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 That was last November. The 30-year-old had been shopping in
Hamra, a 15-minute drive away. She has yet to come home.
Lulu's disappearance was one of many believed to have occurred in
the weeks leading up to the peace talks in Geneva between President
Bashar al-Assad's government and members of Syria's political
opposition in exile.
The opposition say they have the names of nearly 50,000 detainees
whose release they are seeking. Trying to highlight the issue on the
opening day of the talks, two opposition delegates carried pictures
of veteran dissident Abdelaziz al-Khayyer, who disappeared in
Damascus two years ago.
The government said the list it was presented with had far fewer
names that the opposition maintained and that most of them had
either been released already or were never detained.
But in Damascus, arbitrary detentions continue to devastate families
who have no way of finding their loved ones.
Those who survive detention face further hardship upon release.
Often they are "advised" by authorities to leave the country. Many
of those who can't end up afraid, and vulnerable to extortion by
corrupt officials.
Ayman, who is in his mid-50s, was detained briefly in 2011 — the
year that protests first broke out against Assad — on suspicion of
organizing protests, a charge he denies.
During his two-week detention at another of Syria's main
intelligence agencies, known as Palestine Branch, he said he
underwent beating, humiliation and psychological abuse.
Ayman's account echoed many cases cited in a report issued by the
U.S.-based Human Right Watch three months ago, which accused Syrian
authorities of holding tens of thousands of political detainees and
said arbitrary detention and torture had become "business as usual
for Syrian security forces".
On the eve of the Geneva talks last week Syria denied a report which
purported to show the systematic torture and killing of about 11,000
detainees, calling it an attempt to undermine the negotiation.
Ayman was released without further charges and advised to promptly
leave the country, something he says he could not do because of his
business and family ties.
"I keep hearing from them. Just the other day they called and said I
should ‘come over for a visit and a cup of coffee', but I didn't,"
he said from his home in central Damascus. He was referring to a
common way in which the authorities invite people to interrogation
and sometimes detention.
He says every few months he gets a visit from an intelligence
official and ends up bribing him, to buy more time. "I think I've
spent some $3,000 on bribes since my release," he said.
Though the time he spent in detention is relatively short compared
to most former detainees, the experience has left him too afraid to
approach government buildings, including the municipality or even
the state-run phone company.
"Not even to order an Internet line," he said. "My wife goes instead
of me. Psychologically, I just can't." He echoes the fears of many
former detainees who avoid any form of contact with the government,
for fear of being detained again.
FLEEING ABROAD
Other former detainees end up heeding the warning to leave.
"I wasn't going to live paralyzed by paranoia, not to mention the
fear for my safety that my family felt all the time," said Mohammad,
28.
He was recently released after 20 months in detention in Damascus
and, like other former detainees, asked to be identified only by his
first name. During his captivity, Mohammad's older brother was also
detained and died in custody.
"They told me that as long as I'm in Syria, they could not guarantee
I wouldn't be detained again by some other intelligence branch, just
like my brother was," said Mohammad during a recent meeting with
Reuters in neighboring Lebanon.
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He was referring to his former captors at Syria's Air Force
Intelligence. "They told me they'd already sent my name to the
Syrian border as ‘free to travel', and that I should leave as soon
as possible for my own good."
Like thousands of former detainees in exile, Mohammad has no idea
when he might be able to return. For now, he plans to etch out a
living in Lebanon or Turkey, and seek an opportunity for political
asylum somewhere in Europe.
POWERLESS
Relatives of the disappeared are too frightened to discuss their
ordeal, and usually powerless to help them.
Lulu's relatives are no different. Worried that they might attract
the wrath of authorities, they never discuss the calamity over the
phone or in front of strangers. They agreed to speak to Reuters on
condition that their family name is withheld, and that only their
daughter's nickname is used.
They also declined to say exactly why she may have been held, other
than the fact that she had been involved in charitable work, an
occupation which often draws the accusation from authorities of
supporting Assad's opponents.
The family — like many others in their position — have been
approached by the growing number of shady intermediaries who offer
help in return for exorbitant sums of money.
"They tell you they can deliver clothes and extra food to her, and
that they can bribe the interrogator on your behalf to go easy on
her. They sell you the moon," said Lulu's brother. "We'll pay
whatever it takes to get her out, but we don't know who to trust. We
don't know where to go."
A family member who works in senior management at Syria's cell phone
company managed to trace her cell phone signal all the way from
Hamra to Air Force Intelligence, where it finally went out, offering
a clue as to where she might have ended up.
Lulu's family also went to Hamra with Lulu's picture to ask traders
if they saw her on the day she vanished. Several eye witnesses said
they saw her approached by three state security men who forced her
into a white, unmarked van.
After further investigation, the family now believe that Lulu is
alive and detained in one of the intelligence branches, which they
declined to name for fear she might be singled out. But they still
do not know the charges brought against their daughter, or how to
help secure her release.
Damascus-based human rights attorney Anwar al Bunni said no lawyer
can help Lulu unless her case surfaces in court, a due process that
many detainees are denied.
He added that conditions in detention centers have deteriorated so
much due to overcrowding that some 50 detainees die each day from
asphyxiation or from lack of sleep or water as they spend days in
filthy, standing-room only cells — an image that evokes Lulu's
family's worst nightmare.
"We're so worried about her. She's dainty and delicate and weighs
barely 45 kg (100 lbs). How much can she withstand in some horrible
state detention centre?" said her mother.
(The identity of the reporter has been withheld for security
reasons. Editing by Dominic Evans and Anna Willard)
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