Inside Syria’s prison for IS detainees as authorities report an increase in assaults by the group

Within the intricate landscape of the new Syria, the ongoing fight against the entity known as Islamic State (IS) persists in the Kurdish-held north-east. This struggle has faded from public awareness – overshadowed by larger conflicts elsewhere.

Kurdish anti-terrorism officials have informed the BBC that IS factions in Syria are reorganizing and ramping up their assaults.

Walid Abdul-Basit Sheikh Mousa had an intense passion for motorbikes and finally managed to purchase one in January.

The 21-year-old had merely a few weeks to relish it. He was slain in February while combating IS in north-eastern Syria.

So determined was Walid to confront the extremists that he fled home at 15 to enlist in the Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF). They returned him due to his age, but accepted him three years afterward.

Generations of his broader family congregated in the courtyard of their residence in Qamishli to recount his brief existence.

“I see him in every place,” stated his mother, Rojin Mohammed. “He left me a treasure of memories. He was truly loving and gentle.”

Walid was the youngest of eight siblings and the last of the boys. He could always charm his mother.

“Whenever he wanted something, he would come and kiss me,” she remembers. “And say ‘could you give me money to get cigarettes?'”

The young combatant died during intense fighting near a crucial dam – his cousin discovered his corpse while searching the front lines. Through tears, his mother cries out for vengeance against IS.

“They shattered our hearts,” she states. “We have interred so many of our youth. May Daesh (IS) be entirely eradicated,” she adds. “I pray not a single one remains.”

Conversely, the Islamic State Group is enlisting and reorganizing – as per Kurdish officials, taking advantage of a security void following the removal of Syria’s longtime ruler Bashar al-Assad last December.

“There has been a tenfold surge in their assaults,” comments Siyamend Ali, a spokesperson for the People’s Protection Units (YPG) – a Kurdish militia that has been combating IS for over ten years and is the backbone of the SDF.

“They tore our souls apart,” she remarks. “We have laid to rest numerous of our youth. I wish for Daesh (IS) to be completely eliminated,” she declares. “I yearn for not one of them to endure.”

Alternatively, the Islamic State Group is enlisting and restructuring – according to Kurdish officials, exploiting a security gap following the expulsion of Syria’s long-standing dictator Bashar al-Assad last December.

“We’ve seen a tenfold escalation in their operations,” asserts Siyamend Ali, a spokesperson for the People’s Protection Units (YPG) – a Kurdish militia that has battled IS for over ten years and is integral to the SDF.

Some detainees don disposable masks to curb the spread of disease. Tuberculosis has become their constant companion in al-Sina, where they are held indefinitely.

There are no televisions, radios, internet, or phones, and no awareness that Assad was overthrown by the former Islamist militant, Ahmed al-Sharaa. At least that is the hope of the prison authorities.

Yet IS is reconstructing itself within the confines, states an unnamed prison commander for security reasons. He mentions that every section of the prison has an emir, or leader, responsible for issuing fatwas – decrees on various aspects of Islamic law.

“The leaders continue to wield power,” he stated. “And they still give orders and provide Sharia instruction.”

One of the detainees, Hamza Parvez from London, consented to converse with us under the watch of prison guards.

The former accounting apprentice acknowledges joining IS in early 2014 at the age of 21. It cost him his citizenship. When confronted with IS’s heinous acts, such as beheadings, he acknowledges that many “unfortunate” incidents transpired.

“Many things took place that I don’t agree with,” he said. “And there were several matters that I did concur with. I wasn’t in command. I was just an ordinary soldier.”

He mentions that his life hangs by a thread. “I’m on the brink… in a space teeming with tuberculosis,” he shared. “At any given moment, I might perish.”

After extended imprisonment, Parvez is requesting to be repatriated to the UK.

“Myself and the remaining British nationals here in the facility, we harbor no ill will,” he stated. “Yes, we acknowledge our past actions. We did come here. We did associate with the Islamic State. It’s not something we can disguise.”

I inquire how others can be assured he poses no longer a danger.

“They will have to take my word for that,” he says with a chuckle.

“It’s a matter I can’t persuade anyone of. It’s a significant gamble they have to undertake to reintegrate us. That’s the reality.”

Britain, like numerous nations, isn’t in a rush to do so.

Thus, the Kurds are left to manage the fighters and roughly 34,000 of their family members.

The wives and offspring are arbitrarily held in extensive barren tent camps that resemble open-air prisons. Human rights organizations classify this situation as collective punishment – a violation of war laws.

The Roj camp is situated on the boundary of the Syrian desert – buffeted by winds, and scorched under the sun.

It’s a place Londoner Mehak Aslam is eager to escape. She meets us in the manager’s office – a delicate veiled figure, donning a face mask and walking with a limp. She shares that she was assaulted by Kurdish forces years prior and wounded by a bullet fragment.

After consenting to an interview, she discusses extensively.

Aslam states that she arrived in Syria alongside her Bangladeshi spouse, Shahan Chaudhary, merely to “deliver aid”, insisting they sustained themselves by “baking cakes”. He is now incarcerated in al-Sina prison, and they have both lost their citizenships.

The mother of four refutes the allegation of joining IS but admits to taking her children into its territory, where her oldest daughter perished in an explosion.

“I lost her in Baghouz. It was either an RPG [rocket-propelled grenade] or a small explosive. She suffered a broken leg, and was pierced by shrapnel in her back. She passed away in my arms,” she recounts, in a hushed tone.

She confides that her children have faced health issues within the camp, including her youngest, who is eight. Yet she acknowledges rejecting an offer for them to be returned to the UK. She says they were unwilling to leave without her.

“Regrettably, my children have primarily grown up in this camp,” she remarked. “They are unfamiliar with life outside. Two of my kids were born in Syria; they have never set foot in Britain, and transitioning to a family they don’t know would be enormously challenging. No mother should ever be faced with the dilemma of being separated from her children.”

But I propose to her that she has made other decisions, such as coming to a caliphate where IS was executing civilians, raping and enslaving Yazidi women, and throwing individuals from buildings.

“I wasn’t cognizant of the Yazidi situation at that time,” she responds, “nor that people were being thrown from structures. We didn’t witness any such acts. We knew they were quite extreme.”

She expressed that she is in danger within the camp because her desire to return to Britain is known.

“I have already been marked as an apostate, even within my own community. My children have had stones hurled at them in school.”

I inquired if she would welcome the return of an IS caliphate.

“Sometimes perspectives are skewed,” she replied. “I don’t believe what we witnessed accurately depicted Islam.”

After a lengthy hour of discussion, she reverted to her tent, with no sign she would ever depart the camp.

The camp administrator, Hekmiya Ibrahim, revealed that there are nine British families within Roj – including 12 children. Additionally, she noted that 75% of the camp’s inhabitants still adhere to the IS ideology.

There exist harsher environments than Roj.

Tension is significantly higher in al-Hol – a camp with approximately 6,000 foreigners incarcerated.

We were escorted by armed personnel to enter their section of the facility.

As we entered cautiously, the sound of banging resonated throughout. Guards explained it was a signal that outsiders had arrived and cautioned us of potential attacks.

Veiled women – attired entirely in black – quickly converged. One reacted to my inquiries by drawing a finger across her neck – mimicking the action of slicing a throat.

Several small children raised a single index finger – a gesture traditionally linked to Muslim prayer but co-opted by IS. We limited our visit duration.

The SDF patrol far and wide outside the camp and its vicinity.

We accompanied them – traversing via desert paths.

“Sleeper cells are ubiquitous,” declared one commander.

Lately, their focus has turned to attempting to extricate boys from the camp, “seeking to liberate the cubs of the caliphate,” he added. Many efforts are thwarted, but not all.

A new generation is emerging – within the razor wire – inheriting the savage legacy of the IS.

“We have concerns about the children,” expressed Hekmiya Ibrahim back in Roj camp.

“We feel sorrow when we observe them maturing in this mire and embracing this ideology.”

Due to their early indoctrination, she fears they will become even more extreme than their fathers.

“They are the seeds for a new iteration of IS,” she asserted. “Even more formidable than the previous one.”

Additional reporting by Wietske Burema, Goktay Koraltan and Fahad Fattah