Michel Moutot /AFP/Getty Images
Syrian refugees gather amid olive trees in an area controlled by the rebel Free Syrian Army, in northern Syria near the Turkish border, on Sept. 25. The area has become a way station for Syrian refugees pushed out of neighboring Turkey.
Syrian refugees gather amid olive trees in an area controlled by the rebel Free Syrian Army, in northern Syria near the Turkish border, on Sept. 25. The area has become a way station for Syrian refugees pushed out of neighboring Turkey. Michel Moutot /AFP/Getty Images
Long before the Syrian uprising, Antakya, Turkey, was a storied place. Once known as Antioch, the city was home to Greeks, some of the earliest Christians, Jews and Armenians. It once was a major stop on the Silk Road.
Most recently, the Turkish city became a hub for the Syrian rebellion. For many months, Turkish authorities tolerated Antakya's status, and even encouraged it. Turkey built refugee camps for tens of thousands of Syrians, and even one for officers who defected from the Syrian army to join the rebel cause.
That support, however, is starting to fade.
Michel Moutot /AFP/Getty Images
Syrian refugees live under makeshift tents in the grounds of a school in Atme, a village controlled by the Free Syrian Army.
Syrian refugees live under makeshift tents in the grounds of a school in Atme, a village controlled by the Free Syrian Army. Michel Moutot /AFP/Getty Images
At a recent protest, Turkish citizens living in Antakya called for the rebels to be expelled. At the same time, Turkish authorities began knocking on doors of Syrians who rent apartments in Antakya, telling them they have only a few days to get out of town.
The refugee camps have also stopped taking new arrivals, meaning desperate Syrians trying to get into Turkey are stuck in limbo.
Refugees In Waiting
Just across the border into Syria from Turkey, groups of families have taken up shelter in an olive grove. Underneath rows of olive trees, families have built their own tents out of carpets; they're just living out under the sun, and on the dusty, rocky ground.
Em Abdo is one of 3,000 people living there. She says she left her nearby town when the shelling seemed like it would never stop. For now, she says she feels safer under the trees.
In the grove, the branches provide shade and blankets make walls. Many of the children have sores on their faces and are covered in flies. Abdo says she has no idea when the family might be able to leave.
The olive trees Em Abdo lives among sit along the Turkish-Syrian border. Drive a few miles into Syria, and you get to the town of Atme.
Abu Ali has it better than the refugees. He is a gunrunner and fixer for Syrian rebel commanders. In other words, he has cash. He says Turkish authorities knocked on his door in Antakya one day and told him to leave. So he decided to come back into Syria, rent a house here in Atme, and bring his wives and children.
Just a few months ago, Atme was a sleepy town and a way station for people traveling in and out of Syria. Now, it's the place to be. People in Atme say the town has grown from 5,000 to 40,000 people. Where there once was a single falafel stand there is now a thriving market.
The leaders of the rebel fighters, who go by the name the Free Syrian Army, posted a video recently announcing they, too, were leaving Turkey, moving out of the officers' camp and coming back to Syria. That may or may not be true, but the message was symbolic: It's time to regroup on the inside.
Another change in Atme has been new training camps for rebel fighters and foreign men, clearly not Syrians, walking around dressed in fatigues, carrying guns.
Because it is far from any Syrian army base and surrounded on three sides by Turkey, Atme has been immune to the violence visited on just about every other place in Syria that's known to house rebels. People in Atme believe Turkey quietly protects the town from attacks by Syrian helicopters and jets — an unofficial no-fly zone.
Houses are being built by Syrians who can afford it, and public buildings overflow with Syrians who can't. Several of the town's schools host refugees, and they hope to turn the buildings into hospitals. Right now, the nearest hospital is about 10 miles away.
No Safe Zone
At the hospital, it's clear the unofficial safe zone doesn't reach this far. In the past few weeks, the facility has treated some 70 people — rebel fighters and civilians wounded after attacks from a nearby army base.
The head doctor says a Syrian army jet has just fired a rocket at a house not far from the hospital. Everyone rushes to the lobby, where medics wait for casualties.
The jet comes in low to strafe people gathered just outside the hospital. Heading down to the basement, doctors bring in a wounded man covered with blood. He was shot in the knees.
Days later, a Syrian helicopter bombs another town near Atme, very close to the Turkish border. Thirty people are killed.
Back in Atme, it's unclear whether this new safe zone inside Syria is a good idea — and how long it will remain safe — especially now that it's such a hub for refugees and rebels.
"We say it's God," says a doctor who also serves as a guide for journalists. "Only God knows how long it will last."
NPR's Deborah Amos contributed to this report.