Lebanese-Syrian BorderM
ajor Ariya Zana found it difficult to walk at her usual brisk pace in the uncomfortable, unfamiliar long dress and black hijab. Her sandals kept picking up painful little stone passengers as she poked along amidst a straggling line of older men, women and children heading west. The border was behind her—unmarked and unsecured in the mountain pass where she crossed with the pack of refugees—but she faced a full day of walking toward the little Lebanese town of El Qaa. When she got close, Zana planned to slip away from the crowd and find a bus or a car she could hire with the sizeable chunk of al-Ashiri’s cash stuffed in her underwear. Until then, the important thing was to avoid attracting attention from patrols or checkpoints along the route. Uncomfortable and cons
