In central Damascus, one might question whether a war ever took place. The ancient Old City buzzes with life; street vendors sell sweets and jewelry as crowds navigate the narrow passages. Landmarks like the Umayyad Mosque show no signs of the devastating 14-year civil war.
However, just a kilometer away lies a stark contrast. The suburb of Jobar, adjacent to the Old City, stands in complete ruin. Once a key front line, every building has been obliterated by artillery and airstrikes. This area leads into Eastern Ghouta, a region of slums and orchards that served as a stronghold for rebels opposing President Bashar al-Assad.
Among these ravaged districts, Douma stands out. Once an informal capital of the Syrian revolution, it became a prime target for regime retaliation, leaving visible scars on every building.
On April 7, 2018, a Syrian Army helicopter dropped a barrel containing chlorine gas onto a building in Douma. The gas descended from the third floor to the basement, suffocating dozens of women and children seeking shelter.
“This entire stairway was filled with bodies,” recalled local witness Abdurahman Hejazi. “They were foaming at the mouth, drowning in their own lungs. Most didn’t survive.”
The attack not only caused mass casualties but also led to a broader ordeal. Survivors were coerced into falsely testifying that the attack never occurred, resulting in scorn from neighbors and significant personal losses.
The 2018 gas attack, which killed at least 40 and injured hundreds, occurred during a brutal seven-year siege of Douma and Eastern Ghouta. The Syrian regime, with Russian and Iranian support, aimed to expel rebels from the capital’s surroundings and secure Damascus.
The chemical strike effectively ended rebel resistance, leading to an evacuation deal that relocated insurgents to northern Syria and restored regime control over Douma within days.
Today, the site appears unremarkable, another alley in a maze of derelict streets. A lone poster commemorates four victims of the attack.
For Hejazi and his friend Omar Diab, the event initiated a seven-year ordeal.
“We both went to the underground field hospital to help treat gas attack victims,” Diab recounted from a sparsely furnished apartment near the attack site. “I was trying to wash the gas from the children’s eyes and faces. A video of us went viral. That’s how they found us.”
“They,” in this context, refers to Russia and the Assad regime. Following the attack, Moscow swiftly engaged in damage control for its ally.
Seventeen Douma residents, including Hejazi and Diab, were taken to The Hague, Netherlands. There, they were compelled to testify to the Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW) that the Douma gas attack was “staged” by rebel groups or the White Helmets, a civilian rescue organization.
“They first took us to Moscow to ensure we understood what to say in The Hague,” Diab said, noting that his then-11-year-old son Hassan was also made to testify.
Other participants confirmed this account. Three Syrian medics from Douma told AFP that the Assad government directly threatened their families to force them to deny the gas attack. Western nations condemned the conference; France’s envoy to the OPCW called it an “obscene masquerade.”
“Our surviving family members were still in Douma,” Diab explained. “How could we possibly tell the truth with them as hostages?”
Upon returning to Douma, Diab and Hejazi were given new apartments by the Assad regime—not as a reward, but to monitor them and ensure their loyalty.
This move led many residents to believe the men had lied about the deaths of friends and neighbors in exchange for privileges. Rumors also suggested they received special permits to bypass military checkpoints.
“We began receiving threats soon after,” Hejazi said. “Initially, it was angry comments and dirty looks, but it soon felt like my life was in danger.”
The tension escalated, prompting both men to attempt fleeing the country in 2023. Hejazi headed to the Lebanese border near Talkalakh, a known smuggling hub. While awaiting transport, a Syrian army patrol discovered and arrested him, subjecting him to over nine hours of severe beatings before returning him to Douma with orders not to attempt escape again.
Diab tried the legal route with similar results. While renewing his passport, Syrian military intelligence detained him for 17 days. Escape seemed impossible.
Both men had hoped for relief when the Assad regime fell on December 8 last year. However, three days later, fighters from Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), the rebel group that ousted Assad and now leads the Syrian government, evicted Diab from his home.
“They threw me onto the street, telling me never to return,” Diab said. “I couldn’t take any belongings; all I have now are the clothes on my back.” He now resides with his parents on the same street where the gas attack occurred.
Hejazi faced a similar fate. A local sheikh, now influential after moving to Saudi Arabia, seized his home.
“I can’t approach the new authorities because he has many local supporters,” Hejazi explained. “If I push the issue, I might be kidnapped or killed. They are allied with fighters from the north and hold all the power.”
Hejazi had been planning his wedding
