Dia Hadid

Over bracing Turkish coffee, she tells us the first time an agent came knocking with a baby boy to hand over, she didn't believe it. She tells me, I even asked for the man's ID. I said, how do I know you haven't kidnapped these children? Al-Baba tells me, this man looks at her and says, you're asking me for my ID? Do you understand who I am? And Al-Baba says, it began to sink in.

Over bracing Turkish coffee, she tells us the first time an agent came knocking with a baby boy to hand over, she didn't believe it. She tells me, I even asked for the man's ID. I said, how do I know you haven't kidnapped these children? Al-Baba tells me, this man looks at her and says, you're asking me for my ID? Do you understand who I am? And Al-Baba says, it began to sink in.

Over bracing Turkish coffee, she tells us the first time an agent came knocking with a baby boy to hand over, she didn't believe it. She tells me, I even asked for the man's ID. I said, how do I know you haven't kidnapped these children? Al-Baba tells me, this man looks at her and says, you're asking me for my ID? Do you understand who I am? And Al-Baba says, it began to sink in.

Saying no to the Air Force Intelligence Directorate would be a death sentence. She says, they would have put us through their human mincer. They would have made us hamburgers or kebabs. Albaba says when the children arrived, they were sick, thin, dirty, infested with head lice, like they'd just come out of prison.

Saying no to the Air Force Intelligence Directorate would be a death sentence. She says, they would have put us through their human mincer. They would have made us hamburgers or kebabs. Albaba says when the children arrived, they were sick, thin, dirty, infested with head lice, like they'd just come out of prison.

Saying no to the Air Force Intelligence Directorate would be a death sentence. She says, they would have put us through their human mincer. They would have made us hamburgers or kebabs. Albaba says when the children arrived, they were sick, thin, dirty, infested with head lice, like they'd just come out of prison.

Al-Baba says in her orphanage for the first week, they isolated the kids with a caregiver. They called them housemothers, and the housemother would offer the kid new clothes, a pink pyjama or a blue one. Do you want a toy? What do you want to eat today? Fries? She says they wanted the kids to see they were cared for.

Al-Baba says in her orphanage for the first week, they isolated the kids with a caregiver. They called them housemothers, and the housemother would offer the kid new clothes, a pink pyjama or a blue one. Do you want a toy? What do you want to eat today? Fries? She says they wanted the kids to see they were cared for.

Al-Baba says in her orphanage for the first week, they isolated the kids with a caregiver. They called them housemothers, and the housemother would offer the kid new clothes, a pink pyjama or a blue one. Do you want a toy? What do you want to eat today? Fries? She says they wanted the kids to see they were cared for.

But Al-Baba says she was not at peace with the arrangement and there were limits to what she could do. She says she had to turn away relatives who came to her orphanage looking for their missing children. She had to obey. We end our interview with Al-Baba. She tells me she hopes she was worthy of the burden that God made her carry.

But Al-Baba says she was not at peace with the arrangement and there were limits to what she could do. She says she had to turn away relatives who came to her orphanage looking for their missing children. She had to obey. We end our interview with Al-Baba. She tells me she hopes she was worthy of the burden that God made her carry.

But Al-Baba says she was not at peace with the arrangement and there were limits to what she could do. She says she had to turn away relatives who came to her orphanage looking for their missing children. She had to obey. We end our interview with Al-Baba. She tells me she hopes she was worthy of the burden that God made her carry.

It's at this moment I look out the window and see a man lingering outside. He's clutching his mobile phone and looks nervous. I ask Al-Baba, does he work here? Al-Baba peers out the window. No. And she invites him into the office. He walks in and tells Al-Baba that his children went missing in 2013 with his wife.

It's at this moment I look out the window and see a man lingering outside. He's clutching his mobile phone and looks nervous. I ask Al-Baba, does he work here? Al-Baba peers out the window. No. And she invites him into the office. He walks in and tells Al-Baba that his children went missing in 2013 with his wife.

It's at this moment I look out the window and see a man lingering outside. He's clutching his mobile phone and looks nervous. I ask Al-Baba, does he work here? Al-Baba peers out the window. No. And she invites him into the office. He walks in and tells Al-Baba that his children went missing in 2013 with his wife.

She'd been detained by forces loyal to Syria's former ruler Bashar al-Assad as she was trying to get to hospital because she was nine months pregnant. He says for a long time he believed his wife and kids had been killed to punish him because he'd refused to provide information about rebels operating in his area. He pulls out his phone to show her pictures of his kids. There's Mohamed, 7.

She'd been detained by forces loyal to Syria's former ruler Bashar al-Assad as she was trying to get to hospital because she was nine months pregnant. He says for a long time he believed his wife and kids had been killed to punish him because he'd refused to provide information about rebels operating in his area. He pulls out his phone to show her pictures of his kids. There's Mohamed, 7.

She'd been detained by forces loyal to Syria's former ruler Bashar al-Assad as she was trying to get to hospital because she was nine months pregnant. He says for a long time he believed his wife and kids had been killed to punish him because he'd refused to provide information about rebels operating in his area. He pulls out his phone to show her pictures of his kids. There's Mohamed, 7.

And in December, 11 years after they disappeared, he saw the social media buzz about children hidden in orphanages. And he began hoping just maybe his children were alive. Maybe they'd been hidden in an orphanage. Maybe this orphanage. Al-Baba says she's sure his children weren't placed here, but just in case, she asks for his wife's name.

And in December, 11 years after they disappeared, he saw the social media buzz about children hidden in orphanages. And he began hoping just maybe his children were alive. Maybe they'd been hidden in an orphanage. Maybe this orphanage. Al-Baba says she's sure his children weren't placed here, but just in case, she asks for his wife's name.