The uneasy normal of 'Free Syria'

(Monitor correspondent Tom Peter spent a week and a half making daily trips into rebel-held territory in northern Syria to report on Syrian Air Force bombings of bread lines and demonstrations; makeshift refugee camps along the Turkish border; the rebels' plea for a safe zone; rebel efforts at self-governance; the Free Syrian Army's weapon shortages and scores of recent defectors; and the deep divides growing within Syrian society, which have put even brothers on opposing sides.)

Crossing the border into Syria without the government's consent once meant ducking under a lonely stretch of border fence and navigating mine fields.

That's still the case in most places. But at one crossing on the northern border with Turkey, near the town of Kilis, that's all changed. A sign now hangs over the entrance to the Syrian side welcoming visitors to "Free Syria." Border workers register and stamp everyone's passport with their own stamp.

Since fighting erupted in the northern city of Aleppo in late July, the opposition's Free Syrian Army (FSA) has pushed government troops out of the territory between Aleppo and the Turkish border, gaining control over a corridor roughly three quarters the size of Rhode Island. The opposition has now established fledgling local governments that do everything from subsidizing bread to running criminal courts and prisons.

In many parts of this Free Syria, life almost seems normal. Less than a 10-minute drive from some of the hardest fighting in Aleppo, markets are open – albeit with a majority of shops indefinitely shuttered – and on side streets men sit outside in plastic chairs drinking tea and watching their children play.

But these signs of stability may be more of a mask than the new face of Syria. The FSA has ousted government forces from the area, but jets and artillery still attack daily, making Free Syria feel anything but liberated and secure.

Despite the pleas of opposition forces, the international community has shown no willingness to impose a no-fly zone or provide the FSA with antiaircraft weapons that would allow them to combat government airplanes themselves. President Bashar al-Assad's Air Force rules the skies, bombing with impunity and keeping residents in the grips of fear and paranoia.

In a small village near Al-Bab, one of the main cities in the so-called Free Syria, Mohammad Mustafa Awis says the heavy and unpredictable bombing drove his brother to the breaking point.

"He was afraid of the airplanes. When he heard any loud sound he thought it was the jets coming to bomb us. So one night he left the house, and we never saw him again," he says. "His friends knew he would leave, but he didn't tell us [his family] because he was afraid we would try to stop him."

It's been two weeks since Mr. Awis saw his brother, and no one knows where he went or whether he's still alive. His brother has no phone, and there is no Internet connection in their area, so the only option is to comb the surrounding villages.

Awis has already visited all the surrounding villages and checked with local FSA units. With all other options exhausted, he plans to send his brother's photo to Syrian refugee camps in Turkey in hopes that someone will spot him and report back.

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