Winter, ruins and neglect: Yarmouk refugee camp's returning families face harsh reality

Among the ruins of one of Syria's largest refugee camps, life cautiously returns as families face cold, debris, and the legacy of Assad-era devastation

Society

6 min read

Tamara Davison and Jessie Williams

27 January, 2026

Rafa and her family do what they can to make the concrete apartment feel like home: a map of Palestine adorns a bright pink living room wall, and a keffiyeh covers the hole in their front door. But decorations don't protect them against the bitter cold settling across the Yarmouk refugee camp in Syria.

"I am worried that the children will get sick from the cold and the damp," says the 30-year-old mother of two, balancing her baby on her lap while motioning toward the gaping hole in the ceiling of their house. "Yesterday morning, the whole floor was wet from the rain."

Suhair, the 47-year-old matriarch sitting next to her, says the family returned to the ruins of their home because, like most people coming back to Yarmouk, they simply can't afford rent elsewhere in Syria. But efforts to cover up the enormous holes carved out by Assad-era missiles had proved futile against recent storms.

Yarmouk endured a devastating siege and years of bombardment during the Bashar al-Assad regime, destroying 72 percent of buildings, forcing residents to flee and leaving the neighbourhood effectively unlivable. Yet more than 15,300 people call it home today, even though winter has become a battle of survival against sub-zero temperatures.

"We are suffering a lot," says Suhair, "There's no electricity, no water, nothing."

Yamrouk camp

Just over a year since the fall of the regime, families have started to return to Yarmouk in increasing numbers — 80% of them are Palestinian. Many live among hollowed-out buildings; ghostly reminders of a war they long to forget.

But hope for the new government helmed by Ahmed al-Sharaa has faded. At least $381 million is still needed to rebuild the entire camp.

"There are no actions — actions speak more than words," says 65-year-old Nabila, who lives in two rooms without doors and windows, electricity, or running water.

Having grown up in the camp, the Palestinian grandmother's return six months ago alongside her two daughters was bittersweet. "All the damage outside … is a big change," she lamented.

'It was like Paris'

The situation in Yarmouk today is a far cry from when the camp was a bustling commercial and cultural hub before 2011.

"It was like Paris," says Ahmer, 48. "You could buy anything you wanted: medicine, food, clothes. People came here from Damascus to shop."

Built in 1957 on the outskirts of Damascus to house Nakba refugees, the unofficial camp grew into a thriving suburb home to at least 160,000 Palestinians — the largest Palestinian community outside their homeland at the time. But when mass protests erupted in Yarmouk in 2011, Palestinians there were met with fierce brutality by the Assad regime.

"[The residents] supported the Syrian revolution from the first days," Ahmer recalls. No longer a safe haven for Palestinians, it became a prison with the population held under a siege for two years, cutting off tens of thousands of civilians from food, medicine, and humanitarian aid. At least 200 people starved to death.

"When the Islamic State group (IS) came to the camp [in April 2015], and the bombing was bad, that's when we left," says Ahmer, "but it was very hard."

The continued devastation wrought by Assad's intense bombing campaign and blockade led to Yarmouk being dubbed "Syria's Gaza". Only after the fall of Assad did families start to plan their return — but the reality that confronts Yarmouk remains one of deep hardship and uncertainty.

Ahmer now lives with his Syrian wife, Rania, 40, and their four children in a damp basement flat with cracked windows and a mouse infestation. A single battery-run light barely illuminates the cold room around them.

Rania, struggling with a persistent cough, doesn't let her children play outside because of the "dangers" among the rubble. One of her boys also has a respiratory condition, but there's little access to healthcare.

"We feel forgotten about," Ahmer says. "We are suffering a lot here, especially because we don't have any fuel to cook or to keep warm during the winter."

Despite hopes that the new interim government will help to rebuild the camp, Ahmer explains, "Most of the work is being done by individuals." Many families also rely on the few NGOs operating within the camp for support.

Syria camp 2

Life returns

Molham Volunteering Team, a Syrian charity delivering humanitarian aid to displaced people, is among the organisations working in Yarmouk, along with UNRWA.

Having grown up as a refugee in Jordan, Mohamad Khanji, MEAL Manager at Molham, says he had mixed emotions upon first seeing the devastation in Yarmouk. "Seeing the people facing the same conditions [that] I felt in Jordan, they are in a hard situation,” he tells The New Arab. "I try to support them as much as possible."

According to Molham's assessment, the camp urgently needs to rebuild its collapsed sewage network and the large-scale rehabilitation of most buildings. Yarmouk residents also desperately need reliable water and electricity services, and for rubble to be cleared from the streets.

Despite their best efforts, a lack of funding and government support means reconstruction efforts are "very slow and uneven," says Mohamad. "The new government is facing several financial constraints after many years of conflict, and there is no support coming from big donors to Syria," he says, adding, "What is needed is a strong international donor engagement with NGOs."

Mohamad also believes there is a "strong recovery potential" if there is large-scale support in the future. "Maybe [Yarmouk] will be like another Paris again — I hope so."

Like other areas devastated by war, the neglect and slow reconstruction of Yarmouk may reflect the future awaiting places like Gaza. Yet the Syrian camp is also showing signs of life — and resilience.

Shops have opened along the main thoroughfare, a new football pitch has been built, and there is optimism that reconstruction efforts will gather pace across the 2.1 sq km camp. For many Yarmouk residents — direct descendants of Nabka refugees — dreams of the future also include hopes of one day returning to their homeland.

Rafa's brother-in-law, Jaber, 28, was responsible for painting their living room pink and adding the delicate touches of Palestinian heritage. The interiors are a bold contrast to the sea of grey ruins outside, but they also symbolise hope of what may come.

Children_play_football — *Children play football in Yarmouk – once dubbed 'Syria's Gaza' [Jessie Williams]*

Jaber_Syria — *Jaber outside the pink apartment that he painted [Tamara Davison]*

"We 100% hope that we will return [to Palestine]. We live, and we were born here. Syria is our second country. We have hope for both Syria and Palestine: hope for rebuilding in Syria, and hope for returning to Palestine," says Jaber.

"The hope is in the new generation," he adds, while playing with his young nephew under the outline of Palestine on their living room wall.

"We hope that they don't see the days of war that we lived through."

[Cover photo: A Palestinian flag hangs between buildings in Yarmouk, once a thriving suburb home to at least 160,000 Palestinians — the largest Palestinian community outside their homeland [Jessie Williams]]

Tamara Davison is a British freelance journalist reporting across the Middle East on humanitarian issues, post-conflict resolution and migration

Follow her on Instagram: @tamaradavison_

Jessie Williams is a freelance journalist, editor, and writer based in London. Her interest lies in global current affairs, humanitarian issues, women's rights, migration, culture, and politics to explore the human stories behind the headlines

Follow her on Instagram: @jessie will