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Orla GuerinSenior International Correspondent in Gaziantep, Türkiye
BBCThe lure of home can be strong, even when it’s a place you no longer remember.
This is how Ahmed, 18, leaves a mosque in the heart of Gaziantep, in the south-east of Turkey, not far from the Syrian border, wearing a black T-shirt with “Syria” written on the front.
His family fled their country when he was five, but he plans to return in a year or two at most.
“I can’t wait to get there,” he told me. “I try to save money first, because salaries in Syria are low.” He nevertheless insists that the future will be better there.
“Syria will be rebuilt and it will be like gold,” he said.
If he returns, he will follow in the footsteps of more than half a million Syrians who have left Turkey since the ouster of longtime Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assad in December 2024.
Many had been here since 2011, when civil war began to consume their country.
In the years since, Turkey has become a safe haven, welcoming more Syrians than any other country. This number reached 3.5 million at its peak, causing political tensions and, at times, xenophobic attacks.
Officially, no Syrian will be forced to leave, but some feel pressured – by bureaucratic changes and by an increasingly less favorable reception.
Civil society organizations “are receiving the message from the authorities that it is time to leave,” said a Syrian woman who wished to remain anonymous.
“I have a lot of good Turkish friends. Even they and my neighbors ask me why I’m still here. Of course we will go back, but in an organized way. If we all go back together, it will be chaos.”
Getty ImagesAya Mustafa, 32, can’t wait to leave – but not yet. We find ourselves under a winter sun near the stone walls of a castle that has dominated Gaziantep since Byzantine times. His hometown, Aleppo, is less than two hours away.
She says the rollback is a constant topic of conversation within the Syrian community.
“Every day, every hour, we talk about this topic,” says Aya, whose family were lawyers and teachers in her home country, but who had to start again in Turkey doing baking and hairdressing to make a living.
“We are discussing how we can come back, when and what we can do. But to be honest, there are many challenges. Many families have children who were born here and don’t even speak Arabic.”
Then there is the level of destruction in the new Syria – where the war has done its worst – and where the interim president, Ahmed Al Sharaa, is a former senior al-Qaeda leader who has worked to reinvent its image.
Aya saw the ruins of Aleppo herself on her return. His family home is still standing but now occupied by someone else.
“It’s a big decision to return to Syria,” she says, “especially for people whose parents are elderly. I have my grandmother and my sister disabled. We need basic things like electricity, water and a job to survive there.”
For now, she says, her family cannot survive in Syria, but they will return in time.
“We think that day will come,” she says with a broad smile. “It will take a few years [to rebuild]. But in the end, we will see everyone in Syria again. »
AFP via Getty ImagesA short drive away, we have a very different view than a Syrian family of four: a father, a mother and two teenage sons. The father – who does not wish to be named – runs a humanitarian organization which helps his compatriots. Over glasses of tea and a portion of baklava, I ask him if he and his family would come back. His response is quick and categorical.
“No, not for me or my family,” he said. “And the same goes for my organization. We have projects in Syria and we hope to expand this activity. But my family and my organization will stay here in Turkey.”
When asked why, he lists problems related to the economy, security, education and the health system. The Syrian interim government “has no experience in dealing with the situation,” he told me. “Some are asking us to give them a chance, but a year has passed and the indications are not good.”
He too visited the new Syria and, like Aya, was not reassured. “The security situation is very bad,” he said. “Every day there are murders. Whoever the victims are, they have a soul.”
His voice softens when he talks about his 80-year-old father in Damascus, who hasn’t seen his grandsons in 12 years and may never see them again.
For now, he and his family can stay in Türkiye, but he is already making contingency plans in case there is a change in government policy.
“Plan A is for us to stay here in Türkiye,” he said. “If we don’t succeed, I think about plans B, C and even D. I’m an engineer, I’m always planning.”
None of these plans involve a return to Syria.
If returning home is difficult, staying in Türkiye is not either. Syrians benefit from “temporary protection” with restrictions. They are not supposed to leave the cities where they were first registered. Work permits are difficult to obtain and many work in low-paid jobs and live on the margins.
Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan – who supported the uprising against Assad – has insisted no Syrians will be driven out, but refugee advocates say there are growing pressures beneath the surface.
They point to the end of free medical care for Syrians from January and new government regulations that make hiring them more expensive.
“These new elements cast a shadow over the progress of voluntary returns,” says Metin Corabatir, who heads an independent Turkish research center on asylum and migration, IGAM.
And he says presidential and parliamentary elections – due by 2028 – could pose another threat to Syrians here.
“Normally, President Erdogan is their main protector,” Mr. Corabatir told me. “He says they can stay as long as they want. And he repeated it after the regime change. But if there are elections and a political gain for the AKP, [ruling party] to do, there could be policy changes. »
Getty ImagesNew elections could revive the xenophobic rhetoric that featured in recent polls, he warns. “Those feelings have gone dormant,” he says, “but I’m sure the infrastructure of that xenophobic attitude is still alive.”
On a cold, gray morning, at a border crossing an hour’s drive from Gaziantep, the hills of Syria are visible, just a short distance away.
Mahmud Sattouf and his wife Suad Helal travel to their homeland – this time just for a visit. They have Turkish nationality and will therefore be able to return. For other Syrians, the journey is now one-way.
Mahmud, a teacher, beams with enthusiasm.
“We come back because we love our country,” he says. “It’s a great joy. I can’t describe it in words. As they say in English: ‘East, west, home is best’.”
He and Suad will move in about a year, he tells us, when Syria is more settled, with their four sons and their families.
“I’m 63 years old,” he said, “but I don’t feel like an old man. I feel young. We are ready to rebuild our country.”
What will it be like to be back for good? I ask.
“I’ll be the happiest man in the world,” he says, laughing.