I wandered around the Aleppo souk looking for the Bimaristan Argan, a former asylum mentioned in my guide book. I found it hidden away in a corner and entered through a small door into a courtyard filled with the welcoming gurgle of a water fountain. Inside the building clustered around a domed courtyard were eleven oppressively small and claustrophobic cells each of which would have been shared by a number of inmates and appeared to be enough to drive even the sanest berserk. The outer courtyard was occasionally the venue for a performance of Dancing Dervishes, members of the mystical order of Sufi’s whose philosophy is about listening with the heart, doing what is beautiful in music, song and dance, and striving for spiritual perfection. The continuous twirling and rhythmical breathing induces a trance-like state in which the believer is united with the creator, it also induces a state of ecstasy due to the chemical changes in the brain as a result of the rapid breathing and the pure movement. Some forms of yoga and a therapeutic treatment known as holotropic breath -work induce similarly altered states but I doubt if the inmates of that particular establishment ever had the opportunity to experience such relief. Much to my disappointment no performances were scheduled during my short stay in Aleppo.
As I pondered the lot of the poor unfortunates I found myself speaking aloud to a fellow traveler who had been curious enough to seek out this hidden oasis of tranquility hidden within the heart of the old town. Clement, a German architect was travelling on a scholarship for a year to view the many Roman ruins dotted around the Middle East. Clement was travelling by car and invited me to join him on a visit to Madrassa Faradis which was founded in 1234 by the widow of the governor al-Zaher Ghazi and son of the famous Salah ad-Din who had united the Arabs and turned the tide against the Crusaders. The madrassa or Khoranic school is considered to be Aleppo’s finest example of Islamic architecture and its clean simple line and columned courtyard still induced a feeling of reverence and calm.
On we drove to the ruined basilica of St. Simeon Stylites which lies in the countryside north of Aleppo. This is one of the many relics of the Byzantine Middle East to be found between Aleppo and Antioch (Antakya in modern day Turkey). On our way we made a brief detour to visit the ruins of a small church in a flat green field area that looked like the middle of nowhere. As we admired the Corinthian capitals with their windblown acanthus and scrolls we were approached and quietly scrutinized by three Bedouin children two sisters and a brother who lived in a nearby tent. I spoke with the older of the girls who continued all the while to gaze steadily at me. In response to my questions she told me that she was twelve and that she went to school in the mornings, it being the case in many of the countries I visited in the region that there are two intakes of classes in the day where the educational resources are not sufficient to meet demands. Both girls were dressed in colorful home knitted woolen jumpers and the younger girl and her brother both had webbed fingers. They asked for pens as Arabic children often do and I was happily able to oblige. They graciously handed me a small posy of wild flowers in return. When I asked if I could take a photograph they simply continued to hold my gaze and I realized they did not want to offend me by refusing so I put my camera away respecting the fact that for some people a stranger taking their photograph is synonymous with taking away their spirit. At the time of my visit in 2000 the Bedouin in Syria numbered one hundred thousand. Although no longer the desert wanderers they once were they retained many of the traditional values of honor and hospitality to strangers which were part of the code that enabled them to survive in desert conditions. These particular children demonstrated a self-possession and nobility that was remarkable in such youth. All the while we spoke the children’s father tended his flock of sheep in the distance.
Not far from this area lay the basilica dedicated to the son of a shepherd who was born in 392 CE. At a young age he entered the monastic life and finding that it didn’t meet his high aesthetic standards he retired, initially to a cave under a self- imposed regime of austerity. Finding his peace disturbed by revering intruders he erected a pillar three meters high on which he stood so that people could not touch him. It is said that the pillar grew along with his intolerance and eventually rose to eighteen meters with a railing around the top which prevented him from falling as he slept. He refused to let women into his sight even scorning the gaze of his own mother. He died in 459 following a thirty-eight year stint on the pillar having started a fashion in this particular brand of religious fervor or fanaticism. His basilica is said to have been the most splendorous in Byzantium prior to the construction of Hagia Sophia.
In the year 2001 when I visited, Syria had a population of seventeen million, six million of whom lived in Damascus with three million residing in Aleppo. It’s late president Hafez al-Assad a member of the Alawite minority in a predominantly Sunni population rose to power in 1971. In 1980 economic difficulties resulted from Syria’s increasingly military involvement in Lebanon since the eruption of civil war in 1976 and the Israeli invasion in that country in 1982. A growing housing crisis resulted from the arrival of refugees from that conflict and coupled with a fall in oil prices and the general oppressiveness of the regime, fueled discontent within Syria with the main opposition coming from the militant Muslim Brotherhood. Assad’s son and successor Bashar who specialized as an Ophthalmologist in London had recently come to power. He thanked a European official who expressed the belief that Syria was “half way there” with regards to economic and political reform but Assad stated that in his opinion Syria had only just begun to make an impact in these areas. Syrian companies were at that time being encouraged to improve standards for exports and tourism. Later conflict destroyed those green shoots and how devastating those lost opportunities have been for Syria and its people.
On my journey back through Damascus I ventured down for a final foray into the bustling souk and discovered the Saturday evening shoppers lining the streets behind a military cordon waiting for Pope John Paul II to arrive. I had been vaguely aware that he was visiting Damascus but it never occurred to me that I would be around for this most historic visit to the Umayyad Mosque. A few minutes later I saw his frail smiling figure through the bulletproof glass of the pope-mobile. A man of foresight he was eager to bring about an alliance between Christians, Jews and Muslims and was the first pontiff to visit a mosque. In my opinion it is a great pity that western education systems does not pay enough attention when it comes to educating its youth about the Arab world and I constantly face expressions of surprise when I mention my own interest, a common reaction being but “do they not treat their women badly”. My usual response is to point out that if an Arabic documentary maker was to come to Ireland and focus exclusively on our women’s refuges and on the institutional abuse of children and portray that as our culture, how would we like it. No one could deny that bad things happen in the Arab world but for the most part people have the same concerns as us, to lead a decent life and look after the wellbeing of their families as best they can. I hope that when things settle down and all of the countries impacted by the so called Arab Spring return to some equilibrium that more and more young people will have the experience of visiting these fascinating countries which I guarantee will greatly enrich their lives.
