MY LOVE LETTER TO DAMASCUS

The following is a collection of thoughts I wanted to express into a personal letter after watching a beautiful short film titled In Damascus, and hope the interested reader will make some sense of my nostalgia, particularly with the news that has been unfolding the past several years one I have been witnessing from a distance.

Dear country where my father was born and which I feel so proud to be from,

When the violence first broke out, I never realized it would spiral to its current situation. At first I was shocked and like everyone else horrified not only with the images of war, but also the hypocrisy created by the politics interested in your demise because you are a beautiful, spiritual and sacred land.

I am ashamed to admit that growing up I was never too excited on visiting you. Beirut was always much more fun and exciting. You were hard to get used to at first, I didn’t like the chaos, noisy traffic, the old broken down taxis with faux fur lined interiors, the bleak architecture and outdoor neon lighting that made up most of your infrastructure. It took a couple of road trips and adventures though, where I truly discovered a raw beauty in cities like Aleppo, Hama, Palmyra and Latakia. It was a complete discovery, the cultural value of these places, the nature, the history and well of course the food. I wonder about the people I met on those journeys and what they have been through. Syrians are some of the most welcoming, warm and extremely generous people. Despite their situation, they are proud.

I often question what happened to the family who’s home we visited in Maa’loula the ancient town built on a rugged mountainside known as one of three remaining villages in the world where Western Neo-Aramaic is spoken. They invitingly opened their home to us and although they spoke a language I couldn’t understand, I enjoyed their warmth, the endless cups of black tea and sweets. During this never ending war I heard most of the population was wiped out.

What about the lady who sold those beautiful traditional wooden and pearl backgammon boards from her antique store in Old Town? I remember her optimism and excitement for a slowly developing country that was starting to open doors to the outside world. I wish I could visit her now, appreciate her stories, appreciate the souk, the smell, the colours and noise, the people, the artisanal craftsmanship that’s been passed on from generations.

Then of course there is my family.

Why had my uncles and relatives decided to stay with you? They had the option like many others to move to Lebanon. In my mind I can hear their voices and imagine them stubbornly explain their reasons. Stating quite matter of frankly that after all they have been through, wars and political corruption over the years if something was going to happen then they should be nowhere else but in their own homes. There’s no arguing with that.

I no longer recognize what I see and hear in the news. Countries recover from wars eventually, but the spirit is broken and the beauty is forever impacted. Others will argue and say it paves the way for the new. The concept so many artists discuss expressing the necessity of destruction being at the core for creation and change. I wish for Syrian people to keep having hope and that in time the future generations bring peace and change where we have failed. Only time will tell but I’m grateful I have the memories of a different time which will forever be a part of me. I am proud to be Syrian and I love you.

Photos Leila Antakly

Boys Night Out a photo taken near Ummayad Mosque by photographer Olof Hoverfalt