Widowed, imprisoned, detained: remnants of Islamic State in limbo in 
		Syria
		
		 
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		 [February 12, 2020] 
		By Goran Tomasevic and Issam Abdallah 
		 
		QAMISHLI, Syria (Reuters) - In northeastern 
		Syria, prisons and detention camps hold thousands of men, women and 
		children whose lives are in limbo nearly a year after the final defeat 
		of Islamic State to which they once belonged. 
		 
		The area around Qamishli city is mainly controlled by Kurdish fighters 
		who helped defeat the Islamist militant group. They have since been 
		pushed into a small pocket of northeastern Syria by Turkish-led forces 
		who consider them a security threat. 
		 
		Kurdish forces bear the brunt of looking after those captured as Islamic 
		State collapsed, including hundreds of foreigners who fought alongside 
		local militants to create a self-declared caliphate in the Middle East. 
		 
		What to do with the remnants of Islamic State, whose fighters tortured 
		and executed thousands of people during its zenith from 2014, is a 
		thorny issue for countries whose citizens went to fight with the group. 
		
		
		  
		
		 
		 
		Many European countries, for example, have hesitated to repatriate 
		nationals, fearing a public backlash if they do. Europeans comprise a 
		fifth of the roughly 10,000 Islamic State fighters held captive in Syria 
		by Kurdish militias. 
		 
		Kurdish officials say they lack the resources to properly detain, 
		investigate and prosecute the large number of prisoners as well as their 
		families in camps. They have called repeatedly on foreign nations to 
		take back their citizens. 
		 
		"We want to know what our fate is," said Mahmoud Mohammad, an IS fighter 
		from Syria held by Kurdish forces in a prison near the town of Hasaka, 
		south of Qamishli. 
		 
		"We don't know anything about our families," he told Reuters in an 
		interview arranged and supervised by Kurdish security forces during a 
		sanctioned visit to the jail. 
		 
		"We don't know if they're alive or dead, in Syria or outside. I want to 
		know my sentence and my fate." 
		 
		Mohammad, whose nom de guerre is Abu Hamza, was one of nine men 
		interviewed by Reuters in two prisons - one located near Hasaka and the 
		other the town's central jail. 
		 
		Most were from Syria or Iraq, one was from the United States and another 
		from Belgium. 
		 
		Some were fighters, others said they were corralled into working for 
		Islamic State as the movement won territory across Syria and Iraq. 
		 
		"I worked with (Islamic State) as a civilian," said Abdurrahman Mustafa 
		al-Jomaa, a 32-year-old Syrian from Raqqa, who was being held at the 
		central Hasaka jail. 
		 
		"My sentence is 2 years. I'm married and have two children. My family is 
		in Raqqa and they come and visit me." 
		 
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			Foreign prisoners, suspected of being part of the Islamic State, lie 
			in a prison cell in Hasaka, Syria, January 7, 2020. REUTERS/Goran 
			Tomasevic 
            
  
            CROWDED PRISON, SPRAWLING CAMP 
			 
			Conditions in the prison near Hasaka, which used to be a school 
			before being transformed to cope with the influx of captives, were 
			markedly worse than those at the central jail. 
			 
			Reuters reporters saw more than 50 men lying head-to-toe across the 
			floor of one cell, leaving virtually no room to move. Natural light 
			was minimal and the air was heavy with the smell of sweat and dirt. 
			 
			In a hospital on the ground floor, about 100 men crowded on to 
			around half the number of beds suffering from ailments and injuries. 
			Several were in orange jumpsuits, similar to those often worn by IS 
			captives before they were executed. 
			 
			Beyond the prisons, thousands of mostly woman and children are 
			detained in camps in the area. 
			 
			The al-Hol facility in Hasaka province is the biggest and holds tens 
			of thousands of people in a sprawling camp of white canvas tents 
			that provide minimal shelter from the winter cold and rain. 
			 
			Children play on muddy paths and large puddles full of refuse 
			collect in open spaces. Women wearing black robes and niqabs move 
			around in small groups, chatting or carrying out daily chores. 
			 
			Most women approached by Reuters for an interview declined and some 
			were verbally hostile. 
			 
			One who agreed to talk did not give her name, but spoke in broken 
			English and said she was originally from Hong Kong before coming to 
			the Middle East to join Islamic State. 
            
			  
             
			 
			"I have one child and my husband died in Baghouz," she said, flanked 
			by her toddler son. The town of Baghouz, Islamic State's last 
			enclave in eastern Syria, fell to U.S.-backed Kurdish forces in 
			spring last year. 
			 
			The woman said she was in touch with her family in Hong Kong but did 
			not want to return. 
			 
			"I know here the situation is very difficult. This is not home, it's 
			just a tent ... but we all live to (the wishes of) Allah, so 
			God-willing, all is good." 
			 
			(Writing by Mike Collett-White; Editing by Alexandra Hudson) 
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