We drove the backbone of Syria, north from Damascus through Homs and Hama to Aleppo, and then south west, through the towns and villages of southern Idlib.

The scale of the devastation is almost impossible to comprehend. Yes, there is daily life and markets and bustling commercial life in the city centres.

But there are also ghost towns stretching on for mile after mile where frontlines were fought over and positions abandoned, tanks left to rot, minefields to maim.

The gutted carcasses of millions of homes, the signature of horrific firepower, Russian air strikes and Assad’s barrel bombs, flung at civilian life.

Eleven million people fled their homes during Syria’s 13-year civil war. This is the rubble and dust they left behind.

Kafr Nabl was an activist town in southern Idlib known, in the early years of the war, as the heart of the revolution.

Now there is not a soul about, but graffiti artists have been through since the fall of the regime and left a celebratory message: “The revolution is an idea. Kafr Nabl is free!”

On a hilltop nearby, Um Abdo and her husband Abu Abdo are busy pruning back olive trees next to what was an Iranian position, and before that their home.

“How are we going to be able to rebuild if we don’t have enough to eat,” says Um Abdo tearfully. “Look behind me, it’s all ruins. Where do we even start?”

She seems more upset about the destruction of her olive and fig trees than she is about her home. They are an elderly couple and they have been through hell.

Um Abdo lists thirty family members who were killed during the war, most of them, her two brothers included, by barrel bombs. Her husband spent three years in jail.

When he came out he found his village destroyed and his family living in displacement camps.

Now Assad is gone, they have decided to try life back home with their olive trees and their little grey puppy.

Their sons fight with HTS, and they are fans of its leader Ahmad al Sharaa. “He’s such a decent man with great manners,” Um Abdo says.

“A man of religion, a man with morals. Everything about him is moral. If he takes over, the entire country will be fine.”

A man we meet trying to fix his motorbike says: “Wherever he is there is security. Things are good.

“He doesn’t have an ego. He’s not strict. He doesn’t, for example, go around saying ‘execute this guy, execute that guy’. There’s none of that.

“He doesn’t go around saying you’re not allowed to smoke, we all smoke, it’s fine!”

It’s a message we hear repeatedly, that al Sharaa has brought stability to Idlib. That even those living in the huge displacement camps around Idlib feel safe, thanks to his Salvation Government.

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One of his signature achievements in Idlib was to stop the fighting between warring factions and bring them under one authority. His challenge now is to do the same across the whole of Syria.

He remains a wanted terrorist with a $10,000 bounty on his head. He was a jihadi, setting up Al Qaeda’s network in Syria – but he says he’s changed.

Idlib is run according to Sharia law but he seems to be suggesting that won’t be the case across the country. Suffice to say, it depends on what he does, not what he says.

What is painfully clear is that he takes on an utterly broken nation. As we’re driving towards Idlib, a van loaded down with family possessions makes its way towards us through the bombed-out streets.

We ask the mother inside what her plans are. She wants to go back to her home, even though it’s destroyed. She has a tent with her for her family, a little boy and a girl.

Her husband was arrested nine years ago and taken to Sednaya prison. She found out last week that he was dead.

“I went blind from all the crying”, she says. “They killed him after torturing him and starving him. Do you know those iron presses that they used?

“My son was only one year old when they took him away. He doesn’t know anything about his father.”

Her son tries to soothe her. “Softly, softly,” he whispers as she sobs.

He is only ten. He shouldn’t have to do this.

The compound in front of the blue and white low-rise building is buzzing with rushed activity.

On one side there are men stacking boxes of water bottles. On another, women sitting on chairs are picking through bundles of clothing on the ground before folding and organising them into piles of men’s, women’s and children’s sizes.

Instructions are being shouted.

Through the doors of the house, in the lounge at the front, there’s more urgency. Here, some women are sorting out baby food, nappies and sanitary products.

This is the local community response to a call for emergency aid after Mayotte was devastated by Cyclone Chido on Sunday.

The aid is being collected here in a neighbourhood in Reunion’s capital Saint-Denis, an island east of Madagascar.

This is where Somo is helping. She’s wearing a black hijab and her face is framed by her black-rimmed spectacles.

Somo came to Reunion to study law two years ago. Her mum Echat, dad Saindu and sister Kaounaini live on Mayotte.

Somo has had no contact with any of them since the deadly storm tore through the island on Sunday.

“I’m really worried,” she tells me. She’s very softly spoken and is smiling nervously. But it’s easy to see Somo’s desperation. “I’m just dying waiting for news,” she adds.

Somo knows her mother and father are alive because word has reached her from other community members who reported seeing them after the deadly storm.

But there is no news about her sister and her six children aged between two and 16 years old. They are all still missing.

Somo has been frantically calling their numbers non-stop since Sunday, but nobody has answered.

The family’s home has been completely destroyed. Somo is desperate to send money to them but there’s no way of doing so.

She’s especially worried about her father because he’s alone.

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“I don’t know if he has any food or water or anything,” she says.

As I am about to leave, Somo tries to call them again. She waits, looking at the phone screen in hope and in desperation. But there’s still no answer.

A husband described as one of France’s worst sex offenders is expected to be sentenced tomorrow – as the verdicts for all 51 defendants come back in the Gisele Pelicot mass rape trial.

Dominique Pelicot, 72, has admitted drugging and raping his then-wife Ms Pelicot, 72, for almost a decade.

During the four-month trial, he explained how he invited strangers to allegedly rape her as well.

“I am a rapist,” he said while giving evidence, claiming all the other defendants were also aware it was rape.

The court heard Dominique Pelicot began sedating his wife with anti-anxiety medication and raping her in 2011 when they lived in Paris.

However, his crimes escalated when they moved to the pretty Provencal village of Mazan.

It was here that he said he began recruiting men to rape his wife using a chat room called “without her knowing”.

He told the men he invited to their home not to park by the house to avoid detection.

They were also told not to wear fragrance or smoke to avoid leaving any trace that Ms Pelicot may smell.

He then filmed the attacks.

In 2020, he was caught by chance when a security guard spotted him trying to film up women’s skirts in a local shopping centre.

A complaint was filed and when the police investigated, they found 20,000 indecent images including footage of men having sex with Ms Pelicot while she was sedated.

“He’s extremely dangerous because he’s intelligent and he’s calculated,” said Christophe Huguenin-Virchaux, a lawyer for one of the defendants.

“Mazan is possibly just a drop in the ocean of what Dominique Pelicot has done.”

Fifty other men have also been on trial accused of rape or sexual assault.

The majority deny the charges saying they were not aware that Ms Pelicot had not consented.

Some claim Dominique Pelicot had told them that they were taking part in the couple’s sex game.

Among those facing one of the most severe sentences is 30-year-old Charly A.

He is accused of raping Ms Pelicot six times including on her birthday.

Mr Huguenin-Virchaux, his defence lawyer, has argued Charly thought Ms Pelicot knew what was happening.

“From the beginning, he was told this was a scenario for swingers. A couple with a fantasy. He was light years away from realising he was participating in rape,” the defence lawyer added.

Unconscious and powerless when she was attacked, Ms Pelicot consciously waived her right to anonymity so the evidence could be heard in public.

Her bravery has inspired millions of people across the country and beyond to join protests against sexual violence.

Read more:
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Thousands protest against sexual violence in France
Ms Pelicot says her husband ‘destroyed’ and betrayed her

Judges are expected to hand down all the verdicts and sentences on Thursday.

Dominique Pelicot faces the rest of his life in jail.

Prosecutors have asked for sentences totalling more than 600 years in jail for all 51 defendants.

Ms Pelicot says she is a destroyed woman.

The 72-year-old has said she is seeing a psychologist and takes long walks as she tries to rebuild what others stole from her.

She does not know if she will ever recover.

And there’s no doubt, the horror of what happened to her will haunt France long after the verdicts are delivered.