018. She fled Idlib with her family, seeking safety in a new place, but the conditions in the camps are harsh.

“The cold winds cut through the tents in the winter,” she says. “The floors are muddy, and there’s no way to stay warm.”

Her children are at their most vulnerable, and Safaa struggles to keep them safe. “They need warm clothes, shoes, and coats. Often, we don’t have enough to eat. Sometimes my children go to bed hungry,” she says quietly. “It’s heartbreaking. There’s no easy way to describe what it’s like. You’re doing everything you can, but it’s never enough.”

Until recently, the lack of access to healthcare was another thing that kept Safaa up at night.

“We used to worry that one of our children might get ill,” she says. “There’s no health center and hospitals are very far away. Then I got pregnant with my fourth child, and I became even more afraid because there was no transportation available.”

CARE and partner organization Violet helped alleviate this fear by providing transportation between camps and Al-Amal Hospital. It changed everything for Safaa.

“When I learned about the transportation, it felt like a new door to life had opened for us. It has been a lifesaver for all women, especially for my children.”

A mother in hijab and a facemask holds her child in the back of a medical transport vehicle on their way to the Al-Amal hospital.
“I want to return to my village, but the obstacles are unimaginable. All the houses are destroyed, there’s no water or electricity, and the schools and hospitals lie in ruins. Where could I return?” says Safaa. Photo: 4K Productions/CARE

“Life is not easy here, and work is not easy either.”

At Al-Amal Hospital, Samah*, a 45-year-old neonatal nurse, dedicates herself to caring for infants and their mothers. She, too, fled violence in her hometown. Now, her life is a balancing act of helping others while facing the same struggles as the people she treats.

“Life is not easy here, and work is not easy either. We care for many infants born under difficult circumstances. Mothers suffer immensely due to the lack of proper healthcare. I’ve seen women die from delayed treatment or lack of equipment.” she says, noting that little has changed despite recent political developments. “Shortages of medications and supplies remain a challenge, but we know these tiny lives depend on us.”

It’s not just those tiny lives that matter to Samah. She cares about the mothers, too. One moment stands out to her: a woman from a refugee camp came to the hospital late in her pregnancy, suffering from severe complications.

“She was almost too late for us to help,” Samah recalls. “But I took care of the baby while the doctors cared for the mother until her condition stabilized. It was an incredible achievement. Cases like that give us the motivation to go on.”

Despite moments of triumph, the weight of the crisis is ever-present. Samah’s wish is simple: “I want to see a future where all mothers and children get the healthcare they need. I want to see a future where we can return home and live peacefully with our families and friends. Returning home is not just an emotional need—it’s essential for dignified living.”

A healthcare worker in hijab and facemask stands in a neonatal care unit run by CARE partner Violet in Northwest Syria.
Like so many Syrians forced from their towns and villages by violence, neonatal nurse Samah dreams of returning home one day. Until then, she works tirelessly at the Al-Amal Maternity Hospital in Aleppo. Photo: 4K Productions/CARE

Salwa’s crossroads: Home or safety?

For many Syrians, the dream of returning home feels both urgent and impossible. The destruction left by war and natural disasters has left communities broken and neighborhoods uninhabitable. With new threats like unexploded ordnance littering the land, returning to the places they once called home is a decision that many are afraid to make.

The fall of the Assad regime was a relief to Salwa*, a mother of three from Maarat al-Numan, but questions remain. Should she return to her destroyed village or stay in the camp, where her children are at least safe?

This dilemma is faced by many Syrians today. Returning to what’s left of their homes is dangerous—not just physically, but emotionally. Salwa’s home is nothing but rubble now. “If I return, how will I live?” she asks, her voice heavy and tired. “There are no schools, hospitals, or health centers. There are no jobs. If I go back, what will I return to? A home with no walls? A place where I’ll live in fear?”

Salwa’s decision to stay in the camp is driven by her children’s future. “There’s nothing in my village but memories,” she decides. “And they’re not good ones. Here, my son has friends. He’s studying. I can’t risk his education or safety.”

Still, life in the camps is far from easy. “The war took so much from us,” Salwa says. “The road to rebuilding feels impossible.”

A woman in hijab and a reflective vest smiles at three other women, all in hijab, during a group session at the SRD center.
Arwa*, a psychosocial support facilitator working with CARE partner Syrian Relief Development (SRD), facilitates a session helping women process their feelings and the emerging uncertainty in Syria. Photo: SRD/CARE

Healing the psychological scars of war

Beyond physical rebuilding, the psychological toll of displacement and war weighs heavily on Syrians. Arwa*, a psychosocial support facilitator with CARE’ partner Syria Relief and Development (SRD), works to help women cope with the trauma they’ve endured.

“While the recent political developments hold promise, there is still so much fear,” Arwa says. “Women are afraid to go back to their homes because they don’t know what they’ll find. They fear returning to places filled with memories of people they lost in the war. They fear the emotional toll of seeing the destruction.”

Arwa emphasizes that Syria’s recovery isn’t just about rebuilding homes and infrastructure—it’s about restoring hope.

“Psychosocial support is crucial,” she says. “Housing, food, water, and education are essential, but we must not forget the need for mental health support, especially for women. It’s key to helping communities rebuild.”

Navigating uncertainty: Syria’s quest for hope

As Syria looks toward the future, the road to recovery is long and uncertain.

But women like Safaa, Samah, Salwa, and Arwa are already working tirelessly to rebuild their lives.

The question remains: Will the world stand with them, helping to restore not only their homes but their hopes and dreams?

*Names changed to protect identities

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