And what a two weeks it’s been. I have done so much – and so much that is new – so I apologise for the length of this post.
Arrival
In Damascus I met up with Muhammad and Yaq’ub whom I know from an Islamic study group I attend in London. As we drove across Damascus, from the Baramke to the Harasta bus stations, it was as if the intervening months in England were just melting away – the mad driving, the noise and the smells and the chaotic skyline of minarets, satellite dishes and ugly apartment blocks against the backdrop of Jebel Qasyion brought the memories and excitement flooding back. You’re not in Newmarket anymore, Dave.
However, the myriad delights of the big D would have to wait awhile because we were heading up to Muhammad’s hometown – Aleppo (Halab).
Aleppo
After an uneventful 4-hour coach-ride up to Aleppo we soon oriented ourselves in Syria’s second city and commercial centre.
The main tourist attractions I’ve mentioned in previous posts so I won’t repeat myself. It’s just worth adding that there is currently major refurbishment going on around the citadel. Despite our never actually seeing anyone doing any work it was clear that rapid progress was being made (we could only conclude that there was a huge team of builders who worked only in the wee small hours of the morning).
Aside from a bit of sightseeing and shopping in the souq most of our time was spent eating and drinking with a cast of interesting characters. My most adventurous meal involved eating both sheep's tongue and brains (a bit like pate since you ask). One day was spent at Muhammad’s family home – a large apartment in a well-heeled suburb of the city – where we were filled to bursting by a seemingly endless round of courses of food and drink. Thankfully we were able to work off some of the calories with a session of music and dancing in the evening.
Aside from Muhammad’s family and friends we also met some new friends of our own. At our hotel was a Belgian man who had cycled across Europe to the Middle East and hoped to make it down to Egypt and then across to Libya – all in a bid to alleviate acute back troubles brought about by a car accident. There was also a young British couple who were on a UK-South Africa motorbike trip. Unfortunately their bike had broken down so they were now whiling away the time in Aleppo waiting for a spare part to arrive from Blighty. We also hung out for a couple of evenings with a pair of very nice muslims from London – a Bengali and a convert from New Zealand – playing pool and smoking nargileh (water pipe) in a nice café close to the hotel.
One of the café owners was an Aleppan man who had lived in England for many years, and whose English wife and two kids are still in Watford (he can no longer stand being in England whilst she is not too keen on moving to Syria). His younger brother was a rapper who has recently turned away from the hip-hop lifestyle and returned to practicing Islam.
The muslim community here was very friendly. The Ottoman-era mosque which was close to our hotel was extremely welcoming. The muezzin and other regulars there were happy to have us there and were keen to teach us about Islam. They treated us to a moving rendition of a song apparently sung by the Companions of the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) during the hijrah (the flight from Mecca to Medina) and also showed us parts of the mosque which were now closed but which were historically used as a religious school. Our rapper friend took us to a Qur’an reading class in which Yaq’ub really shined
We also met a man who said he had been on Hajj (pilgrimage to Mecca) ten times and was respectfully greeted as Hajji by the locals. He took Yaq’ub and I under his wing for an afternoon, proudly showing off his mini-empire of textiles factories whilst filling us with tasty food. To cap it off he insisted on paying for our entire hotel bill. And if that’s not an example of Arab hospitality then I don’t know what is…
Back to Damascus
Damascus is a real contrast to Aleppo. Where Aleppo is clean and confident, Damascus is far more messy and fragmentary. Despite having already lived here for 5 months, in the last seven days this city has revealed a lot of new things to me.
For several days Yaq’ub and I stayed in a house of about 15 Singaporean students, affectionately known as the ‘Singapore Embassy’. These guys were very kind to us and really made us feel like part of their family.
The Embassy is very close to Abu Noor, an Islamic University, which is in a different part of the city to where I used to live. Although I did briefly visit here before, now I have spent several days here it is clear that up here is very different – almost like another city. I have really liked discovering this area – well away from the International Party Scene centred on the Old City. There are lots of muslim students here from all over the world and also many scholars. One sheikh gives regular lectures in English, so I shall be going to that, inshallah.
I was also invited to attend a Naqshbandi dhikr ceremony at the mosque where one of their sheikhs is buried. The Naqshbandi are a venerable order of Sufis (Islamic mystics), who have historically been particularly strong in Central Asia and parts of the Indian subcontinent but who have a presence in most parts of the world. They're a flamboyant bunch, wearing brightly coloured robes and turbans and, in some cases, eayeliner and perfume. Basically this ceremony involves group chanting of some of the Names of Allah and various passages of the Qur’an. Through dhikr it is hoped to come close to an experience of Allah and it is not unknown for attendees to enter trance-like states. I didn’t experience anything too otherworldly but I did enjoy myself and I got to meet some very nice people. I am absolutely fascinated by mysticism and I may well go to more of these types of gathering but I don’t think I’ll be joining the order just yet.
Another new thing for me was to hike up to makan arba’yn, a mosque on the hill overlooking the city, which has a couple of legends associated with it. It gets its name from the story that many centuries ago 40 religious scholars came up here to study in isolation, away from the distractions of the city. But there is a much more famous myth also linked to this place. It is reputedly the spot where Cain killed Abel, complete with the murder weapon (a big heavy rock). In a cave at the rear of the mosque is a fissure where the mountain opened its mouth in shock and where a “tear” is regularly shed in eternal sadness at this first act of homicide. Sitting outside the mosque we were treated to wonderful views of the urban sprawl of Damascus in the pinky-orange glow of sunset. This view alone made the exhausting hike up the mountain worthwhile.
My birthday had none of these legendary associations. I merely had a pleasant evening in a fairly posh café in the New City, watching Liverpool-Barcelona, drinking tea and fruit juice and smoking watermelon flavoured nargileh with some of the lads from Singapore.
Since Yaq’ub returned home to London a few days ago I have remade contact with some of my old buddies here. A lot has happened, a lot of new cafes and restaurants have opened, many of the old faces have gone to be replaced by new ones and yet strangely almost nothing has changed in the Old City. I am currently busy looking for a flat, preferably in a different part of the city to where I used to live. I also have a lot of leads for potential work and study which need to be followed up. Therefore I shall continue to be very busy in the coming days.
Ma'Salaama
