STEVE INSKEEP, HOST:
We begin at a refugee camp in Syria, which no journalist had seen until NPR's Jane Arraf arrived. This camp is far from the capital, Damascus. It's on Syria's border with Jordan. Seven thousand people were isolated there until the old government fell recently. Here's Jane's report from Rukban.
UNIDENTIFIED CHILD #1: (Speaking Arabic).
JANE ARRAF, BYLINE: These children chasing each other in the sand were born here in this remote desert encampment. Miles and miles of rocky desert. No water. No shade. Constant wind. It's a place no one would ever choose to live. But nine years ago, Syrians fleeing ISIS left their homes and massed here in the desert of Southern Syria, hoping Jordan would let them in. For a while, it did. But then the gates slammed shut, leaving them hemmed in by ISIS and regime forces. And the community grew. Children were born here, and children died. Without a single doctor here, in a lot of cases, no one ever knew why. They've seen snakes and scorpions, but a lot of these kids have never seen a tree. Some have never tasted fruit. They've only seen a few visitors before, and certainly no journalists.
UNIDENTIFIED CHILD #2: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: One of the kids asks for a water pipe, another for cigarettes. Until the Syrian regime fell nearly two weeks ago, this community of 7,000 people was cut off from the outside world. Many of the men here fought with opposition forces. Syrian and Russian troops controlled the highway out. The desert was mined. I've been trying for years to get here. The U.S. military has a base near here, but it wouldn't bring in journalists. Jordan said it was too dangerous to let people across.
MOUAZ MOUSTAFA: You are the first journalist from anywhere of any kind to ever make it here - ever.
ARRAF: That's Mouaz Moustafa, an activist and the director of a U.S. organization - the Syrian Emergency Task Force. In 2016, the U.S. military established its small base about 30 miles from here as part of its anti-ISIS operations. Two years ago, Moustafa persuaded the military to bring in medical supplies and visiting doctors when they had space on their aircraft.
UNIDENTIFIED PERSON: (Speaking Arabic).
UNIDENTIFIED CHILD #3: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: Water here comes from UNICEF, piped in across the border from Jordan. For the past several years, Jordan has not allowed even aid deliveries, saying it's too dangerous for aid groups to enter. It sealed the border in 2016 after a suicide bomber killed six Jordanian soldiers. And there are other dangers.
I'm standing in front of a sand berm about six feet high, with a trench in the middle. On the other side is Jordan and an American base - Tower 22. It's essentially a support base for their outpost here in Syria at Al-Tanf. It was the base that was attacked by Iranian drones earlier this year.
Three American soldiers were killed in that attack. Moustafa says until he persuaded the U.S. military to visit the camp, there was almost no contact. After that, he says, the U.S. base embraced the community, helping to bring in and distribute aid and providing medical care when it could. The U.S. military declined to speak about the camp. Funded by donations, Moustafa's group opened a pharmacy and started a school. It even took a census and held elections.
ABU MOHAMMAD KHUDR: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: "Nine years we've been without a doctor," Abu Mohammad Khudr says. He had to leave school after the ninth grade, but he runs the pharmacy funded by the American organization.
KHUDR: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: He says all the medicine here is from the U.S.
KHUDR: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: Allergy cream and infant formula and baby cereal. Antibiotics.
KHALED HAMADI: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: Khaled Hamadi comes in for blood pressure medication. They don't have a lot, but whatever they have is provided free. People here first came with tents, but they were no match for the wind, cold and heat.
KHUDR: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: "After a while, we decided to use the clay to make bricks and then walls, and then we built houses," Khudr says. "We came here because of the border. We thought maybe the neighboring countries would help us. But unfortunately, they didn't."
The few here who had some money could buy food smuggled in past regime forces, but most people survived on dried bread, lentils and rice.
KHUDR: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: Khudr takes us to his home for breakfast, a relative feast now that the road is open - cheese and olives and flavorful beans. There are small openings in the mud brick walls for windows, covered with clear plastic instead of glass.
AFAF ABU MOHAMMAD: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: For years, there were no diapers for babies. At another home, Afaf Abu Mohammad tells us that when her children were infants, she used plastic bags. Her eldest daughter, Sha'ela Hjib, is 16. She was born with a spinal defect and can't walk. The parents were told once by a visiting doctor it could be corrected with surgery, but here that's a distant dream. In their hometowns, these people came from all backgrounds - farmers, teachers. Fawaz Taleb was a veterinarian when he fled Homs in 2015.
FAWAZ TALEB: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: He shows us the mud brick rooms his family lives in. They can't afford to buy the sticks of wood that are sold for fuel. So in winter, they burn plastic bags and even strips of old tires for heat.
TALEB: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: "The children here have a lot of chest problems because of this," he says. Almost everyone says they'd leave here and go home now if they could. For now, they're waiting for help - for money to rent trucks to take them back. But they're overjoyed that they're no longer trapped.
On the way to Rukban the day before, we meet one family on the highway that managed to leave the desolate camp. The old truck is piled high with iron bars from their dismantled roof and mattresses.
FADI FALAH: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: Fadi Falah says he's taking his family back to Homs.
FALAH: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: "Freedom," he keeps saying. "There is nothing more beautiful than freedom."
FALAH: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: All four of the children crammed into the front seat were born in the camp. We're accompanied by Moustafa, who's practically bouncing with excitement to see families returning home.
MOUSTAFA: (Speaking Arabic).
ARRAF: "Thank God. A thousand congratulations," he tells the family.
OBAIDA ARNAOUT: (Singing in Arabic).
ARRAF: Back in the vehicle, an official from the interim Syrian foreign ministry - Obaida Arnaout, who's also on the journey - starts singing about Homs, also his hometown.
MOUSTAFA: He's saying, "Take me back to Homs. My eyes have been crying for you, Homs."
ARNAOUT: (Singing in Arabic).
ARRAF: It was one of the many songs forbidden in the past. But for now, these few days after the fall of the regime, the future is an open road.
Jane Arraf, NPR News, in the Southern Syrian desert. Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.
NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by an NPR contractor. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.
