Outside the Al-Mujtahid Hospital in Damascus, families study the gruesome papers stuck to the walls.
The pictures show the bodies of prison victims, damaged by years of torture. Everyone in the crowd is looking for someone. Most leave without an answer.
A young woman with black hair tied in a ponytail walks away from the wall, shouting:
"You knew about this. You always knew (...) You didn't do anything about it."
Those present hear. Then a man says: "God will have his justice after death."
"What God?" she replies, rushing off. "I don't believe in God."
Approximately 100.000 people have disappeared from Syria's now-defunct prison system, according to the Syrian Network for Human Rights. The local population believes that the number is higher. VOA was told that the most common cause of arrests under the former regime of Bashar al-Assad was actual criticism of the regime - or what someone perceived to be criticism.
On the streets of Damascus, every person VOA spoke to is missing someone. And as more and more mass graves are discovered, the hope that more living will be found fades.
In a crowded bakery, where families wait in line for about an hour for bread, in front of a mosque where young people celebrate their newfound freedom, and in the streets near the hospital, where men and women weep openly, a Voice of America reporter asked the same question: "Is anyone here Does he NOT know someone who has gone missing?"
"Every family in Damascus is missing someone," says the man outside the bakery. At the mosque, one woman, Hiba Al Sadfi, says she is one of the few who has not lost anyone. But her husband has been in prison for three years and her nephew is still missing.
"I sent food and medicine to Ghouta," says her husband Anas Al Nesmeh (45) in the courtyard of the famous Umayyad Mosque. Ghouta is a suburb of Damascus that has supported the rebellion against the Syrian government since it began in 2011. In 2013, the regime dropped chemical weapons on settlements there, killing more than 1.400 people.
"They arrested the driver, and he told them that I was sending," explains Nesmeh.
He then spent three years in prison where prisoners died from lack of food and medicine, and torture was a common part of life. Sadfi, his wife, shows the scars that are still visible on his wrists, where the policemen put out their cigarettes.
"He still has lines on his back from the whipping," she adds.
Funeral
Around the corner from the hospital, a funeral is underway for Mazen Al Hamada, a man who died in prison after years of torture. Hamada was first allegedly arrested for smuggling baby food into rebel areas. After his release, he moved to Europe where he became an international advocate for the rights of Syrian torture victims.
"The human brain can't imagine that," he said in the video, which has been widely circulated online, in which he describes gruesome beatings and sexual abuse. "Many people died under torture."
A week ago, Hamada's body was found in a hospital, among other victims of the infamous Sednaya prison.
Not far from the funeral, a young man hugs his friend while crying. He says he didn't know Hamada, but his heart is too broken to say more than that. "I can't take this pain anymore," he says. “I'm so sorry, but I can't talk.”
VOA followed the funeral procession as growing crowds carried the casket through the streets, draped in what less than two weeks ago had been a rebel flag. It is now the flag of Syria.
Soon it was as much a protest as a funeral procession, with the crowd chanting familiar slogans such as "The people of Syria are one!", but also less common ones such as: "The people demand the execution of Bashar!"
Photographs of Assad, the former president who fled Syria as rebels took control of the country, were torn from buildings or scratched. A defaced poster with Assad's face is placed on the ground at the entrance to an ancient market in Damascus, so shoppers can step on it, or walk over it like it's nothing.
Another torn poster with Assad's face hangs at the Ministry of Justice, now guarded by a bearded soldier wearing a blue windbreaker under his camouflage uniform.
A Voice of America reporter asked him if he thinks that people who seek justice will get it.
"Sheikh Abu Muhammad will ensure justice, God willing," he says, referring to Abu Muhammad Al Golani, who now goes by his given name Ahmed Al Shara. He is the leader of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), the rebel group that led the militias as they seized power in Syria.
In less than two weeks, the rebels have conquered territories held by the Assad family dictators for half a century. One could read in the news that HTS had not only a righteous goal, but also excellent timing. Russia and Iran were embroiled in other wars while Syrian rebels conquered the country. However, the Voice of America reporter's impression is that few people believe that this is the whole story.
As VOA spoke to the guard, the funeral/protest continued. The shopkeeper at that place did not know where they had gone, so the journalists took a taxi to the cemetery, where the locals told them that the funeral was quick and that the people then dispersed.
The Voice of America crew asked the driver to take them to the hospital. While passing through the next square, the driver said that there was a prison under the road.
"How do you know?"
"They took me there when I was nine," he says. Then one of his friends stole something, but he doesn't remember the details. The prison was overcrowded, and he was beaten with a cable before his mother pulled him out.
"They kill women and children," he says. "Even if you mention Bashar's name unintentionally, you can be arrested."
Celebration
On the way to the hotel, Umayyad square is full of joyful people. Young men get out of the car, wave the new Syrian flag and blow their horns. Children pose on a tank or have their photo taken with an AK-47 rifle. Banners and fireworks are being prepared for the night festivities.
The Voice of America crew encountered the remains of a similar party in Aleppo's main square the next day, but the crowd had dispersed. Many businesses have reopened, but the currency fluctuates so quickly in Aleppo that shopkeepers say they don't know how much to charge.
In the market outside Aleppo Citadel, a thousand-year-old castle, young men sell cigarettes and coffee, while camel owners encourage people to buy short rides. "Don't be afraid of the camel!" one man shouts as he leads his roped camel through the crowd.
There is also Imad al Sava (20), who returned from Iraq only last week, and now sells coffee and cigarettes. After three years abroad as a refugee, he returned home the day after the rebels captured Aleppo.
Sava fled Syria when he was 17, like many other teenagers, to avoid being forced to join the army or thrown in prison. Hard work, deep poverty and no opportunities for a better future awaited him in Iraq.
"It was as if I had no soul," he says. "And now she's back."
Bonus video:
