The kebab stall stood in the shadow of a building whose three upper floors had been sheared in half, leaving behind concrete slabs that seemed to hang in mid-air. Under a tarpaulin, its edges weighted with cinder blocks, stood a thin man with a thick white beard. Smiling, he stoked the fire in a narrow grill. Walking back and forth to a table set atop a wheelbarrow, he tenderly inspected a dish laid out with tomatoes, greens and a few skewers of meat. A torn mat covered the floor, while a plastic ice box and a few more cinder blocks provided seating for the customers who were yet to appear.
The streets were largely deserted here in Amiriya, a dilapidated suburb of Aleppo that once formed the frontline between the rebel-held enclave and government-controlled areas. But there were a few signs of life: children hopping on and off a rusty motorcycle, a woman selling cigarettes and water from a shack, a young man digging through the rubble with his hands, pulling out pieces of limestone and stacking them in a neat pile to use later in rebuilding his own house. “They are much better than the new ones,” he told me.
