In more than a dozen villages across Syria’s Daraa province, thousands of Bedouin families are waiting to return to their homes after being caught in the middle of violent clashes between Bedouin armed groups—backed by General Security—and Druze militias.

“They opened fire on our homes and stormed them. We had no choice but to flee into the desert,” says Tahrir Mahmoud Al-Khaddam, sitting on a carpet in one of the classrooms of the municipal school in Mleiha al-Garbiyeh, now serving as a shelter. Together with several other families, he fled gunfire from the village of Brika in As-Suwayda governorate. “They kept shooting at us even as we were running through the desert with elderly people and small children. We walked over two kilometers without water. We were parched,” he recounts. “Eventually, we had to turn back,” says Tahrir, father of five.

“We took refuge in the mosque, where we endured hunger and thirst. After contacting the Red Crescent, they coordinated our evacuation after seven nights,” he explains. “They took us through Al-Sleem and the Al-Omran roundabout. At the last minute, after humiliating us, they said: ‘Don’t ever come back.’”

According to Tahrir, the attackers were members of the militia loyal to Hikmat al-Hajari, a prominent Druze religious leader known for opposing the transitional government. Still, like many other Bedouins, he insists that his tribe has lived in Barika for over fifty years. “We are originally from there,” he says.

“There were problems, yes—but they were minor, and we used to solve them quickly,” Tahrir adds. “But now… look at how different things are,” he says, still bewildered by recent events.

Suweida on the Brink

It has been two months since Suweida province, in southern Syria, plunged into one of the most brutal crises in its recent history. What began as a tit-for-tat series of kidnappings between Bedouin and Druze factions on the road to Damascus quickly escalated into full-blown armed conflict, leading to a large-scale intervention by the transitional government.

General Security forces and the Army entered the province under the pretext of restoring order. In reality, their presence fueled sectarian violence, resulting in a humanitarian catastrophe of massive proportions.

Between July 14 and 23, mutual reprisals and massacres took place, alongside Israeli airstrikes and the mass mobilization of Bedouin fighters from across Syria. Dozens of videos circulated on social media—verified by organizations such as Amnesty International—showed executions, torture, and extreme acts of violence.

According to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, at least 1,677 people were killed, including 452 executions. Among the victims were 250 women and children, the majority belonging to the Druze community.

A fragile truce has been in place since July 19 along Suweida’s borders. However, residents continue to report daily attacks, indicating that the situation remains highly volatile.

While the Druze community has borne the brunt of the violence—and security forces have been accused of committing war crimes against civilians—thousands of Bedouin families have also been forcibly displaced from their homes.

Suweida remains under strict control by General Security, with no public dialogue occurring between the state and Druze militias. The de facto blockade has caused the near-total collapse of essential services. The UN envoy has described the situation as “many are living in precarious conditions, with extensive damage to infrastructure compounding their plight.”

Bedouins in Limbo

Caught in the crossfire, thousands of displaced Bedouin families have been relocated to dozens of schools now functioning as makeshift shelters in Daraa. According to UN data, more than 192,000 people have been displaced by the fighting. Because of the conflict’s sectarian nature, the displaced are now divided across three regions: Suweida, Daraa, and rural areas near Damascus.

Amina, a 30-year-old Bedouin woman, lives with her family in Al Hrak, a small village east of Daraa. “We’ve been here since the crisis began, but things are getting worse as we wait to return, inshallah,” she says, her voice full of worry. “We receive some food, but we have no gas to cook, just a small fire.”

“For now, we have a roof over our heads. But school starts in two weeks, and they’ll probably kick us out,” she says. Amina is a teacher who fled from Al Masra, a village in Suweida where all her children were born.

Around her, other women say they fled in fear of attacks from Druze factions, particularly Al-Hajari’s militia. They all hope for some kind of reconciliation. For Durra, an elderly Bedouin woman, “None of this makes sense. We lived peacefully for decades. We never had any problems,” she says with conviction. “This violence is new to us.”

Humanitarian Response Falling Short

In Mleiha Al Gharbiyeh, another village in rural Daraa, local chief Bashar al-Hraki is using the municipal building to store food supplies provided by the World Food Programme for distribution.

“Even before the crisis, things were bad. But now it’s much worse. We’ve received over 8,000 people in this small village—both Bedouins and Druze. Everyone is welcome. We are all Syrians,” says the 60-year-old mukhtar.

“Families are living in schools, private homes, and tents on the outskirts,” he explains. For him, “Israel is behind all of this, trying to take our land. Their interference has made everything worse. This is a critical moment for our country, and sectarian tensions have resurfaced after the regime’s fall,” he says from his office as men unload boxes of supplies outside.

In El Karak, another nearby village, five families are living in a school building badly damaged by war. There is no electricity, no gas, and the roof is barely holding up. Ahmed says his mother can no longer speak, but he shares their story: “My family lived in Suweida for more than 100 years. We never had a dispute with the Druze,” he says, clearly stunned.

Less than a kilometer away, Durra lives with her sister and mother in another school alongside dozens of other families. Sitting in a makeshift shelter, she recounts how her entire family was kidnapped for two weeks by Al-Hajari’s men.

“We were captured while fleeing toward Daraa,” she says, surrounded by blankets and piles of clothes. “There were about 15 of us—women and children. One woman gave birth while in captivity and, as far as we know, she’s still with them.”

Her mother, seated on a carpet, sobs in pain from a leg injury. “We don’t know what’s wrong. We’re just waiting for someone to come check on her,” Durra says, pointing toward her.

The State’s Responsibility

The Suweida crisis has not only caused a humanitarian disaster but also deepened Syria’s sectarian divisions. While a fragile calm holds for now, the root causes of the conflict remain unresolved. The government’s handling of the situation has further isolated Suweida, adding a sectarian layer to the conflict at a critical time for Syria’s reconstruction after 14 years of war.

Each faction has crafted its own narrative to mobilize ethnoreligious bases, often with the backing of external actors—leaving civilians trapped in the middle. The suffering of Bedouin families is a stark reminder that these divisions are no longer merely political. They are the outcome of a prolonged war that has shattered lives, dispersed communities, and pushed the country to the brink of collapse.

The prospect of reconciliation now seems more distant than ever. With ongoing displacement and growing isolation, Syria faces not only the challenge of rebuilding its cities but also healing the social fabric of a fragmented nation.

Tahrir Mahmoud Al-Khaddam ends with a clear message, “Our future should not be to live in tents again. Our fate must be decided justly by the state. That’s the foundation.”