Bara’a Jali 
Raqqa  - “If only I had buried him with my own hands, my heart might have found peace instead of this deadly waiting,” say the mothers whose joy of victory over ISIS in Raqqa, North and East Syria, was stolen — because their sons, kidnapped by ISIS, are still missing. 

Even eight years after the liberation of the region and the end of ISIS’s brutal rule, which left deep scars on the people - especially women - the fate of dozens remains unknown. 

October 20 marks the eighth anniversary of Raqqa’s liberation from ISIS, whose control was a dark stain in the city’s history. The liberation was a turning point for the people and women of Raqqa, but their joy was incomplete — because many loved ones are still missing, and the eyes of their mothers still look down the road, hoping to see them return. 

Half an Hour That Lasted for Years 
Sixty-year-old Fatima Siraj Al-Sumeel lost her son when he tried to escape from ISIS. 
“I lost my son when he was preparing to flee the city with his wife and children. The family got ready, and we waited. He said he would stop by to offer condolences to a neighbor, then visit the mechanic to fix the car. He called me from the neighbor’s phone and said he wouldn’t be long — maybe half an hour. But when he didn’t return, fear crept into my heart. I called the mechanic, who said my son had gone to a friend to get spare parts for the car.” 

Then ISIS patrols came and arrested him with his friend. 
“The mechanic later told me that ISIS militants had shot my son, who was bleeding, and seized his car. That’s all he knew. I believe they arrested him because he had served in the Syrian army. When we searched for him among the ISIS fighters, they told us he was detained because he was a former soldier and that he would be released soon. We waited, but nothing happened. Later, someone told me he had seen him in prison — that was the last I ever heard of him.” 

Violence and Abuse Against Women 
She never stopped searching or asking. She went to every ISIS post, hoping for news. But the militants, who never learned to respect women or mothers, treated her brutally. 
“I went to one of their checkpoints on Al-Amasi Street with my little grandchild. One of them pointed his weapon at my chest, pushed me to the ground, and shouted, ‘Your son is a terrorist for Bashar’s regime!’ I told him my son had nothing to do with that, but he wouldn’t listen. Then another came and asked for my son’s name. I told him, Ali Abdul-Ma’arri. He went to their prison in the trench and called his name — and I heard his voice reply! My heart caught fire, but they wouldn’t let me see him, not even once. 

Later, someone told me my son was at the National Hospital — which ISIS had turned into a prison. Then the liberation campaign began, and because of the bombing and fighting, we had to flee.” 

The ISIS Era Ended — But the Pain Did Not 
Years passed, and the Syrian Democratic Forces liberated Raqqa and Tabqa. 
“While we were displaced in Tabqa, we searched everywhere, posting his pictures on streets and online. A man from Kobani told us my son was in a prison there. I went with him to the prison director, who said all Raqqa detainees had been transferred to Qamishlo.” 

The disappointment was unbearable. “I came back broken. I stayed in bed for two months, unable to move. I had gone carrying hope, but I returned with none. Later, I went to Qamishlo, gave them his documents, photo, and the date he went missing — but they said he wasn’t there. That was the final blow. I lost hope from every direction.” 

The grieving mother says,  “For nine years, I’ve suffered every single day - especially at night when I remember him before sleeping. I curse all who brought this pain upon us — ISIS and their terror. My heart breaks when I see his twin daughters, now in fifth grade. I just hope the Syrian Democratic Forces hold ISIS accountable and that I can see my son before I die.”  

Retribution Took Her Sons 
Reem Al-Ahmad, 65, lost two of her sons. 
Her first son, Omar, was sleeping in his room when ISIS fighters raided the house at midnight and took him away. Her other son, Ahmad, was arrested later while outside the home. Omar sold chicken for a living, and Ahmad was a carpenter. ISIS accused them of being “agents for the former regime.” 

Omar left behind two very young daughters, now raised by their grandparents — though the grandfather recently suffered a stroke, worsening the family’s struggle. 

Reem recalls,  “We searched for them many times. Each time, they refused to tell us anything. We even prepared papers from ISIS’s tribal office to request a prison visit, but they kept denying us entry, saying they were under investigation. 

After a long time, we were told they had been executed in the name of ‘retribution’ — first Ahmad, then Omar. We went to confirm, but they denied it. Later, they publicly admitted to killing Ahmad, and much later, they confessed to killing Omar too. Yet they never gave us their bodies.” 

Through tears, the mother adds,  “Life has become bitter — tasteless. It ended for me, but I keep living for Omar’s little girls. I wish the news had been false. I still remember every detail - nothing fades. I still keep Ahmad’s wedding clothes, and sometimes I take them out just to smell his scent. His cologne is still there… and my heart burns again.”