ROJ CAMP, Syria — The Roj detention camp sits in one of the last parts of Kurdish-held territory in northeast Syria. On a recent visit, children rode bicycles between tattered tents, a boy kicked a soccer ball and a little girl in a full cloak furiously pedaled around the compound. The camp holds the wives and children of people who joined the Islamic State, and with children making up the majority of residents it is both a security and humanitarian concern.
Kurdish officials say a security vacuum created this January by the Syrian government’s advance and the withdrawal of U.S. forces has coincided with a resurgence of ISIS activity in parts of the region. That instability allowed some fighters and relatives to flee other sites: al-Hol, the largest camp for families of suspected ISIS members, shut down in February amid fighting, and many residents either escaped or were transferred. Roj, however, has remained in Kurdish-controlled territory and still houses roughly 2,300 detainees, most of them foreigners.
“I’m struggling a lot. I’m really scared for my situation, for my son’s situation as well,” says Hoda Muthana, 31, one of three American women authorities say are detained at Roj. “I’m just very desperate to get out of here.” Muthana, born in New Jersey to a Yemeni diplomat, says she would seek to help de-radicalize young people if allowed to return to the United States; the U.S. government has revoked her citizenship, saying she should never have been issued the passport she used to travel to Syria.
Camp authorities and Kurdish security officials describe different fates for al-Hol and Roj. Chavare Afrin, the nom de guerre used by Roj’s head of security, says many in al-Hol packed to leave believing they would be rescued by elements of the new Syrian government. Afrin says fighters told camp security they planned to carry out revenge attacks — “They told us that before they leave they were going to behead all the security people.” She believes Roj’s location, in a Kurdish-majority area, helped prevent a similar breach: al-Hol is surrounded by Arab villages that aided escapes, she says.
Roj is administered by Kurdish-led authorities who have governed the area since breaking away from Syrian regime control more than a decade ago; they now face pressure to reintegrate under Syria’s Arab-led federal government. The camp’s administrators say they have allowed a few exceptional departures on humanitarian grounds when nationals presented travel documents. In February, a group of 11 Australian women and 18 children who had temporary passports were permitted by camp authorities to leave but were turned back at a Syrian government checkpoint and returned to Roj. “It was an exceptional case because the family members approached us and said they had discussed with the Australian government and they managed to get temporary passports for their family members,” said Mila Ibrahim, co-chair of the camp administration. “This is why, based on humanitarian reasons, we said since they have the passports it’s fine to take them.” Australia’s government later called the families a potential security risk and said it would not help them return.
About 60% of Roj’s roughly 2,300 residents are children, according to Save the Children, one of the few aid groups still operating there. The rows of plastic tents stand on bare earth; the camp is almost entirely dependent on outside assistance. Aid flows have been disrupted after cuts by U.S. Agency for International Development last year and again by fighting between Syrian and Kurdish forces in February.
NPR was allowed only two hours inside Roj and could not visit the section where guards say the more radicalized women and children are held. Many women at the camp say they were trafficked or lured to Syria under false pretenses; others embraced ISIS ideology and passed it to their children. Some older teenage boys have been moved out as they age — with inadequate de-radicalization programs in the region, some have been placed in prisons with adult ISIS suspects.
For detainees from dozens of countries, repatriation has been slow. From populations that once numbered in the tens of thousands, only a handful of states have taken back large numbers: Russia, Kazakhstan and some other eastern European countries have repatriated many of their nationals. France has taken back a few hundred. The United States recorded relatively few citizens who joined ISIS and has repatriated only a small number. Kurdish authorities have repeatedly urged other governments to take responsibility. “We did your duty, we managed to bring them to this stage, and now it’s their duty for all the countries to bring back their citizens,” Afrin said.
Inside the tents, life goes on in improvised ways. During Ramadan many women rest in the heat while children — home-schooled by their mothers in the absence of internet and books — play and draw. One little girl ran out clutching a painting of a brightly colored flower with “Hello friends” written on the back. Mothers talk about keeping their children away from neighbors who still hold extremist views. “It’s a constant battle of keeping him close with me and allowing him to just be a kid. It’s really difficult,” Muthana says of her son Adam.
Camp staff and Kurdish officials say the detainees represent a complicated mix: families from nearly 60 countries, some culpable and radicalized, others victims of trafficking or deception. The Kurdish-led administration says it lacks an internationally recognized justice system to properly try or rehabilitate those accused of fighting with ISIS, and that other governments should take back their nationals and handle prosecutions.
For children and the vulnerable in Roj, the key concerns are basic needs and long-term futures — shelter, food, education and protection from radicalization or re-recruitment. With continued instability around northeastern Syria and limited international engagement, many families remain detained in camps like Roj while fighters who once held territory in Iraq and Syria are reported to be on the move once more.