Inside the ISIS camp holding 35,000 prisoners that's on brink of violent jihadi revolt

A huge camp bigger than most English towns has been home to tens of thousands of former ISIS followers kept under lock and key since the fall of the death cult more than six years ago. The Daily Express was given exclusive access inside al-Hol, in northeast Syria, where jihadis have been languishing since Islamic State was defeated militarily by US, British and coalition forces in 2019.

But despite being a similar size to Skegness or Great Yarmouth, this is no holiday camp for the 35,000 ISIS inmates who come from Syria, Iraq and more than 40 other foreign countries. Men, women and children live out their lives in UN-style refugee tents behind a fence guarded by Western-backed Kurdish majority authorities, who have protected the camps since fighting alongside the West in the war against ISIS.

Separated from the main part of al-Hol is a high-security wing reserved for some 6,000 female foreign-born former ISIS brides and their children. The women in this section of the camp are still highly radicalised and rioted against guards in the past few weeks, they also attacked and burned down schools and education centres set up by the NGOs Save the Children and the Norwegian Refugee Council.

A blonde Russian woman from the foreign section was also badly beaten this month for removing her hijab. Camp authorities tried to move the woman to a different camp, but after she was treated at the hospital she returned to the foreign section of al-Hol where it is deemed too dangerous for guards to enter. It is not known if the woman is still alive, and the body of another female who fell out of favour in this deadly part of the facility was found buried in a shallow grave under rocks earlier this year.

Just like the guards, we are not allowed to enter the foreign part of the camp as the safety risks are too high. Instead, we drive in a 4x4 around the perimeter fence past rows and rows of white tents, each accompanied by a distinctive red water butt. It's around midday and the only sign of life is a few young children playing near the fence or collecting rocks.

As we get out of our vehicle to take a look at the charred out remains of the NGO buildings we hear the ping of stones against the fence as some of the youngsters try to throw rocks our way.

"They burned everything a month ago", the driver of our vehicle tells us, "we opened a lot of places here, to help them, to teach them a living, but they destroyed it all. They even broke the lights we installed for them to keep it dark. They don't want anything."

Our security team are nervous and warn us not to get too close to the fence. Chillingly as we drive away we can see several children, who cannot be much more than seven or eight years old, make the Islamic symbol adopted by ISIS of pointing their index finger towards the sky to signal the supremacy of God.

Back in the larger section of al-Hol we are allowed to visit the bustling souk, or market, where the Kurdish camp authorities allow Syrian and Iraqi former ISIS members to run stalls selling everything from clothes and fruit and vegetables to mobile phone accessories and cooking equipment.

Colourful women's undergarments and leggings were also on sale, despite all the woman here, and many young girls, wearing full-length black niqabs or burqas, covering their entire bodies and face except for their eyes. The style of dress is common in some regions of the Middle East, but the uniform was mandatory under ISIS with those flouting the dress code facing severe punishment or death.

As we walk down the main dusty track inside the market it's clear not many residents want to admit the reason they now live inside the world's biggest former jihadi town. When we approach one woman at a stall she initially says she is willing to talk, but at the first mention of ISIS she cancels our interview.

Another man running a watermelon stall is more willing to tell his story, but he too denies he was ever in Islamic State. "I am from Aleppo (in Syria), I have been here seven years", he said. The man's explanation for being in al-Hol is somewhat hard to believe as he claims "I was living in the countryside and life was hard so I thought I would move to this camp but then they closed the camp and I could not get out."

Our translator explains most people detained here will deny having ever been part of ISIS, but as most were brought here in 2019 from the areas where the Islamic State was defeated it seems likely they are not telling the whole truth.

An animated gentleman claimed he was not part of Islamic State because he smoked cigarettes, a habit banned under the ISIS regime. However, this man too came to camp from an area controlled by the terrorists.

Perhaps the most heartbreaking aspect of life in the ISIS city is the number of children living here. Many have been born in the camp or arrived when they were very young and we saw babies being carried by several women. A 15-year-old told us he has lived in al-Hol for eight years. "Life here is really bad, I want to get out of here", he said.

At this point our armed escort and the translator begin to become uncomfortable as we are increasingly surrounded by a large group of men. The translator, who is wearing Western-style dress, reveals she is being called derogatory names in a sexual context by the several of the women wearing burqas.

We head back to the safety of the camp administration offices and leave the population of the ISIS city to another night hopefully rueing the day they decided to join an Islamic extremist death cult.