There’s a small grassless public garden in a residential area just off Hama’s Street 40, delineated by a modest black metal fence, and full of olive trees, their leafy branches laden with small unripe fruit. There are also nine fresh graves here, of locals that neighbors say were killed during the Syrian security forces’ recent bloody assault on this deeply scarred, rebel city. The dead were buried here, they say, because it was difficult to get the bodies to the nearby cemetery, just a few kilometers away. The heavy shelling and tanks in the streets got in the way, the locals explain, and so this garden had to do.
There are a brother and sister buried here, side by side, with simple handwritten pieces of cardboard instead of tombstones. “The martyr Safwan Hassan al-Masry,” reads one, where a 20-year old man was laid to rest. The next heap of mounded earth has a sign that reads, “the martyr Bayan Hassan al-Masry,” covering his 16-year old sister. They died on Wednesday, Aug. 3, just a few days after troops stormed this city that the Assad regime had encircled for about a month. “They were trying to escape the shelling,” says a man who emerges from one of the nearby homes and gives his name as Abu Abboud. The siblings were traveling by car, he says, and were shot at a checkpoint. Their bloodied bodies remained untouched in their vehicle for some four hours, until the spray of bullets whizzing through the air thinned enough to enable a few men to retrieve them. (See the bloody protests in Syria.)
“There were many bodies in the streets,” says another man, Abu Ibrahim, 26, as he reverently walks among the graves, most of which are covered with drying palm fronds and other branches. “We reached the ones we could reach, but the security forces took many bodies.”























