Mohammed A. Salih reports from inside the Syrian town of Kobane on what life is like for some of the few residents who have stayed behind despite a months-long siege by Islamic State (IS) group militants, also known as ISIS or ISIL.

Kobane — When Mahmud Salih's cousin told him about the woman next door, he immediately launched into action. And after he met Khadija Yusef in person he decided that she was the one. The feeling was mutual, and soon the two tied the knot.

The love between Salih, a Kurd, and Yusef, an Arab, has endured the test of time. It has even withstood a brutal invasion by the jihadists of the Islamic State group on this besieged town in northern Syria.

When IS group forces arrived at the gates of Kobane in September, the couple headed for the Turkish border just a kilometre away – like many others of the Kobane area's nearly 400,000 residents. The jihadists' reputation for brutality preceded them and no one was even remotely interested in trying to coexist with them.

"Most Kobane residents left because they behead people and assault women," said Salih, 50, of the townspeople's fear of the jihadist group. "We have never seen such things before and we cannot accept it."

After waiting at the border for four days to be allowed into Turkey, Salih – whose legs have been disabled since birth – decided it was "more honourable" to return to his home in Kobane.

But he knew it would be unfair to have his wife return as well.

"I told her to go to Turkey and be safe there," said Salih. "But she said, 'I will stay with you. If you die, I will die with you'."

Now the couple lives inside a rundown house on a western Kobane street that – except for the presence of a few cheerful male and female fighters a few yards away – is almost entirely deserted these days.

Married already for 15 years, the relationship between the couple is as strong as ever. They make do with the few resources that are still available to them.

"We have lived here together since we got married … It's better to be in our own home, no matter what happens," says Yusef, 40, speaking shyly.

The couple's commitment to each other also exposes the ethnic fault lines in this part of the country. The Kurdish minority in Syria has long been oppressed in the face of Arab nationalism and unity. With the emergence of rival armed groups after the Syrian uprising began in 2011, ethnic tensions have become even more pronounced.

But Yusef rejects these divisions. "I am like all the other people here," she says, in her usual mild tone. "There is no difference between Kurds and Arabs. We are all the same."

Once a quiet rural backwater town sitting next to a railway – which German and Ottoman powers built in the early 20th century to connect Baghdad to Berlin – Kobane these days is a highly perilous place. Mortar shells land every now and then, occasionally claiming victims. Three civilians, including a father and son, were killed on December 16 by an IS group mortar attack.

As of December 25, Kobane's Kurdish fighters – known as the People's Protection Units or the YPG – have resisted the Islamic State militant onslaught for well over 100 days.

But they would have likely lost the battle here if the US-led coalition had not intervened in time. Ever since coalition airstrikes began in late September – and with help from a unit of Iraqi Kurdish Peshmerga troops who arrived with heavy mortar and artillery guns – the YPG have been slowly, but steadily, rolling back the Islamic State jihadists.

And while most of Kobane's residents have fled, the remaining civilians like Salih and Yusef are quite defiant.

On an otherwise pleasant afternoon on December 16, the couple were drinking tea on the sidewalk in front of their home. A hefty man sporting a thick black moustache, Salih appeared exuberant as he poured one cup of tea after another.

His wife whisked inside to fetch cinnamon. The strong aroma of the tea plus the joyous atmosphere made the whole event seem surreal, a luxury despite the harsh circumstances of Kobane. Two friends soon joined to share some amiable time with the couple.

Being in Kobane, one can feel desperately stuck. Salih says they are not only besieged on three sides by the IS militants, but by Turkey to the north as well. Little aid makes it into the town and the people remaining here must cope with shortages of almost everything, especially fuel and medical assistance.

But as uncertain as things may seem here, Yusef says they are happy together in this volatile town. Their lives are quiet as they have no children, something that is unusual for married couples of their age in this part of the world. The two times that Yusef conceived, the babies were stillborn.

As the sun slowly sinks, the couple says the one thing they sorely miss are the noisy gatherings they used to have with the neighbours who have fled.

"We would like to see the neighbours return so we could all get together again," says Yusef.

For now, however, it is just going to be another night with the roaring sound of bombs.



— Mohammed A. Salih is a journalist from Iraqi Kurdistan and has reported on Kurdish and Middle East affairs for international and local media for almost a decade. (No relation to Mahmud Salih, who is profiled in this piece.)

He was in Kobane from December 14 to 16.