After eight members of her family, including her husband, were killed in a suicide bombing in a Damascus church, Laure Nasr demanded justice while Syria’s minority communities worried about their future.”I want (Syrian interim President) Ahmed al-Sharaa to personally bring me justice,” a distraught Nasr said on Monday as she received mourners at her home.”Isn’t he the president? Are we not a democratic state now?” she said, after Sunday’s attack, which came more than six months after Islamist-led forces ousted longtime ruler Bashar al-Assad.Authorities said at least 25 people were killed and more than 60 others wounded in the shooting and suicide bombing in the Saint Elias church in the Syrian capital’s Dwelaa district.They blamed the Islamic State group, which has not yet claimed the attack.The attacker “entered the house of God and opened fire on us”, Nasr, 35, told AFP.If her husband and brother-in-law had not stopped the man from going deeper into the church, “we would have all died”, she said.President Sharaa has pledged to bring all those involved to justice, emphasising “the importance of solidarity and unity… in facing all that threatens our nation’s security and stability”.”Let him investigate the case and not allow anyone else to die because of these terrorist acts,” said Nasr. “Let Daesh be eliminated from Syria,” she said, using an Arabic acronym for IS.Holding her husband’s phone, belt and the remnants of his blood-stained clothes, she decried the suffering inflicted on her extended family.”Eight of us have died, including my husband, my brother-in-law and their sister,” she said.- ‘Our turn was coming’ -Elsewhere in Dwelaa, 21-year-old worker Jenny al-Haddad was mourning her father.”My father didn’t do anything wrong — he was praying in church. He never carried a weapon against anyone or ever fought anyone,” she said from her family home.”His fault was that he was praying. No one there did anything wrong, they were all good people,” she added.In a corner, Haddad placed pictures of her father, a 50-year-old government worker who attended mass twice a week.”Nothing is harder than living in a place where you do not feel safe,” she said.”I no longer want to stay here. I want to leave because death has encircled us from all sides.”Since Assad’s December overthrow, the new Islamist authorities have faced pressure from the international community to protect minorities and include them in the country’s transition.Sectarian massacres in March that killed over 1,700 mostly Alawite civilians, according to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights monitor, and deadly clashes involving the Druze community the following month increased concerns about the safety of minorities.Christians “knew our turn was coming”, Haddad said, urging the authorities to hold those behind the church attack responsible and to protect minority groups.- Restrictions, fears -“I am a Syrian Christian, I want to live in Syria whether people like it or not. What have I done to become a widow? Was it our fault to pray?” Nasr said, surrounded by relatives who had not yet buried their dead, while others remained in hospital.Shops were closed in Dwelaa, while in the church, civil defence personnel collected scattered human remains after removing most of the rubble and cleaning the churchyard.Around a million Christians lived in Syria before the civil war in 2011, but experts believe their numbers have dwindled to around 300,000.Syria’s new authorities have not officially imposed restrictions on freedoms, but several violent incidents characterised as “individual acts” by officials and measures including mandating full-body swimwear at public beaches have raised concerns.In March, a dispute took place in front of the Saint Elias church, as residents expressed opposition to Islamic chants being played on loudspeakers from a car.Nebras Yusef, 35, who survived Sunday’s attack but lost six of his friends and neighbours, said that “today, you can no longer protect yourself or feel safe when entering a church”.He said there had been an “accumulation” of violations in the months before the attack without intervention from the authorities.”When you don’t feel safe in your belief, religion and ritual practices, you are a fourth-class citizen — not even a second-class citizen,” he said.”What we want from the authorities is security and a livelihood.”
After eight members of her family, including her husband, were killed in a suicide bombing in a Damascus church, Laure Nasr demanded justice while Syria’s minority communities worried about their future.”I want (Syrian interim President) Ahmed al-Sharaa to personally bring me justice,” a distraught Nasr said on Monday as she received mourners at her home.”Isn’t he the president? Are we not a democratic state now?” she said, after Sunday’s attack, which came more than six months after Islamist-led forces ousted longtime ruler Bashar al-Assad.Authorities said at least 25 people were killed and more than 60 others wounded in the shooting and suicide bombing in the Saint Elias church in the Syrian capital’s Dwelaa district.They blamed the Islamic State group, which has not yet claimed the attack.The attacker “entered the house of God and opened fire on us”, Nasr, 35, told AFP.If her husband and brother-in-law had not stopped the man from going deeper into the church, “we would have all died”, she said.President Sharaa has pledged to bring all those involved to justice, emphasising “the importance of solidarity and unity… in facing all that threatens our nation’s security and stability”.”Let him investigate the case and not allow anyone else to die because of these terrorist acts,” said Nasr. “Let Daesh be eliminated from Syria,” she said, using an Arabic acronym for IS.Holding her husband’s phone, belt and the remnants of his blood-stained clothes, she decried the suffering inflicted on her extended family.”Eight of us have died, including my husband, my brother-in-law and their sister,” she said.- ‘Our turn was coming’ -Elsewhere in Dwelaa, 21-year-old worker Jenny al-Haddad was mourning her father.”My father didn’t do anything wrong — he was praying in church. He never carried a weapon against anyone or ever fought anyone,” she said from her family home.”His fault was that he was praying. No one there did anything wrong, they were all good people,” she added.In a corner, Haddad placed pictures of her father, a 50-year-old government worker who attended mass twice a week.”Nothing is harder than living in a place where you do not feel safe,” she said.”I no longer want to stay here. I want to leave because death has encircled us from all sides.”Since Assad’s December overthrow, the new Islamist authorities have faced pressure from the international community to protect minorities and include them in the country’s transition.Sectarian massacres in March that killed over 1,700 mostly Alawite civilians, according to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights monitor, and deadly clashes involving the Druze community the following month increased concerns about the safety of minorities.Christians “knew our turn was coming”, Haddad said, urging the authorities to hold those behind the church attack responsible and to protect minority groups.- Restrictions, fears -“I am a Syrian Christian, I want to live in Syria whether people like it or not. What have I done to become a widow? Was it our fault to pray?” Nasr said, surrounded by relatives who had not yet buried their dead, while others remained in hospital.Shops were closed in Dwelaa, while in the church, civil defence personnel collected scattered human remains after removing most of the rubble and cleaning the churchyard.Around a million Christians lived in Syria before the civil war in 2011, but experts believe their numbers have dwindled to around 300,000.Syria’s new authorities have not officially imposed restrictions on freedoms, but several violent incidents characterised as “individual acts” by officials and measures including mandating full-body swimwear at public beaches have raised concerns.In March, a dispute took place in front of the Saint Elias church, as residents expressed opposition to Islamic chants being played on loudspeakers from a car.Nebras Yusef, 35, who survived Sunday’s attack but lost six of his friends and neighbours, said that “today, you can no longer protect yourself or feel safe when entering a church”.He said there had been an “accumulation” of violations in the months before the attack without intervention from the authorities.”When you don’t feel safe in your belief, religion and ritual practices, you are a fourth-class citizen — not even a second-class citizen,” he said.”What we want from the authorities is security and a livelihood.”
