February 29th 2016
Resilient People
“Judgment Day is for those who fear
God, and those who fear God would never do what we see is being done today.”
Words of wisdom from my grandfather on the world today.
Sometimes hours go by before any of us
realize the electricity is back. Syrians have had a long history of being very
resilient people who make due with what they are given. You take away their
electricity, they learn to accommodate and adjust with the sunlight hours. Some
have even found the ability to develop small batteries to operate their
significant appliances. Take away their bread, and they go and scrape up
whatever ingredients they can afford to bake it from scratch at home. Syrians
are craftsmen since the dawn of time and never take for granted the greatest
tools on the planet—their two hands.
This is most probably why they have
faced one of the greatest tragedies in human history. Syria was a strong self-made
country of self-sufficiency. My childhood memories consist of cracked streets
contrasting with modern malls that had no Starbucks, no McDonald’s and no
Chili’s—all franchises that reside proudly in every other Arab country I have
visited. When one sets foot in the country whose capital is the oldest
inhabited civilization in the world (let that sink in for a moment and envision
the weighty history in its walls), one can only expect handmade authenticity.
Today we walked ten minutes from our
house to a nearby vintage marketplace known as the Tkiyyeh Sleimaniyyeh. For as
long as I can remember, this has always been my most favorite place to visit
because of its antiquated perfection. It was the indulgence in my lifelong dream
to become an archaeologist; a dream that had been unfortunately squashed in its
youth by a “religious” studies teacher who told me it was a ridiculous and
useless field of study.
Now, as I learn more and more with
every exhibition I host in A Country
Called Syria, I kick my poor ten-year-old self for letting such a bitter
spirit smear what has been my calling. Being a jack-of-all-trades however, I’ve
learned to find passion in everything I pursue and God looped me back into
archeology and history so wonderfully.
The Tkiyyeh was as beautiful as ever
and yet drastically different. While a majority of the antique shops remained
in existence, a brand new section of miniature shops had recently been opened,
by a company geared at showcasing the brilliant craftsmanship of Syria. It was
breathtaking to walk into shop after shop of places that had thousand-year-old
looms still in use right before you to make towels and wall hangings. Another
shop sold homemade jams and a variety of fruit molasses. One shop sold handmade
crochet pieces and another sold the colorful silky fabrics known as Damask. I
ended up in tears for too many reasons to list, but here are a few.
Syria is a treasure in and of itself.
Its history and its soil and its landmarks, all make up the phenomenal gold
that it is. We have stories of so many different civilizations and eras,
villages and journeys. We have spectacular trades and talents that are still
alive today. From glassblowing, to copper and brass making, to woodworking,
Syria established it all to create its one of a kind empire and it kills me to
see it being demolished piece by piece. I mean just imagine the loss of this
wealthy element of life being destroyed?
A very painful dark depression was
settling upon my skin as I inspected each artifact and creation with mesmerized
passion. How can the world stand by and let this incredible country disappear?
How can anyone dare demolish such beauty and history? This is life and it is
slowly but surely being erased and for what? What will the future generations
have left of Syria? Landmarks have been bombed and crushed. People, with valuable
knowledge, are being killed. Blood is flowing faster than our drying rivers.
I walked in to quite a few fabric shops
at the marketplace, most who were run by older men. They each took the time to
diligently explain to me the large ceiling to floor loom beside them and how it
crafts the fabric I’m seeing displayed in the shop. They told me the history of
the looms and the trade of creating these pieces. How many of the people in my
generation have taken it upon themselves to uphold these traditions and learn
these trades so that they do not die with those my grandparents’ age?
