DAMASCUS: At Basel al-Sati's souvenir shop in a central Damascus market, socks bearing caricatures that ridicule ousted Syrian leader Bashar al-Assad and his once feared family now sell like hot cakes.
"I want to bring joy to people who've been deprived of happiness for so many days and years," said Sati, 31, displaying pairs of white ankle-length socks.
"Everyone who comes from abroad wants to buy the socks -- some to keep as a souvenir, others to wear mockingly and take pictures," he told AFP.
"There are even some who buy them just to stomp on them," he said.
Stamping on someone's image is considered deeply insulting in the Arab world, so the socks allow wearers to trample the Assads underfoot as they walk.
Pictures of the Assad clan have gone from being ubiquitous symbols of repression to objects of derision and mockery since his December 8 ouster by Islamist-led forces after nearly 14 years of devastating civil war.
Some socks showing Assad in sunglasses read "We will trample them", while others depict him with heavily exaggerated features.
Others bear a caricature of Hafez al-Assad who ruled Syria before his son, depicted in his underwear and chest puffed out.
They bear the phrase "This is what the Assads look like" -- a play on the family's last name, which means lion.
Assad's once feared younger brother Maher labelled "the captagon king" also features. Western governments accused Maher and his entourage of turning Syria into a narco state, flooding the Middle East with the illegal stimulant.


Sati's shop, brimming with other gift items, is decorated with images from Syria's revolution.
An image of Assad is on the ground at the entrance so people can walk on it.
"It's another kind of celebration, for all the Syrians who couldn't celebrate in Ummayad Square after the fall of the regime," Sati said.
The Damascus landmark filled with huge crowds from across the country and hosted days of celebrations after Assad's ouster, with people raising the now official three-starred flag symbolising the revolution.
Afaf Sbano, 40, who returned after fleeing to Germany a decade ago, said she had come to buy "Assad socks", which sell for around a dollar a pair, for friends.
There is "no better" gift for those "who can't come to Syria to celebrate the fall of the regime", she told AFP.
"I bought more than 10 extra pairs for my friends after I shared a photo on Instagram," she said.
"We had never dared to even imagine making fun of him" before, she added.


Manufacturer Zeyad Zaawit, 29, said the idea of socks to mock the Assads came to him after the former ruler was deposed and fled to Russia.
Zaawit started with a small number and then ramped up production when he saw they were selling fast.
"People hate him," Zaawit said of Assad.
"I took revenge on him this way after he fled," he said, adding that the socks were so popular that some customers even paid in advance.
Zaawit said he produced around 1,000 pairs in the first week and has since tripled production, making more than 200,000 pairs in three months.
Images of the socks have been shared widely on social media and they have even been used in satirical television programmes.
Assad's own words have also been turned against him -- including a refusal to meet Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, a foe who is close to Syria's new authorities.
Erdogan made repeated overtures to Assad in the period before his overthrow.
In August 2023, Assad famously said: "Why should I meet Erdogan? To drink refreshments?"
The pronouncement, now the subject of jokes on social media, appears on posters in food and juice stalls, sometimes accompanied by mocking images of Assad.

JAMMU: In the skies above the bunkers where Indian and Pakistani soldiers trade gunfire, masters of an ancient sport beloved on both sides seek to snatch prized pigeons from the other.
Indian breeder Pyara Singh spends his days trying to lure Pakistani birds from across the Himalayan valley, and guard against rivals wooing his flock.
“We get pigeons from Pakistan — we catch them,” said 33-year-old Singh, watching as some of his feathered favorites twisted like jets overhead. “We also often lose our pigeons to them.”
An attack in Indian-administered Kashmir last month that New Delhi blames on Islamabad has sparked fears of renewed conflict between the nuclear-armed arch-rivals.
Pakistan insists it was not involved in the April 22 killings of 26 mainly Hindu men but Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi has vowed to respond.
Like every night since April 26, India’s army said Monday that its troops had exchanged gunfire with Pakistani soldiers overnight across the de facto frontier in contested Kashmir.


Pigeon fanciers across the divide can’t meet face-to-face, but share the same passion. Breeders say the top birds can be worth hundreds of dollars.
The skill of “kabutar-baazi” pigeon flying stretches back centuries, straddling a border created at the violent end of British imperial rule in 1947.
Singh, sitting with his 100-strong flock on the roof of his home in the village of Pangali, said it was “it is an old art.”
Keepers guide the flight of their flocks with whistles to provide a swirling spectacle.
Others race them, timing their flight home, or simply find peace in their graceful colorations and gentle coos.
But Indian keepers like Singh say their Pakistani counterparts rear “better and stronger” birds, explaining the buzz in catching their pigeons.
“They are a treasured possession,” said Aarav KHajjuria, from Sainth, another frontline Indian village.
He proudly showed his flock of 29 birds — three of which are from Pakistan.
“Our pigeons also fly there,” he said. “Two of my pigeons went.”
The teenager started breeding pigeons four years ago after watching another local fancier catch a bird.
“I was fascinated,” KHajjuria added. “I now spend time on the roof, both immediately before and after I return from school.”
But he is most proud of his Pakistani captives.
“I lured them after they’d strayed across,” he said, pointing to a nearby row of trees that mark the border.
Pakistani pigeons “are better because they’re bred better and fly longer durations in a competition,” KHajjuria said.
Keepers say capturing a pigeon is a skill, using water, grain and their own flock to lure the stray bird into the fold.
Once the bird lands, they immediately clip some feathers to stop them flying. While they grow back, the bird builds a bond with the new flock.


Fanciers fix leg rings with contact details to the animals.
“If we catch a bird that belongs to someone from the nearby villages, and we know them, we call them and hand it back,” Singh said, hand on his heart.
Birds from Pakistan are a different matter.
“Given the overall situation, and the risks involved, no one calls if the bird is from the other side,” he said.
“We don’t want any issues in the future, and allegations that as an Indian we were contacting Pakistanis.”
In fact, fanciers say that police are wary Pakistani pigeons might be carrying messages.
Indian police have in recent years “detained” several suspected of being enemy carrier pigeons, with some jailbirds accused of having Pakistani links, others Chinese.
“The Pakistani side often marks their pigeons with ink stamps, names, or rings — but beyond that, we haven’t seen anything suspicious yet,” Singh said.
“We inform the army if we come across such a pigeon, but so far, we haven’t caught any with a camera,” he joked.
Singh says he worries that the nightly gunfire will escalate.
“Ideally there shouldn’t be a war,” he said, but said the April 22 attack was “so wrong that it can’t be left unanswered.”
But he is confident nothing will stop his pigeons flying free.
“The border is not for the bird,” he said.
“No army or fence could stop them. How could you? Our pigeons go there, and theirs often cross into India.”