Employees who remain at Qadam are deeply attached to the railway, clinging to hope for its revival, especially following the surprising fall of leader Bashar Assad last month. During a recent visit, train conductor Mazen Malla guided a tour through the remnants of scorched train cars and deteriorating workshops ravaged by shelling, where spent bullet casings can still be found scattered across the ground.
Malla, who grew up in the vicinity, has familial ties to the station; his father, uncles, and grandfather all dedicated their lives to it. He himself has spent over 12 hours daily as a train operator. “The train is a part of us,” he reflected, nostalgia in his voice as he discarded a spent artillery shell. “I wouldn’t see my kids as frequently as I saw the train.”
The Qadam station functioned as a vital node in the Hejaz Railway, constructed under Sultan Abdulhamid II’s rule in the early 1900s, facilitating the pilgrimage of Muslim travelers from Europe and Asia through present-day Turkey to the sacred city of Medina in Saudi Arabia. It served to transport troops and equipment vital to the Ottoman Empire during its reign over swaths of the Arabian Peninsula.
Unfortunately, the railway’s significance was short-lived. It quickly became a target during World War I, as Arab fighters engaged in an insurrection with assistance from the Allied forces, ultimately leading to the Ottoman Empire’s downfall. In the subsequent decades, Syria utilized this railway section to connect passengers between Damascus and Aleppo, as well as neighboring towns and Jordan. While the primary station nearby transformed into a historical site, Qadam remained a busy hub of railway operations and repairs due to its workshops.
As older wooden train cars were replaced, many were relocated to a museum, though Qadam retained its architecture featuring Ottoman stones and Marseille bricks. Unfortunately, the civil war devastated the station after Assad’s violent response to peaceful protests.
“The army turned this into a military base,” stated Malla, lamenting how workers like him were expelled. Qadam’s strategic importance made it a key location for Assad’s forces, providing a significant vantage point over vital rebel strongholds in the capital.
Above the station, a government office was repurposed as a sniper’s post, and walls still bear slogans glorifying Assad and Hezbollah, the leader’s ally. “We will kneel and kiss wherever Assad walks,” reads one such phrase.
The nearby Al-Assali neighborhood is now largely in ruin, turning into a no-man’s land between the station and the Yarmouk Palestinian refugee camp, which had been under heavy siege and bombardment from government troops for years. The conflict reached the railway in 2013, vividly captured in footage of rebel fighters using trains as cover during combat.
Malla and his family were forced to evacuate their home near the station, hearing the haunting echoes of warfare while hoping the workplace that had supported their family for generations remained intact. After Assad’s forces expelled the rebels from Damascus in 2018, the station was reopened for a brief period, touted as a sign of recovery and celebration through state media broadcasts showcasing passengers attending the grand Damascus International Fair, while omitting images of its deterioration.
However, the railway system never regained its former significance under Assad, prompting Malla to keep his distance as the military retained dominance over much of Qadam. Following the regime’s collapse and the establishment of interim governance by the insurgents, he returned to his roots and found devastation, describing the shambles of the station — “part of my soul” — as horrific and heartbreaking.
The train cars were left damaged and charred, many reduced to scrap, and the museum had been looted, with old trains stripped to sell parts on the black market. “Everything was stolen. Copper, electric cables and tools — they were all gone,” lamented Malla, noting that even the wooden panels were taken, presumably to be burned for warmth during winter.
In this former combat zone, packs of stray dogs roam, scavenging for food, with a disturbing urban legend prevailing that they consumed the remains of victims dispatched by Assad’s infamous intelligence agencies.
Amid these ruins, Malla and others remain hopeful for the railway’s revival, dreaming it will reclaim its essential role in rebuilding Syria’s economy following the war and the international isolation. They envision a future where the railway restores the country’s historical connectivity between Europe and the Middle East.
Nonetheless, significant challenges lie ahead, with 90% of Syria’s population living in poverty amid crippled infrastructure and ongoing Western sanctions from the war. Nevertheless, neighboring Turkey has shown interest in reviving the railway as part of broader trade and investment initiatives.
This potential renewal brings enthusiasm to Malla, whose son Malek faced the hardships of war through his teenage years. At Malek’s age, his father and uncle were already mastering the intricacies of operating a steam engine. “I hope there will soon be job opportunities, so my son can be employed,” Malla expressed. “That way, he can carry on the legacy of his grandfather, and the grandfather of his grandfather.”
